Category Archives: life or something like it

Nesting 102, or, What I Wish I’d Known Last Time ‘Round This Dance Floor

Hallo hallo! Remember how I had these grand weekend plans last time we cyber-stalked each other? No? That’s okay. I didn’t get to do any of them because I got slammed with the Mother of all Rhinoviruses and am just now recovering. Much time was spent lying on the couch hacking up rubber cement and bemoaning the forbiddenness of ibuprofen. Thank heaven Chip was his usual sweet, mellow self – even if he did laugh and call me an elephant every time I blew my nose. He also started referring to my 44 oz vanilla Diet Dr. Peppers as “mama’s juice”. Correct, little man. Correct.

Despite the snot circus, we’ve had some exciting pre-baby developments around here. Well, they are exciting for me because I don’t really have a life, but what can you do?

CK and I finally decided on a *real* name for Moose – thus avoiding repeating the Baby Naming Crisis of 2011. If by “decided” I mean “Sav made an executive decision because CK was noncommittal”.
Prenatal appointments are down to twice a month.
Strangers have apparently stopped speculating whether I am knocked up or just really tubby because all of sudden they are up in my face with congratulations and the standard round of questions. It’s cute; I don’t mind. CK thinks it’s hilarious that it’s taken this long because according to him, it’s been super obvious since like, two seconds after I conceived. Not sure how I feel about that, exactly.
Preregistered for the hospital.
Made some leeway clearing out my freezer and pantry in anticipation of casserole-bearing Relief Society Sisters. In case you were wondering, free dinners are a major perk of being a Mormon.
Finished a few more nursery decor projects, because apparently I decorate things now. I’m most excited/bewildered by the success of Moose’s baby quilt. I share this picture not to humblebrag, but to assure you that with enough bullheaded obstinance and sugar, ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE. (Seriously, kids. Remember how badly I struggled last time? Follow your dreams.) I owe a tremendous debt of gratitude to About.com and Ashley at Make It and Love It.

Most of my domestic pursuits are far more boring than this – like a closet full of clean laundry or a scrubbed shower. I still appreciate the surge of energy. As I’ve said before, this whole ‘nesting’ impulse is pretty handy. But I mean it’s only fair that a pregnant woman be granted a measure of hyper-productivity while her offspring crams its way more tightly between her organs, ya naw?

Other things!

Hartley came to visit me for an entire afternoon, and it was amazing. GAH. I love her. Last time CK and I saw her, she was a supah-fresh RM and we were literally packing the moving van for Idaho, so we only got to chat for like five seconds. She’s as gorgeous and tall and Hartley-y as ever. Pretty sure she has some pictures of our time together, so if you’re reading this, H, send ‘em my way, por favor!

I have some issues with the Your Pregnancy Today iPhone apps I use. First and foremost is the fact that the “experts” writing the “advice” for them keep recommending asinine ways of “exploring my options”, like thinking a water birth is a good idea. Public Service Announcement: Under no circumstances is it A) natural or B) smart to have your baby’s first exposure to a non-womb environment be nasty bloody poop water. I mean, eww. Also, no. You do not need to buy the entire list of recommended baby items from Amazon.com or read BabyWise. BabyWise is the worst.

Ooh, in fact, here instead is some better advice for you upcoming mommies, courtesy of Yours Truly, free of charge and you are welcome. What I would give to go back in time and give these tips to myself – because I was truly a hawt. freaking. mess. Ready go!

Your baby will not die if he/she has to cry for 15 seconds while you brush your teeth. (Well, hopefully you can take more than 15 seconds, but you get the point.) You may have crippling postpartum anxiety like I did, and it may try to convince you that your newborn’s bellowing signals the End of Days, but trust me. The noisy little pooper will in fact survive, and your significant other will thank you for using basic hygiene. So will everyone in a two-mile radius.
Learn to swaddle. Even if your little one screams and pretends to hate it at first. When my sweet MIL Milly finally did this correctly for me, Chip (and I!) slept like a little baby angel conked out on Benadryl. Ahhhh.
Layer several crib sheets at once. That way, if (read: WHEN) your precious pumpkin excretes unspeakable messes all over himself in the middle of the night, you can pull the top sheet off without having to worry about replacing it at an hour when you’ve got the mental wherewithal of a drunken David Hasselhoff. This time around I’m also trying these disposable changing pads … will return and report.
Pretty much everything in this post is accurate. Well, except I like my Bumbo.
If the nursing staff offers to watch your baby overnight at the hospital, let them. For heaven’s sake, woman. Get some sleep while you still can!
Dry shampoo. Go out and buy some, like, yesterday. Also, Udder Cream is really good for that pesky pre- and post-delivery belly itchiness. You probably already know about Lansinoh for the lady bits, so I won’t say anything further on that, other than yes. A hundred times yes.
Other pampering products I cannot live without: this, this, and this. Take the time; feel 800000x better.
A Costco membership will quickly pay for itself in diaper and wipes savings, especially if you hold out for the $6-off coupons that come every few months. Plus, those Kirkland wipes are the BEST. Just do it. Become a Costcoer (or Sam’s Clubber). Jooooooiiiiin ussssss.
For the endowed LDS pregs out there: learn from my mistakes and skip the maternity garments altogether, especially if you live anywhere warmer than Antarctica. Not only is the cotton/poly as hot as Hades’ armpits, but the sleeves are usually so long that they hang out of your clothing and look ridiculous. The superhigh bottoms may be comfortable at first, but by the last trimester the elastic WILL cut right into the middle of your waist and cause weird bulges. Bonus: the DriSilque maternity bottoms will make those cute over-the-belly capris you bought slip down past your crack the first time you bend over. Instead, buy Carinessa II everything a size or two larger in Tall. Tuck the waistband under your royal bulkiness and be happy.
Dove Sensitive Skin deodorant works great for inevitable swoob. Yup, just slather it right under there. It’s gentle enough that it (probably) won’t irritate your skin, and it sure makes a difference.
On that note, if you’re anything like me, you’ll need to make sure that all your nursing clothing and covers are made of light, forgiving material. BFing makes you sweat like a pig – maybe the calorie burnage? – especially if you suck at doing it in public like I did. For some reason I thought I could handle 5 layers at once (garments, bra, cami, top shirt, nursing cover – most of them a thick cotton/spandex or poly blend) and I was on the verge of heat stroke ALL the time. Not pleasant. If you must layer (and I must), think airy and stretchy, a la those $3 tanks from Forever 21. Also, benzodiazepine. (I kid.) (Kinda.)
Keep a dollar store shower curtain liner under your sheets for the last month of pregnancy. Because if you pop, the world is not enough.
For the advent of solids: Wipe-able silicone bibs. They will save you soooooooo much laundry. I use and love these.
Finally, RELAX. Babies are practically made of rubber. They can recover from just about anything; yes, even you. Chances are if you are even the teeniest bit less moronic than this guy, your lil’ tyke will be just fine.

If I think of more, I’ll add it in a later post. Fellow parents are also welcome to sound off in the comments.

And now for your usual onslaught of offspring shenanigans. It should be noted that at time of writing, this .gif and Oreo cookies were Chip’s favorite things in the universe.

“Oh help! STUCK!”

“Ooops! Mess!”

So I put him in this hat … because I can.

He is so good in the car. He seriously just sits there like this and looks at his picture books like he’s actually reading.

Heh heh heh

Meet Button the bunny. He's become a permanent feature on Chip's arm these past few weeks. I pity the fool who tries to leave him behind in the crib after nap time.

Meet Button the bunny. Chip named him himself. He’s become a permanent feature on Chip’s arm these past few weeks. I pity the fool who tries to leave him behind in the crib after nap time.

Okay lovers, it’s been real but now it’s time for me to go eat cookies and catch up on Castle. TTFN.

Currently listening to: Ho Hey by The Lumineers

I’ll Wear Your Granddad’s Clothes. I Look Incredible.

Snore

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Quick update about the sleep study.

The results weren’t straightforward enough to completely rule in or rule out narcolepsy (obnoxious, right?); however, they did show evidence of sleep apnea and PLMD. Now I get to go in for another study on Sunday night – this time for CPAP titration. Woo hoo. Can you feel my excitement from here?

Thankfully I won’t need to be off my psychotropics this time! Which is good, because that sucked worse than anything else. Doc wants me to try the CPAP and reevaluate in month, at which time we’ll decide whether another set of sleep studies are necessary to retest for narcolepsy.

Impressions: The quality of sleep I got at the clinic wasn’t anything like what I expected. I was surprised to be able to sleep as deeply without my meds as I did. I don’t know if that has anything to do with pregnancy or not, but it was interesting. I was also surprised to hear that I stopped breathing so often during the night, even without Xyrem (which has always exacerbated my gasping/snoring tenfold – just ask Fraulein and CK, the poor dears). I’m embarrassed that I’m going to be on a CPAP before I turn 25 – in my mind, CPAP users have always been older, obese folks. However, I’ve made peace with the fact that if there is something I can do to improve my health and the health of this lil’ baby I’m growing, I want to do it.

Will I still need a CPAP after baby? Or if bust my @ss and get back down to my pre-puberty weight, which the Mayo Clinic tells me is ideal for a person my height? Or if I chop out my tonsils and adenoids? Ugh. Who knows.

When we met to discuss the results, I told my doctor that the sleep I got in the days leading up to and during the studies weren’t anything like what my sleep was 6 years ago at my first consultation. He agreed that this is another reason why we may need to retest in a month – perhaps 4 days off Xyrem wasn’t enough. I was glad that he didn’t immediately dismiss my original diagnosis, which I honestly feared he would. He wasn’t there 6 years ago. He didn’t see me. I just hope it doesn’t take something that extreme to get the treatment I need, if in fact it is needed.

Of course, there is the possibility that I was misdiagnosed all those years ago. This option, I keep reminding myself, is not as scary as I may think. If it was apnea and tarantella legs all along, I won’t need to keep shelling out for expensive medication every month for the rest of my life. That’s a good thing. But maybe it wasn’t, and maybe I will. Either way, narcolepsy is a condition, not a part of my identity, and if I need to let it go, it’s not a big deal. Right?

I just hope this works…

To be honest, anxiety about my health has haunted me from a very young age. Thanks to a certain doctor-doubting, hypochondriac influence, I’ve had “YOU ARE DOOMED TO BE SICK FOREVER AND NO ONE WILL HELP YOU” drilled into my head for as long as I can remember. Thus, it’s very easy for me to see the tiniest little symptom and blow it up into something huge, or conversely, to feel threatened when someone wants to take my fancy drugs away.

Changes like this just bring all those old, “something is not right! something is quite wrong!” feelings to the surface. If I have apena, what else is wrong with me? The internet makes it even easier to speculate. It’s so stupid. I need to stop.

(Interestingly, I’ve never felt even the slightest bit anxious about anything going wrong with my pregnancies, which have arguably been the biggest medical events in my life. I can’t explain that.)

Anyway, this went from being a quick update to a rather dull narrative of my mental state. My apologies. Chip has awoken from his nap, and we have homemade Wheat Thins to eat. Yum.

Currently listening to: Va Va Voom by Nicki Minaj

We Made It!

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Look guys! It’s Sunday! Nobody’s crying and nobody’s dead! It’s a modern day miracle.

I’m now settled comfortably in my little room at the sleep clinic, as least as comfortably as one can be with several zillion wires attached to their person.

We strive to provide you with unfiltered hawtness here at The Capital L.

Fraulein says I’m supposed to update y’all about my talk in church. It was fine. I explored the topic of Christlike charity using this speech from last October as a reference. I wrote the bulk of it early in the week, so I had only minor tweaking to do yesterday and this morning. Good thing, too; I’ve reached the stage in my drug withdrawal where I spend all day oscillating between uncontrollable trembling (but otherwise feeling okay) and uncontrollable sobbing. Neither are conducive to great writing. Thank All Deities Everywhere that the most obvious manifestation of my struggle today was that I talked much quicker than I would have liked. I couldn’t help it. My teeth were chattering, but not from nerves. (Such an odd sensation. Gah. So happy that this nonsense will be over in less than 24 hours.) CK did a wonderful job giving his talk, which he was so unnecessarily worried about. That man is brilliant at everything he puts his mind to.

I also had my first day on the job teaching the eleven-year-old girls. I’ll be teaching them every Sunday and once a month in my home (for Activity Days). It was actually really, really fun. The former teacher stuck around to show me the ropes today, but next week I’m on my own. I think it’s gonna be great. MUCH better than that time CK and I were thrust unawares into our first family ward’s nursery, completely abandoned, left to fend for ourselves approximately two seconds after we got married. (And then that was in the top three reasons why we moved to OP2. Remember that? Ha.)

Well, the nice lady has come and hooked up my O2 and pulse oximeter, so I guess it’s time for lights out. See ya on the flip side.

Currently listening to: You’re Gonna Miss Me (Cup Song) by Anna Kendrick

December and January: Celebrate ALL the Things!

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By the numbers, now.

15 — Number of times per day I kissed sweet Chloe on the forehead (before the sniffles set in, that is)

1 — Year of remembering T-Bo

80 — Mega Blocks opened at our early pre-Poky Christmas

4 — Seconds it took Rocket to smear birthday cake all over his cute face

97 — Attempts to get a decent Christmas jammies picture

5 — Baths in Grandma’s tub

6 — Tissues I went through watching Les Misérables in the theater with Milly and Pal. (Because the faucets come on EVERY TIME, no matter the version. Always has, always will, because I was a hardcore Hugo/Schönberg fan long before it was cool. And yes, I’m quite smug about the fact that I was raised on Colm Wilkinson’s voice, thanks. Hipster Sav OUT)

23 — How many times I’ve since listened to every Les Mis soundtrack I own

Screen shot 2013-01-03 at 9.04.55 PM

500 — Number of times Chip went tearing around the church foyer on Sunday

5 — New Year’s resolutions set

3 — Years of wacky, wonderful marriage to my Chocolate King

168 — Baby’s heartbeats per minute today! Yay.

I’m almost out of the first trimester, which *hopefully* means I’ll be returning to blogging semi-normalcy soon. ‘Course, bigger fetus means fewer brain cells for mama, so don’t hold your breath.

Currently listening to: Some Nights by fun.

Grateful

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Normally I don’t give a moment’s thought to those copy-and-paste statuses on Facebook, but my heart is still tender from the events of last week in Connecticut, not to mention awash in some pretty fancy pregnancy hormones. So bear with me.

My friend just posted this:

The things you take for granted, someone else is praying for.

Folks, as I sit here in my sturdy, warm house, having recently eaten a full meal, with a loving husband at a great job despite a shaky economy and our healthy, beautiful son napping soundly in his crib, with both medical care and modern technology that much of the world could only dream of available at the push of a button, I think of how utterly minuscule my problems are compared to many, and I feel pretty darn humbled.

How can I spend so much time fussing about Christmas presents, when instead I should be falling on my knees in gratitude that I can afford to buy my boys a toy or two?

How can I complain about my nausea, when I have several friends struggling with infertility who would give ANYTHING to feel that sensation?

How can I roll my eyes at my toddler pitching a tantrum on the floor, when just the fact that he’s here is the most indescribable blessing?

I cannot even begin to fathom the pain and heartbreak of losing a child in such a horrifying, public way as did the parents in Newtown. The mere thought of such a possibility stops my heart and turns me completely feral. Instead, go read what Tori wrote. She says it better.

Last week I clutched Chip to my chest and cried over his sweet head until his hair was soaked, and days later my mind is still reeling. Tomorrow also marks the anniversary of my brother’s death. The date’s been looming like a black mountain on my calendar.

I don’t know why some parents lose their children, when others, like me, have them to hold onto for another day. I don’t think there is a reason sometimes – just the swerving, unending consequence of really bad choices. Or occasionally, just plain, stupid, spontaneous randomness. Sometimes God interferes. Other times, I believe, He weeps silently at the agency of His foolish children, which He promised never to deny them.

I do know that He always invites us to seek comfort in His words and Spirit, and lately I’ve been cashing in on that invitation with feverish frequency. It’s an ongoing process, this feeling better thing. I’m getting there.

One of my favorite quotes is the prayer attributed to Reinhold Niebuhr:

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
The courage to change the things I can,
And the wisdom to know the difference.

I’m quite effective in a direct crisis. It’s my personality to seek out the things I can DO when the going gets rough. Helplessness is not an emotion I deal with gracefully, which is why times like the Sandy Hook massacre are especially trying for me. However, I’m trying to focus on the sentiment behind Niebuhr’s prayer, and have faith that through God’s grace and my own sincere efforts, good things can and will continue to happen for my little family. We can circle each other in our arms until we’re safe. We can climb that black mountain.

My greatest wish this holiday season is that I can paint my soul with gratitude for the abundance of goodness in my life. I hope that I can fan the small spark of hope within me to a flame. I hope that I can then share that warmth and light with others, if only just my husband and children. And I want to have courage. I wish the same for all of you.

lls

Have a beautiful Christmas! We’re going to be okay.

Currently listening to: Three Kings by Michael McLean

Stuck in the Middle With You

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If you’re anything like me, you’re sick to the bone of all this pre- and post-election nastiness. People certainly reveal a lot about themselves when they feel threatened, don’t they? Yikes. I know emotions have been extra high this time, and that emotions make everyone stupid, but far too many are forgetting that basic, fundamental rule: KICPWWIMNNABWIWTWRA. (Keep it civil, person with whom I may not necessarily agree, but whom I will treat with respect anyway.)

Maybe that’s just easy for me to say. I’ve never aligned with one party or another. Life’s good in the purple, people.

On a similar and possibly contradictory note: look who’s BAAAAACK!

I laughed right out loud when I saw this on my ballot. Oh, P-Dawg. (Can I call you P-Dawg?) I missed you, mate.

Also, last week I almost ran over a turkey with my car. I. Love. Idaho.

Now for a bit of catch-up: Would you believe that only TWO measly Trick-or-Treaters came to our door? They left before I could finish changing into my costume and see them, too. I was super disappointed. Only for a minute, though, until I remembered that I dropped coin on the good candy (none of this Dum Dums and Bottlecaps nonsense), and I subsequently won’t have to buy chocolate until Easter 2014.

Chip had his 15 month appointment and is still measuring very tall. I have this little daydream that he’ll tower over me when he’s grown, just like all my baby brothers do. He’s walking about 65% of the time, which is fun and a bit nerve wracking. He achieved minor internet fame when I linked to my last post on Pinterest, much to my amusement and CK’s chagrin. Newly-acquired skills include pointing at everything and asking, “What’s this?” (“Us iss?”), building his block train instead of just pulling it apart, *kind of* eating with a spoon, and identifying his cars, drink-of-water, and Daddy’s nose.

My corner of the world is beautiful right now. If this were Utah, we’d have gotten snow weeks ago. Instead, we’re enjoying crisp but pleasant temperatures and a sky blissfully free of perpetual Great Basin smog. I tell ya — I do miss those big rugged mountains, though! I wish you all were here to enjoy a pumpkin spice cider and take a stroll down the Greenbelt with me. A little comfortable nostalgia sounds nice, doncha think?

Currently listening to: Gravity by Cindy Morgan

Recent Life in Photos, Part 2

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I spend too much time on Instagram and too little time writing. Here’s me trying to repent a little.

Tot Time at the library is crazy and fun. The gal who runs it always wears these sky high stilettos — it’s a wonder to me that she’s never skewered a child. She’s cute though; as peppy and enthusiastic as you would expect from someone whose job it is to keep toddlers from stealing toys and poking each other in the eyes. Plus, she finally got Chip to bust some dance moves. Mama approves.

We bought a second car forever ago. (She doesn’t have a name yet — I suggested Sexy.) I am so glad to no longer being trapped in the house all day. Here she is in all her sleek, blue, fuel efficient glory.

Uncle Jargo came to visit! We went to the maize maze. (Ha.) Look at his face — we’re so related. I’m happy that his new position at work will bring him up here several times a year.

This next one is from the time we tried to drive across the entire state without refueling. See the range — “1 miles” until an empty tank? Yep, we hovered there for a good fives miles or so. Adventure of the most acute kind, I tell you.

There he goes … there he goes again … racin’ through my brain …

I’m the mean mom who thinks it’s hilarious to take pictures of my baby when he’s simultaneously suffering a cold and incoming molars.

The Boise LDS Temple was recently renovated, and right now it’s hosting a public open house until its rededication next month. We went through on Saturday. I loved it. Chip was gaga over the beautiful chandeliers. We weren’t allowed to photograph the interior, but those curious can see some professional shots here.

Now I need to go upload some video of Chip walking. He’s awfully cute and top heavy. Makes for some funny moments. But I think this post is sufficiently long, don’t you?

Have a great week!

Currently listening to: Made Up Love Song No. 43 by Guillemots

BRB

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This post is not so much a stream of consciousness as it is a drainage ditch. It’s a thing. Respect the thing.

Is anyone else currently experiencing inappropriately strong emotional reactions to their Netflix foster child TV show of choice? Our latest is Grey’s Anatomy. We’re seven seasons in. I’ve never cried so much in my damn life. Could be the fact that every other episode reminds me of how my dead brother’s organs were parceled out to people I will never meet, or how I had a miscarriage before I ever knew I could love a child more than oxygen, or how my hair will never be as awesome as Cristina Yang’s. I gave that show so much crap over the years, and now I literally have anxiety over the characters’ life choices. I love some of them so much it hurts. Anyway, I’m a mess. Anyone else? Just me?

I’m pretty sure the neighbor’s cat has a crush on Chip. He keeps leaving dead mice where Chip will find them on the patio.

Today’s moment of serenity was brought to me by the bulk food section of Winco. You may not know this, but the bulk food section of Winco is one of the happiest places on earth. Especially for a cheap and excitement-starved domestic demigoddess. Exempli gratia: My husband is the weirdo who drinks hot cocoa and tea when it’s 100 degrees outside. ‘Guzzles’ is a more appropriate word. (He’s just bitter that everyone at his company gets free coffee except him.) Suffice it to say he goes through cocoa quickly. Well, short story long, today I ended up restocking our shelves and saving a zillion dollars with dignity intact. It put a smile on my face, just like it does every few weeks when I escape ~~Tartarus~~ Walmart and find Grocery Disneyland. Let’s not even talk about the forty-three kinds of rice they sell. Ah, Winco. If they ever start taking credit I will probably live there.

I’m jealous of all you northern Utahns who are already seeing autumn! All those pretty leaves and cooler temps – gah. I ache for them. The only weather change our meteorologists can speak of is the air quality level drop from “Moderate” to “Dangerous for Some”. Ew. Fires are miserable. I saw on the news today that a teenaged volunteer firefighter was charged with arson –> destroying a house and 250+ acres. Me and my morals and sinuses think he’s a douche. Bring on the wind and rain, says I! Everything needs cleansing.

I’ve been trying to slim down and eat healthier, so naturally I used the zucchini Milly gave me to make a chocolate cake so sinful even CK loved it. No one does self-sabotage as well as I do, friends.

Here is a picture of Chip’s cheeks in case you skipped over all that block text out of boredom (not blaming you). As you can see, they are reaching critical mass:

Currently listening to: Just a Dream by Nelly

Domo Arigato

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You’re all a bunch of lovely geniuses.

Thank you for your encouragement, compliments, links, and virtual fist-bumps of solidarity on my recent posts. They meant the world.

Per your excellent advice, I jumped online and looked up our library’s autumn activity schedule. Now that the school district’s summer reading initiatives have ended, 6-18 monther reading time is back! YES! That will make my Mondays more interesting. I got on Facebook and found that one of the ladies in my neighborhood hosts a Movie Club every month. I joined that too; should be fun.

I also made a goal to get ready for the day before Chip gets up, rather than hiding out at home until he goes down for a nap. That right there freed up half my morning.

While I’m mentioning goals and life overhauls and such, I need to ask if any of you lovelies use the MyFitnessPal app. Well, do you? It’s wonderful. And evil. Mostly wonderful. I’ve been keeping track of every calorie that passes my lips for over a week, as well as logging my workouts, and it’s been illuminating to say the least. I had no idea I was doing so much mindless munching until it wasn’t mindless anymore. This thing calculates your current and goal weights against your daily activity level and gives you a magic number of calories to hit. You can input custom recipes and even scan barcodes to give you the most accurate count. Super easy.

Yeah, limiting your intake can suck. I’ve had moments where I jonsed for a doughnut so bad I thought I would die (I don’t even LIKE doughnuts that much), but each day gets easier. I feel like I’m accountable to that stupid little app, and it keeps me in check. You should give it a go if you’re trying to trim up. And you can add me! We can get hawt together! Woot woot.

In final news, it turns out Chip did NOT have an ear infection (praise the stars!) so we celebrated by finally hanging some things on our sad, bare wall. What do you think?

Have a happy hump day!

Currently listening to: I Can Only Imagine by David Guetta