Flashback Friday

Although I was unable to retrieve the baptismal picture with me and Tamara, my sis did dredge up this series of pictures. The two pictures on the left show Tamara, me, and Tamara's sister Angela. The two pictures on the right include us and others. (I'm on the far right in both right-side pictures.) These pictures were definitely taken before my ugly stage kicked in. (Click to get a better look at how cute we were.)

Another Adjustment

During my engagement to Chuck, I was mostly excited at the thought of getting married. But part of me was scared to death because I was afraid of becoming a "Mrs." I thought that becoming a Mrs. would mean losing all that was cool about being a Miss. And I was one cool Miss. I loved everything about my life and who I was at that point. I answered to no one. I feared that getting married would change that. However, after being married for a few months, I realized that being married wasn't as bad as I feared. In fact, three and a half years into it, surprise...I actually like it!

But now going through the same thing again. Not only am I a "Mrs.," but now I'm a MOM. I'm afraid that this means that I'm destined for appliqued sweatshirts. Sigh. I'm just not sure that I really want this title. Don't get me wrong, I simply adore Rhett. I do. But this Mom business...that's another story.

I feel like I'm not interesting any more. It used to be that I felt like I was a pretty cool person to know. On our nightly walks with Bruno, it was easy to have good, lively conversations with Chuck about my commute, work, something I read in the Post. But now? I'm one of those women who only talks about her baby. I swore I would never become one of these women.

Also, I miss adult interaction. When my sister called the other day, we talked for 73 minutes. And when Rach came to visit me this past weekend, I honestly thought I was going to give myself a sore throat because I talked so much. It was soooo nice to have someone around that didn't require a voice that's three octaves higher than my normal one. I miss other adults so much that I actually want to ride the Metro again. I know. SHOCKER.

The Family: A Proclamation to the World says that, "Mothers are primarily responsible for the nurture of their children." But what if I don't want to be? I guess I always figured that I'd love being a Mom, but really, why should that be the way of it? Just because it's a commandment, doesn't mean I'll love heeding it (as evidenced by so many other commandments). But how to handle it then? Just suck it up and hope you grow it love it, like I have grown to love being a wife? The worst part about it is feeling like something is wrong with me because I don't love being a Mom. The second worst part is fearing that I never will.

Thankfully, I know two people who still like me...

Tagged by Tamara

My "Virginian Mormon Friend" (yes, I had only one) has tagged me. She is my oldest friend and yet I know little about her. But due to the wonders of the internet and consequently blogging, we're learning more about each other every day. She lives this super cool life in NYC and seems to have parties all the time. I wish I lived closer!

(I was going to scan and then post a picture of the two of us at my baptism, but I don't have it. Maybe I'll have my mom send it to me [hint, hint Mom].)

Anyway, here goes...

Rules:

1. Link to your tagger and post these rules on your blog.
2. Share 7 facts about yourself on your blog, some random, some weird.
3. Tag 7 people at the end of your post by leaving their names as well as links to their blogs.
4. Let them know they are tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.

So here are my 7 facts:

1. I have never mowed a lawn, nor do I intend to.
2. I would love to be a performer on Broadway, preferably as Eponine in Les Mis.
3. Sometimes my only motivation to go to the gym is so that I can watch cable television (e.g., Project Runway).
4. I am definitely a math snob. If you can't calculate 10% of something in your head, we might not be able to be friends.
5. I might use some of the money we have saved for a house to get laser eye surgery done. I think I would love it. I'd seriously consider using TLC Laser Eye Center simply because it's what Tiger Woods used and endorses.
6. I watch far more television than I'll ever admit to.
7. I'm not afraid to tell people my weight (138 pounds). (Remember people, I had a baby three weeks ago.)
And just because...8. I think Blogger spellcheck is DUMN. Hello...they don't have "internet" in their database? Wow. (And "dumn" is a word I made up. It's an amalgamation of "dumb" and, well, you know. It's for the extra special dumbness. It's pronounced dum-na.)

I know I'm supposed to tag seven others, but I'll refrain. However, if you'd like to do this, go ahead and then let me know. I'd love to read yours!

About a Girl

(The first in a series about the adjustments this first-time mom is having to make to her life. Enjoy.)

In the movie About a Boy, Hugh Grant's character, Will, divides his time into "units," where each unit is equal to 30 minutes. Exercising (i.e., playing pool) = 1 unit. Having his hair carefully discheveled = 2 units. My life has similarly been divided into units, albeit ones that don't include having my hair carefully discheveled.

My units are longer: 3 hours. But each one is pretty much the same. They all start with feeding Rhett. He's breastfed for about 30 minutes and then we supplement with formula; this takes another 15-30 minutes. After this, Rhett has some "awake time." Given his age (three weeks today), I'm not sure how to best fill this time (any thoughts?), but it's usually about 45 minutes. The remaining time, while Rhett naps (about 60-90 minutes), in this unit is spent either sleeping, reading the paper, showering, completing chores, internetting, walking, or eating. Once the unit is done, it's repeated...again and again and again.

This has been really hard for me. I am a girl who loves to cross things off lists. But my lists used to be more ambitious: finish that hat (or any random project), cook something new, go grocery shopping, etc. But now I have to be content knowing I found time to vacuum my small apartment.

I guess it all comes down to "lowering my expectations." Yes, I said lowering. This is a great lesson that I'm trying to learn from my sister. On one camping trip with her cute family, my sis, an avid camper and hiker, had visions of hiking much and doing fun things. However, her little boys had different plans. She then decided that she had to lower her expectations or else she was going to be the one disappointed. That she was able to pack up a family's worth of stuff and make it to a campground should be the goal, not completing that four-hour hike.

So I'm trying to incorporate this into my new life. I should feel accomplished when I not only found time to shower, but shaved the legs as well! Speaking of, I better go...

(I couldn't resist...)

My Major Award

Other than a few walks with Rhett and the dog, the first time I left the house was last Thursday night. That's 13 days inside my apartment...my very small apartment. So the place I chose to go first? Kmart. Even though I usually eschew Kmart, it was close and easy. Besides, they had these v-neck tees on sale for $5. I left the babe with Chuck and off I went.

As I headed for the Women's department an announcement was being made on the loud speakers. It was telling everyone to make their way to the Women's department so that they could enter the drawing for a fabulous (!) prize. Seeing as I was already headed in that direction, I slyly looked for where this drawing was going to take place. Finding the platform was easy, but I still wasn't sure what the drawing was for. However, something inside me told me I was going to win.

Turns out that it was basically QVC-in-person. A girl was trying to sell me (and about 15 others) a set of gold necklaces and bracelets that retail for over $129 (!) for ONLY $29.99 (!). They were hideous. Sorry lady, but they were. At the end of her spiel, we were told that due to the great price, only four sets were available at this unbelievable price. The way to sell them fairly? The first four people who raise their hands...and GO. But no one raised their hands. No worries, we could think about it and come find her later. Then on to the drawing.

When I got home, I joked with Chuck that the only times I have really felt promptings from the Holy Ghost were just before I was about to win something. While this is sadly partially true, this time was no different. I just knew I was going to win. And win I did! Behold my major award! I'm sure I'll never wear it again.

My Heart Grew Three Sizes that Day

On March 21st my heart grew exponentially in its capacity to love. Yes, part of that growth was for little Rhett. But most of it? For Chuck. No one told me that this would happen.

I think most people wanted to tell me that I was crazy for not having anyone come help me with the new baby. My mom and dad aren't coming out until the first week of May, and my sis was unable to be here. A friend offered to come, but I told her to wait. But this is just how I wanted it: Chuck and me getting used to the new baby together. (Besides, I didn't want anyone privy to my anticipated post-birth craziness.)

And I don't regret that decision one bit. We are lucky that Chuck's mom is a NICU nurse, so any health questions are run by her (as well as by the very knowledgeable sisters and sisters-in-law). We are lucky that ward members helped out with food. We are lucky that the first day of Chuck's spring break was the day Rhett was born, giving Chuck until this past Monday before he had to go back to work. And we're lucky that Chuck has enough sick leave to be able to ease back into going to work.

But I am soooo lucky that I have Chuck to do this with. I am lucky that he knows me so well to know how to handle me. He knows what is important to me (getting the paper read) and what isn't (showering). He knows how to handle my cry-dreams (we left the baby in a crib in a hotel room only to return to a charred baby). He knows how to make me laugh. He knows what to do when I'm crying. I feel so incredibly lucky to have him with me to share this experience. I feel like we have become so much closer during these past 12 days, and I was not prepared for this at all. One of the best things about this closeness is that now that I'm not pregnant, cuddling on the couch returns! All of this has just reinforced to me that marrying him was the smartest thing I've ever done.

(I couldn't resist posting these as well.)

Where to Begin?

Everett's now one week old. I know that some people, after bringing home new babies, say that they can't imagine their lives without the new addition. I am not one of those people. I can say, however, that it feels like he's been with us for far longer than just one week as so much as happened. So much so, that I don't even know where to start.

I could start with regaling you with stories of all the phone calls made to sisters, sisters-in-law, mothers, and mothers-in-law. Can you say that we're just a wee bit nervous about our new responsibility?

I could start with a story of what was possibly the worst 24 hours of my life: extreme episiotomy pain = visit to urgent care with the baby = more pain for me = Tylenol 3 with codeine = extremely lethargic baby = FREAKED out new parents = no more Tylenol 3 for me = sitting on a smelly donut-thingy. Then there's this: still-present jaundice = more lethargy in the baby = more freaked-outedness in the new parents. And then there's this: baby not having a bowel movement in more than 36 hours = call to stupid HMO = frustration over actually getting to talk to someone half-way intelligent about baby's health = trip to CVS for prune juice. These equalities happening at one time was enough to emotionally drain both Chuck and me.

I could also start with talking about the things that I want since bringing little Everett home. Of course I want sleep; that's a given for all new parents. But I want to be able to go to the bathroom without performing the eight steps it takes. I want to not feel inadequate about being little e's mom. I want to know how in the world I'm going to do all of this one my own when Chuck goes back to work. (I think I've changed six diapers TOTAL.)

Or I could simply start by trying to explain the feeling that Chuck and I get when we just look at that little guy. It's enough to make me cry, and Chuck, well, at least he gets close to tears. I could start with trying to explain how much we love this little guy even though we barely even know him. Or I could start by saying how it's all worth it.

Or I could just post pictures.

Meet Mr. Mullet

And in a bold move, I give you...Everett Lane. He's two days old now, but we've yet to hear him talk to us. PHEW. And since we love his name so much, we haven't even called him Mr. Mullet once. Amazing. (I know in the past I have referred to myself as only "e" and my dear husband and only "c." However, since I do realize that when I comment on my own blog it discloses my name, I'm pretty much over the initialization.)

Of course we're in love with him. Of course we're wondering how the hospital really could let us leave with him.

Here's little Rhett holding C's hand.

The always-horrible post-birth shot. Argh. But he looks too good to not include it.

Another one with the wide-eyed boy.

The car ride home.

I LOVE this one. Chilling at home.

And the proud papa.

P.S. The weird intro used above was something C and I got to hear in a recent fast and testimony meeting when one testimony bearer concluded and then let the next person speak. Awesome.

Where Did She Go?!

Even though the carpal tunnel in my left hand is killing me, the boredom is even worse. I can't sit still for long periods of time, can't type for long periods of time, can't lie down for long periods of time, and DC weather has been pretty dreary. What's a girl to do?!

Suffer through the pain and sew. I picked out a hat pattern from a book (Lotta Jansdotter's "Simple Sewing") that I wanted to try ever since I got the book. In the book the hat was sooo cute! I, however, got different results:

Hmm...long brim, anyone? Maybe, like the rest of my body, my face is just short. I'm still a little frustrated with the results and hopefully will be able to laugh soon.

Thank Goodness for Fridays...

I almost could add nothing else to this post and be done, given the picture is exactly how I'm feeling.

Today I had my last pre-natal OB appointment. News was much better than that received last week: I'm starting to dilate and efface, and the doc could feel the baby's head, even if she did have to stick half her arm inside me to do so. If nothing more happens between now and 12:00 a.m. Friday morning (Thursday midnight), C and I will be heading to the hospital so that I can be induced. Induction is certainly not my preference, but neither is begin pregnant for longer than 41 weeks.

Seeking Advice

Now that I'm all domesticated, I need some advice.

I hate mopping. My mom was a bucket and mop-that-required-squeezing woman. C's mom was a hands-and-knees woman. I am neither of these, as evidenced by the fact that our floors haven't been mopped in a too-embarrassing-to-admit amount of time. I'm intrigued by the Swiffer WetJet and wondered if anyone has any experience with it. Love it? Hate it? Have something better to suggest?

I'm also reconsidering my modus operandus for doing the by-hand dishes. I currently use a scrub brush that sits behind the faucet when not in use. But I just think there has to be something better out there. Again, any suggestions? I have only one sink, if that makes a difference.

Finally, if anyone knows methods for getting the feeling back in my left side, I'd be welcome to those suggestions as well. Especially if the suggestions don't tell me to just have the baby; believe me, I'm still working on that.

Why I May Not Return Your Phone Calls for a While

I had a doctor's appointment today. The verdict? Nothing's happening. Cervix still closed. Baby still content to stay in utero. But the worst part? They won't consider an induction until the 24th. That's TWO WEEKS from today. TWO WEEKS. I'm still having a hard time accepting this and if I have to talk about it, I'll cry. You don't want that. So please don't be offended when I don't answer the phone (C's on constant phone duty as we don't have caller ID), don't return emails, or don't come to church. Believe me, you'll all know when something does happen.

You're only allowed to comment on this post as long you promise to say none of the following:

• Don't worry; you're so close already! (Uh, after 39 weeks and two days, even five days seems too long.)
• He could still come early! (I realize that, but don't believe it.)
• He'll be here before you know it! (See the first bullet.)
• He'll come when he's ready. (I'm not concerned about him at this point. He's fine; I'm not.)
• Anything that sounds remotely like the previous bullets.

However, you may comment if you say things like, "Dude. That SUCKS."

P.S. And yes, these pictures of Bruno are recent. He developed some sort of rash in his nether region and in an attempt to save the $50 vet fee (plus any "necessary" meds), we thought we'd try the collar first. It seems to be working.

Does This Happen Anywhere Else?

Picture it: I'm driving to the gym and I see a street corner filled with household items. And when I say household items, I mean mattresses, furniture...the works. I think:

a) Garage sale! Better call my mom.
b) Spring cleaning. Hmmm...wonder if they'd come do my house.
c) None of the above.

Definitely (c). Why? Because at least in my county of Maryland, this is what happens when tenants are evicted. After the lengthy period that it takes to actually evict someone, the cops are called and they manually remove all of the tenants' items, leaving the items in a big pile on the street.

Sometimes I want to feel bad for the tenants, but most of the time I don't. My aunt and uncle are very involved in real estate and I've heard horror stories about the things that tenants can do and Do do. It's amazing. Besides, it's not like eviction is an easy process for the landlords. It takes months. So the tenants are fully aware that this is going to happen to them.

Every time that I drive by these "garage sales," there are people going through the items. I'm never sure if these are the actual owners, or people who just want to "purchase" the junk. In fact, the only time I feel bad at all for these people is when I see kids going through the stuff.

I know this post is mostly ramblings, but these occurrences never cease to amaze me. I don't remember ever seeing this in Utah, but I never lived in such apartment-landia like I do now. Anyone else see this where they live?

P.S. I would have posted a picture of this but I've never had the courage to actually take a picture.

Maternity Leave: Day 1

Yesterday was the first day of my maternity leave. A girl could really get used to this. Especially if she wasn't 8.5 months pregnant and if a baby never came. Staying home and playing housewife is really fun.

What did I do? Of course, the paper must be read. It's so much more enjoyable reading it with breakfast (PopTarts, yum) than over lunch. Then I started cooking. I made some frog-eye salad and this yummy delicious chicken salad. Then I started the cleaning and got some dusting done as well as the bed stripped. I walked Bruno to the mailbox since the day was simply gorgeous (mid-60s and sunny). Then it was time for the doctor's appointment where, sadly, nothing has changed. Sigh. The worst part of the appointment was scheduling another appointment for after the due date. Double Sigh. After that, I took my car to be cleaned and then stopped at the grocery store. I got home, finished some cleaning, and stuck the roast in the oven (roast in the oven--wha???). Then it was time for some internetting. I even made some cookies that I froze so that when Mr. Mullet does finally come and I want some cookies, they'll be ready.

By the time this was done, it was time for C to come home from work. Greeting my husband as he walks in from work is a feeling I haven't had often, but I really like it. I feel like I should have been wearing some sort of half apron and bright red lipstick.

The best news is that I get to do it all over again. Today includes reading the paper, internetting, trip to the DMV, walking the dog, trip to the gym, more cleaning, then a baby shower given for me by the cute Young Women.

Like I said, I could really get used to this.

I Support the "No Work on Leap Day Revolution" and So Should You

Gene Weingarten's latest article in the Washington Post magazine really made me think. To me, tomorrow (leap day) is a lot like the extra hour we get in the Fall during the change from Daylight Saving Time back to standard time. It's a bonus. A free day. A day to do things that maybe we wouldn't have done if it were a "regular" day.

Like the man in the article, I want to do something cRaZee tomorrow. Something like pull my kids out of school. Oh wait, I don't have any kids. Okay, skip work. Well...I probably shouldn't do that since it is my last day before maternity leave. Also like the man in the article, I am Mormon and therefore won't be, "drinking alcohol or getting wild." (Gosh, this being Mormon sure seems to take the fun out of things!)

So since I can't skip work, get sloshed, or go wild, what will I do??? Given my current "delicate condition," most likely it will end up being finding a comfortable spot on the couch and not moving since it's hard to find that comfortable spot. But what will you do???

Who knows? Maybe I'll go just a touch wild and have some rice krispie treats. Now there's something I don't do every day.