Three months of Max

I can't believe Max is now three months old. I swear, it seems like just yesterday we were driving to the hospital and he came out screaming his squeaky little scream.

But now, three months have passed and he smiles (but never for the camera), laughs wide-open mouth laughs, "talks," kicks, and plays. He lost his hair, and then gained it back.

And my capacity to love him just grows each day.

What worries me and makes me sad is that it will be over before I know it. While I enjoy all the milestones he's reaching, I'm already sad that he's not his tiny baby self anymore.

He looks so serious, doesn't he?

Dear Santa

Dear Santa,

I am so behind this year. Here it is, December the sixteenth, and I have not bought one Christmas present. I barely got my tree up and decorated two days ago. And I have baked nary a Christmas goodie.

How can this be? you ask. It seems I am somewhat preoccupied these days. Juggling baby, work, laundry, cooking and cleaning has worn me out to the point where I cannot even watch a 20 minute TV show without dozing off and waking up an hour later asking Andy "What did I miss? Can you rewind?" (never mind the fact that he has moved onto and almost finished with another show).

I don't have time to eat meals anymore. It is 7:21 pm and I still have not fed myself anything for dinner besides one piece of buttered wheat toast.

Santa, I am tired so deep in my bones I sometimes have a hard time putting one foot in front of the other just to climb into my bed. (I know other moms out there are calling me a whiner, but cut me some slack - I'm new to all this juggling business.)

So the reason I'm writing you this letter is to make some special requests for those special people in my life.

For Andy: a job that pays him what he deserves. It's nice that he's working (trust me, we're grateful), but a guy can only work so many 12- to 16-hour shifts for lower pay. I think he might just fall apart one night and I won't know how to put him back together. The question is whether the emotional falling-apart or physical will come first.

For Max: a bigger stomach. I am trying to hard to get this kid on a feeding schedule, but now matter how much time elapses between feedings, he gets hungry early! A mom can only devote so much time in her life to preparing food, serving food, and cleaning up after the food for her child. If he were only more predictable, would eat more during a feeding, it would be ever so helpful for me.

For my parents and sisters: whatever they want. They have been so great, so supportive, so loving, and such great cheerleaders and babysitters since we moved to Utah and decided to remodel our house. They deserve whatever they want.

Seriously.

And for me, Santa: well, after I wrote this post and got the complaints all out of my system, the only thing I can think to ask for is this: please let me always remember every moment of what it's like to be a wife, a mother, a daughter, sister, and friend to these great people. I complain that there's too much to do, not enough time to do it, and not enough energy to go around, but even when I'm bone-tired, I get a hug, a smile, a laugh and there is noplace else I would rather be.

Or anything else I'd rather be doing.

Think you can deliver, Santa?

I hope so.

Love,
Alicia

PS: Thank you for bringing back Chuck.
PSS: Do you think you can help me get back to my pre-pregnancy weight any quicker? Thought I'd ask...

Max laughs in his sleep

I walked into the room and heard a little "heh, heh, heh" going on in there.

But he was asleep! Half smile, eyes rolled back, and everything.

It was just too darn cute. But I wasn't able to capture the smile, so you'll just have to enjoy him sleeping in his hedgehog romper and sneaker socks.

By the way, where can I get my own sneaker socks?

My new favorite

This is not the best picture, but I tried to catch him in action, and all I had handy was my phone.

I love to be around when Max wakes up. He stretches his arms and legs, but as he stretches his legs, he essentially does a leg lift - lifting his legs straight up in the air.

What makes it so funny is that usually he's wrapped in a blanket, so the little blanket just goes straight up in the air, and comes back down. Usually about three or four times.

Is there a point when every move he makes doesn't charm the pants off me?

Seriously.

PS: Don't you love my piles of laundry? While I work, I put him to sleep on the guest bed in the room across the hall. It is also where I fold my laundry. Gotta love being a working mom!

Max in action

Seriously. I just want to eat him up.

And while I lso love him being a tiny baby, it's really fun to watch him grow and change. He weighs 10 lbs 4 oz now, and loves his play gym from IKEA. He can actually hit the tnings on the sides and make them spin.

This is an action shot of him playing with it. He's making lots of noise and kicking. In his man dress. Nightshirt. While we get ready to drive to Denver.

Again.

But seriously, he's just so cute none of it even matters.

My friend Heather

My friend Heather was the type of girl who made everyone feel like they were her best friend. I know I wasn't her best friend, but each time I talked to or spent time with her, she made me feel like I was the coolest, nicest, sweetest person she knew.

I think that's because she was such a cool, nice, sweet person. I wish everyone could have known Heather because they would have loved her and become a better person for knowing her.

She passed away over the weekend, losing her brave fight with breast cancer. I can't help but ask questions like "Why her?" Because let's be honest, the last person Heavenly Father needs right now is a young wife and mother of three children. She needs to be here taking care of her family.

I've been in shock all weekend and have done a lot of crying. For her sweet husband Eldon, for her beautiful children Elle, Emma, and Makai. I was privileged to serve them in several ways over the past year, and they always made me feel like I was helping them so much, when the truth was, they helped me more than I think I ever could have helped them.

From Heather, I have learned...
...to have love in my heart for everyone.
...to be more softspoken.
...to be welcoming of all.
...to keep my opinions to myself unless asked.
...to try not to say unkind things about others.
... to be more gracious.
...to always serve others.


And a million other things that I can't even think of right now.

While I'm certainly not great at all these things, Heather's example helped me learn to try to be better. Being better at these things will help me be more like her, and she was actually pretty near perfect.

I'm so grateful I had the chance to get to know her. She touched my life in a way I didn't expect, and will forever be grateful for.

Getting settled

We finally are moved in to the point where I was able to find the cable that will let me get pictures off my camera. Sheesh! It's hard to unpack boxes when I have a tiny person demanding my attention all day.

Honestly, I don't mind. He's much more interesting and fun than unpacking boxes.

Tomorrow Max will be 8 weeks old. I swear, the time has gone by so fast I think I'll blink and he'll be on a mission or telling me he doesn't want to go on a mission before I know it.

In the meantime, enjoy these pictures. He looks so different from the last pictures I posted, but every day, his ability to melt my heart just increases 100fold.

I'm copying my friend Stephanie and posing him with the same stuffed toy every month to see how he's grown in relation to the toy. I had to choose Max because that is who he is named after - the naughty little boy Max from Where the Wild Things Are.


He loves to sleep with his arms up, just like his daddy. He gets so mad when I try to swaddle him, but if I leave his arms out, he's great.

He hates to wear a hat, but I bought so many cute ones, I insist. And then I insist that I take his picture.

Because who can resist a cute kid wearing a dinosaur hat? Not me!

I promise to get back into blogging. Now that my maternity leave is ending, I'll be back on my computer all day long.

As promised some pictures of the infamous Max

I had no idea how much I would love being a mom. I'm sure all women say this, but I think I mean it more than anyone. (Maybe not, but still, I'm going to say it.) I tell everyone this is the job I was made to do. In fact, is it too soon to start again?

Maybe. (I am still a little sore, after all.)

Maybe it's so awesome because I waited so long? You know, the whole "you have to wait for all worthwhile things" or however that saying goes.

Or maybe it's because I thought it would never happen? Like when you're a teenager and you think you'll never turn 16 and be able to drive - never - but then it happens and you can and you love it so much you'll run any errand your mom asks you to run, just so you can sit behind the wheel of her mom car.

Or I guess maybe it's just because I gave birth to the most beautiful and perfect child ever. (For now. Because let's face it, he'll grow up sometime and become a teenager who always wants to drive my car.)

But you can decide for yourself: here is the perfect child at his first big photo shoot. His daddy picked out the wardrobe, set up the set, and took the pictures while his mom and grandma just stood there and laughed as he stretched his super long legs, constantly rolled to his left side, and kept shoving his fists in his mouth. As if they'll fit.

He got a little overstimulated, but hey, it was for a good cause. If you're on facebook, find Andy - he posted all 60-some odd photos on his site and you can see them all there.

I refuse to participate in facebook. Sorry.

It turns out I can do hard things

Like for instance, get this little person from my inside to my outside (that was hard).

And like be home alone to take care of this little person my last day in the hospital and my first day home from the hospital (Andy had to work). I even managed to fit a shower and a kitchen clean-up into my day.

I'm pretty much just amazed at what our bodies are made for and the incredible feats they can pull off.

Anyway, a lot of people are asking for the story and more pictures. You can read the story here, but I have not unloaded pics from my camera yet or had a chance to take new ones, so you'll have to wait for Andy to do the pics. I promise they'll be soon!

I have been planning a blog post for quite some time now to let everyone know how and what we're doing. The last couple of months have been rough - Andy was in Utah for 6 weeks working and looking for a house for us, and I was home working, suffering through some pretty severe back pain, trying to get the house packed up and ready for this baby.

Andy found us a house and we thought we'd move out there before he came. We planned on going the weekend of September 25, and Andy came home two weeks before that to work in Colorado and we started working towards that date.

At one point, I just wasn't feeling it, and tried to get him to change it, but we had a bit of a discussion about what to do. Finally we decided to stay in Colorado and have the baby - I was planning on being induced on October 12, just after my due date (October 10). It was a good plan and we moved forward with it. I scheduled an express childbirth class on Saturday September 26, a baby shower on Sunday September 27, and a breastfeeding class on Monday September 28. It felt like a solid plan.

On Friday evening September 25, I was having really mild contractions and then my water broke when I was going to the bathroom. I didn't realize that's what happened and went on with my evening. I did call my doctor and she said that she was on the fence - it might be something to worry about, might not, but to go to the hospital if things got worse. We had breakfast at IHOP. and when we got home about 9:00, I realized bleeding and contractions were worse and convinced Andy we should at least go get checked out. As a precaution.

So off we went to the ER, both of us just exhausted and not in the mood to sit in the ER and then go home after two hours. However, once I got on the exam table, the rest of my water gushed out and I was told we were not going home until I had that baby, within the next 24 hours. We were shocked!

So about 11:00 pm they put me on pitocin to get things moving along, I got my epidural around 4:00 am, started pushing around noon, turned on some Beatles music around 12:15, and at 1:15 pm he was born. What a surprise and a blessing all wrapped in one.

I'm sure you know we named him Max - Maxwell Kenshi Ahlstrom. Max after a favorite children's book (Where the Wild Things Are) and Kenshi after a Japanese samurai to honor Andy's Japanese culture. He weighed 6 lbs 7 oz and was 21 inches long. The first thing the doc said when he came out was, "Oh! He has a cleft chin!" Andy and I looked at each other and said, "What? Where did he get that from?" We could not think of anyone in our families who has one, but I'm thinking my dad does, we just don't notice it because of his goatee/beard. Funny.

Turns out my fluid was infected, which they think is why I went early. I had a fever during labor and Max came out a little on the warm side. We both had to have oxygen, but a day or so later, everyone is fine.

So there's the story. We're home from the hospital now, Max is doing great, no one is sleeping, but everyone's happy.

I'll post more when I get more pics of little Max. Thanks everyone for the emails and well wishes!

PS: We're moving to Kaysville in a few weeks. See some of you very soon!

Just a pain in the...

I've tried not to be one of those pregnant women who complains all the time. Well, I've tried to be one who complains to just my family instead of everyone. But can I just say this: being pregnant is hard!

At the end of July, Andy and I drove to Utah to find a place to live, since our first offer didn't work out. About 30 minutes into our drive, I developed this immobilizing back pain, and about six hours into what turned out to be about a 10 or maybe even 11 hour drive, Andy pulled over and made a bed for me in the back of the van. I finally found relief.

But ever since that day, I have had back pain. So painful that I only find relief when standing, walking, or lying down. No sitting for me! Which makes sitting at a computer pretty tough. Which makes working tough. And more importantly, which makes posting new blog entries tough.

Sheesh.

I started seeing a chiropractor last week, and am getting a little relief. Here's hoping the relief keeps coming, because we are not at all ready for this baby and I have so much work to do!

Where has the time gone?

So July has sped by, and the only thing I can remember about it is this: Emails. Paperwork. Addendums. And lots of money.

We put an offer on a house the first week of July, and have been stuck in a whirlwind of offers, counteroffers, inspections, and money transfers to accommodate everything.

It finally culminated this past Tuesday with us cancelling the contract and walking away from the house we loved so much, because the people selling the house were not super (or at all, really) coooperative.

Bah.

We went out for a pricey crab leg dinner and Cinnabon dessert to try to drown our sorrows. Here's hoping the next one goes a little more smoothly. And that we have a place for little Max to sleep when he arrives in a couple of months!

PS: The house was in Utah. Did I say that? Andy and I are planning on moving to Utah. Today, anyway...if things keep NOT working out, maybe we'll end up somewhere else ... location TBD.

Sick day

I always thought the hardest part of pregnancy (for me) would be dealing with headaches.

I have had headaches for as long as I can remember, and have been on all sorts of medication for them. When Andy and I got married, I weaned myself off the meds and just took Excedrin or Excedrin PM when I got a headache. Since that obviously can't happen when you're pregnant, I thought it would be tough to survive headaches sans Excedrin.

As it turns out, I've only had two really bad headaches while pregnant. (yay!)

What I have had (and am on my third one) are sinus infections and most recently, a really bad viral infection. This thing has knocked me flat on my back - I have stopped working and been in bed or on the couch for almost two weeks now. Coughing, hacking, draining, you name it - it's happening at our house, and I'm not a happy camper about it.

Especially because the dead moths just continue to pile up. Ugh.

Wish me well soon. I hate looking outside at the sun and wishing I could be out there, when instead I'm lying on the couch surrounded by piles of tissue, hugging a humidifier.

Which is better?

On Saturday, I set out to conquer our moth problem once and for all. They are ONLY in our entryway (unless we leave the door open between the entryway and the house), and they cover that room. On any given night, there must be at least two to three dozen moths hanging around.

Gross.

So, on Saturday, armed with the vacuum cleaner hose, I started sucking them up. One, two, three, thwump, thump, thwump, they all went in. I must have vacuumed two dozen moths before satisified I got them all.

Not so.

I tuned around to put away the vacuum, and heard tiny moth wings beating behind me - five more had just appeared! I proceeded to suck them up, and turned to put away the vacuum once more.

And they just kept coming back. They crawled out of the window, I'm guessing from somewhere in the depths of our shoe cabinet, which I opened, and sucked out the moths I could see in there. I think one of them laid eggs that stay dormant all year and hatch in the spring. They flew everywhere, attacking me - flying at my head, beating their tiny, grossy, dusty moth wings at me, as if they were ready for war.

In hindsight, I realized I was attacking them after all - why wouldn't they attack back? Maybe because it's not their house! They don't pay rent - I do!

Still - gross.

So I bought a bug bomb so we could fog the place. Andy set it on Monday, and I came home to four moths in that room - all of them dead, and now I'm finding dead moths everywhere.

So you tell me - which is better? Dozens upon dozens of live moths, or stepping on a dead moth and getting moth dust on your bare foot?

I'll say it again: gross.

A friday surprise (kind of)

On Friday, here is what we learned about Baby Ahlstrom:

He is a he. That's right, we'll have a mini-Andy in about four months. (I wasn't 100% sure, but had suspected a boy, because everything I'm wearing these days is blue. Weird, but it turned out to be true.)

He is super active - so why is it that I still can't feel him moving? Something to do with the thickness of my placenta. (um...what?) Hopefully he'll move soon. You'd think with Andy tapping my stomach and commanding him to move all morning would work, but not yet. I guess this kid has already decided to show us his rebellious side.

His brain, heart, and facial structure look great.

All his measurements are average (good), which the doctor said was great. Andy was all, "Just average?" And I was like, "Dude, at this point, I do NOT want our kid to be above average size, because I'm the one who has to get him out!" Right? Right.

The real question is this: what in the world do we name him? We had no problem choosing and agreeing on girl names, but we cannot agree on boy names. We need some suggestions! (Real suggestions - this means you, Jon Tolman.)

I've officially joined the club

I know there are lots of milestones and big things that automatically make a woman a member of the Motherhood Club, the biggest and most official being actual labor (still trying to figure out how to get around that one).

Clearly, I haven't gone through labor yet, but something else has happened to me twice in the last week that I think pretty much cements my admittance into said club: I sneezed and peed my pants.

But just a little.

Be honest: It only gets worse from here, doesn't it?

Springtime visitors

I don't remember a lot from my childhood, but I do remember this: When I was in junior high, a group of my friends were hanging out at this guy's house. He wanted to show us his cool bird (I don't even remember what kind it was, just that it was big). That bird must have been so excited to get out of his cage, because he flapped around and around the room, squawking, trying to find a safe place to land. As a couple of kids chased him around the room, he frantically landed on what he must have thought was a safe nest - directly on top of my head. (I had very curly hair, I suppose much akin to a bird's nest.) When he realized it was a head, not a nest, the bird became even more frenzied and tried to break free, causing him to become completely tangled up in my hair. It took three people and what felt like hours to un-tangle that stupid bird. I was officially traumatized and have despised crazed, flying animals ever since.

Bats and moths come to mind, but we don't have bats. Instead, we get moths.

There are so many downsides to Andy being gone that I won't even try to list them. But the worst one by far has to be those wretched moths.

Every spring, they appear in our entryway. They just appear - loads of them. And I hate them. Some manage to sneak into the house. And they came last week. I had to get something from my car at night, so I turned on the light and walked into the entryway, and was greeted by at least a dozen moths, frantically swooping at my head, trying to get into the house.

It was that stupid, frantic bird all over again, minus the squawking. And it was gross.

I can't think of them just like butterflies, because they are NOT like butterflies. Butterflies are calm and serene. They float. Moths are just frenzied, and they cause me to be frenzied and walk around my house with a flyswatter, swinging at the air as they evade my attacks.

To date, I have killed five of them, but they keep coming back. They disappear during the day and reappear at night, all crazed and scrambling for the light.

Gross.

Who knows of a better way to get rid of these wretched creatures?

I'm airing my dirty laundry (and dishes, and giant vats of Cheez Balls)

When Andy's gone, this is what happens to our house. At least lately.

Sadly, this is not the worse my kitchen has looked in the last two weeks.

Just home from Costco, and too lazy to put stuff away.

I just have to point out the giant vat of Cheez Balls. I laughed when Heather gave those to me, but sadly, I'm the only one who has eaten them, and look how much I've eaten!

A few months ago, it was because I was so sick. Now I'm just so...

...lazy?
...sloppy?
...tired?

Who knows, but he's been gone for two weeks* and we have a week and a half to go. I better get cleaning if I want to be done by the time he's back.

It's funny, because as the Compassionate Service Leader for our ward, I'm pretty okay at pulling people together to deliver food, help with people's houses, and other services. But when it comes to pulling myself together to take care of my own house...forget it.

I wonder why that is?

*Andy's in Aspen shooting a movie. Doesn't he have such a glamorous life? While I stay behind, sitting on the couch eating Bon-Bons and watching Hulu because we cancelled our cable. (Seriously, why does having children make us do crazy things to save money?)

I am a murderer

It's not every day of my life that I walk around thinking about offing someone - just occasionally, like when I have a bad day at work or a particularly unpleasant run-in with another driver. But today, I realized (thanks to Andy calling me a murderer), that I am a murderer. It wasn't pre-meditated, but I am a murderer nonetheless.

I took life from someone. Or better said, I neglected to sustain life for someone. And I feel sick inside.

Allow me to explain: Last fall, Andy's dad took a job in the east, and his mom went to the west to help his sister. She asked me if I wanted some plants, since she wouldn't be here to take care of them. "Sure," I said - naievely thinking that "some" meant less than 10. I have less than 10 plants in my house, and I would say I have "some." And I have no problem caring for them.

She dropped off approximately two dozen plants, of varying sizes, shapes, and textures. A week later, Andy drove to her house to bring back almost 10 more giant sized plants, some as needy as a newborn.

They filled up all our kitchen counters, plus floor space. Some needed lots of sun and little water. Others needed constant watering and did okay without much sun. A few (not many) were DOA, and went straight to the trash.

I tried my best to sustain them, I really did. In fact, I did okay for a few months. But then I got pregnant and while some people think my nurturing tendencies would have heightened, they completely went out the window. I kept telling myself it's because I was so sick all I could do was walk from the couch to the bathroom. I couldn't clean my house, couldn't even put on makeup, let alone water some plants. But the truth remains: however I rationalized it, here I stand four and a half months later with a room full of dead plants. Oh, and bugs all over our house - some dead, some still living.

The bugs love the plants.

I kill the bugs, and I also killed the plants - I am a murderer.

Does this mean I am unable to nurture living things once I get sick? If so, let's everyone pray for this baby that I don't ever get sick. I keep thinking that at least a baby will make noise when it's hungry. The plants were just so quiet, I couldn't help but ignore them.

Darn those plants.

32

I can't believe I'm 32. When my mom was 32, she had at least three of her kids.

When I was 22, I thought I was so old. Um, nope. I was so young. Now my body feels old, but inside, I feel like I'm still 22. Unfortunately, sometimes I still act like I'm 22.

On the plus side, I got a fun little present from Andy...he made up my mind for me about which phone I should get.

And let me tell you, it is worth every penny! I had no idea how much use I had for an iPhone. He tells me, "It's not a phone - it's a lifestyle." And he's right.

Thanks to everyone for celebrating 32 with me!

Two more things:

1) If you want more than three comments on your blog, post that you're pregnant. It was nice to hear from all of you!

2) If you haven't already, go look at this.

They say it's about the size of a lime

It's been a rough couple of months at the Ahlstrom household - sickness, lots of work, new callings, more sickness. Oh yeah, and then there's this:

Yep, it's true. And we managed to (mostly) keep it a secret for almost 13 weeks - hard. This morning we had an ultrasound and saw Baby Ahlstrom bouncing around for the camera, showing us its ginormous alien head.

Even though I've been the sickest I've ever been, it took that ultrasound to make it real for me, and reality is sinking in with each passing minute.

And now I can say thank you - for keeping us in your prayers, for still being my friend even though I didn't tell you our little secret, and for sending good vibes out to our family while it took us so long to reach this point.

Now let's just pray that we can make it until October 11.

Smelly feet

I've never really been the kind of person to take my shoes off when I go into someone else's house, especially my own. Unless they specifically request it, but when they do, it makes me feel weird. Walking around someone else's house in my socks (or no socks) with a bunch of other people just doesn't feel right.

Then I married Andy, who is half Japanese and we moved into his parents' old house. His Japanese mother added this entryway onto said house - a specific place for people to leave their shoes when they came in. It has some Japanese name, which I cannot remember at present.

Andy convinced me I would love it, and I wasn't so sure. But when he pointed out that I would have an entire shoe room instead of just a few measley racks in the closet, the idea grew on me.

Just look at where I get to store all my shoes!

And thus I joined the club of taking off my shoes when I came into the house. Actually, I probably became the leader.

Usually, it's not too big a deal. We take off our shoes, and when people come over and see the big pile of shoes, they take off their shoes too. No big deal, right?

Except last night, we had the young men and young women over to our house to work on a movie project with Andy. I sat downstairs catching up on The Martha Stewart Show (she has great ideas okay!) while everyone sat upstairs writing their scripts and throwing popcorn all over the kitchen. When everyone left, I went upstairs to help Andy clean up, and the whole upstairs reeked.

It. Was. Rank.

Smelly like an entire high school basketball team had wiped our furniture, cabinets, and appliances down with their wet jerseys after a championship game. And we even had really strong scented plug-ins and a Scentsy "candle" burning - what the heck? When I told Andy it smelled like a locker room, he said he's pretty sure it was one of the young men's feet. His feet?

Maybe I just don't get that because I didn't grow up with brothers, but holy cow! Whose feet are stinky enough to smell up an entire first floor of a house?

Before they came over, I spent 30 minutes cleaning the floors so that their wouldn't get dirty inside my house, but when dirty feet come inside my house and make my house dirty, it makes me not very happy.

This poor young man, I don't mean to pick on him. But I just might rethink the whole "remove your shoes before you walk into my house" thing.

All right, I need some help - who has an answer for me?

I am married to a man who loves Chinese food. Which means that every time he gets a craving, we have two choices:

1) We can go out and get good Chinese food.

2) I can make Chinese food, and then 10 minutes after we try it, we can go out and get good Chinese food.

Because I am not good at making Chinese food.

I would say that most people who know me, or at least the people who have lived near me and been invited to dinner, would say I'm a pretty good cook. I can make pretty much anything, and it usually turns out pretty good, sometimes even great. It's all about identifying great recipes, really.

But I have not had any success with Chinese food. Sure, I've made lots of stir-fries (beef, chicken, shrimp - you name it), and while they're healthy and packed with veggies, they just don't taste anything like what you get in a Chinese restaurant. We've decided it's all about the sauce, and I just haven't found any recipes with that good restaurant-like stir-fry sauce.

So I'm putting this out there: do you have a stir-fry recipe with good sauce that tastes (almost) as good as a chinese restaurant? If so, email it to me. Our budget depends on it!

(Yes, I'll settle for almost. I'm being realistic here, and know that it will never be as good a the restaurant.)

Have you ever seen someone you know on the national news?

I was just taking a break from work (and let's be honest, Ed), when I caught this article on msn.com.

I thought the blurb sounded interesting - "Man who helped elderly woman to safety gets ticket," but imagine my surprise when I opened the link and saw a picture of a man who used to be in my ward when I lived in downtown Denver!

Jim was always extremely nice and always cheerful and helpful. You can figure that out just by reading that he was helping elderly women cross the street when he was hit by a truck. I can't believe they want to give him a ticket for jaywalking - what was his option - don't jaywalk and watch old women get hit? Seriously.

I'm glad Jim's going to be okay. The world needs more people just like him.

We are so lazy

Can you imagine a perpetual Saturday morning, where you get to lounge around on the couch with your favorite person and watch your favorite cartoons?

Well, that's what has been happening at our house the last couple of weeks, except instead of cartoons, we are watching old episodes of Ed. Remember Ed? (What a delightful show.).

I've been waking up around 5:00 am, getting some work done in my office, sitting in on some conference calls, eating some cereal - all in my pajamas. Then, a few hours later, Andy wakes up, turns on the TV, and I move my work downstairs to the couch, and we relish in the joy of visiting Stuckeyville. Working from home can be so lovely some days.

Don't you love Saturday mornings? I keep thinking that at some point the perpetual Saturdays will have to come to an end, but in the meantime, I'll enjoy Stuckeybowl, fine Corinthian turkeys, and that fine young man, Warren Cheswick.

And craving bacon cheeseburgers pie. Because let's face it, they ate a lot of bacon cheeseburgers and pie on that show.

What's that on your head?

Check out the latest webisode (episode 06) for our dear friends Eldon and Heather Kartchner.

When I first watched it, I laughed so hard I cried. And then wanted to throw up when I saw the last skit - be forwarned, it's a little gross.

What time did you get up this morning?

I got up at 6:30, but actually it was 4:30. "Why was I waking up at 4:30, thinking it was 6:30?" you might ask. Really, it's simple: my alarm clock is out to get me.

A few weeks ago, I had a 7:00 am meeting on a Monday. The plan: Wake up at 6:00, to ensure I had enough time to get up, read my scriptures, and putter around before starting to work. So I set my alarm: 6:00 am.

I always wake up just before my alarm goes off. It's this weird thing - no matter what time it is set for, I wake up one minute before, turn it off, and I'm awake. I guess Andy's lucky because he never has to hear the alarm going off for me in the morning.

Anyhow, I woke up at 5:59 am, waited for a good 20 minutes, walked downstairs, and turned on my computer. (Have I mentioned that working at home is awesome?) As I was waiting for it to boot up, I noticed how dark it was outside, and thought that was weird.

Five minutes later, I was logged in, and the clock on my computer said 4:25 am. Huh? I went downstairs and looked at our microwave, stove, and cable box clocks: all said 4:25. Then I went upstairs and looked at my alarm clock: 6:25. It was two hours fast!

I figured I must have messed up the time when I was setting the alarm, set it back to normal, and went on with my (very long) day - that was two weeks ago.

This morning, I had a 7:30 meeting. I didn't even set my alarm - I just woke up when my clock read 6:30, went downstairs, and logged in. Guess what? It was really 4:30 am. For the love! So I went back to bed, knowing my clock was an hour and a half fast (and too lazy to reset it), and woke up when the clock said 8:30, which should have been 7:00. When I went down to my computer, it was only 6:30.

My clock had moved two hours ahead. How? And why? And since when does waking up require doing so much math?

The burning question for me is this: why such a lapse in between acting up? It was strange a few weeks ago, and then has worked just fine until last night. What did I ever do to make it annoyed? I guess when you're using an alarm clock that's over 10 years old, maybe it's time to kick it to the curb...

What good is a king-size bed when you're in it alone?

I was so excited to buy a king-size bed last year. The idea that I could sleep without being kicked, elbowed, or losing the covers was really appealing. But now that we have had said bed for a year, I don't know that I love it.

Mostly because I found myself wide awake and all alone in our huge, freezing bed, in our huge, freezing bedroom at 2:00 am this morning. When there is only one body on one side of a king-size bed and your bedroom used to be an attic, things can get pretty chilly in the winter. I tried making an "Andy" out of pillows, to keep his side of the bed a little warmer and avoid going on a man-hunt for him, but it was to no avail. Those pillows just weren't warm enough.

So I went on the hunt downstairs and found him fast asleep on our sectional. Unable to wake him, I decided to lay perpendicular to him on the other part of the sectional - our TV room is a lot warmer, and let's be honest, I sleep better when he's nearby. Except sleeping better wasn't all that awesome when I got kicked - in the head. Yes, his feet were right next to my head, and I was wedged right between them and the sectional pillows with nowhere to go.

Bless his heart (because isn't that what you say when you're mad at someone and trying not to be?), he had no clue all this was happening at 2:07 am. Andy is one of the heaviest sleepers I know.

So. I have been awake since 2:00 am. In my Goldilocks efforts to catch some zzzz's, I went back upstairs to our big bed, hoping to stay warmer with a heavy sweater over my pjs (didn't work), I went back to the couch, pushing Andy's feet as far away from my head as I could (kind of worked), I walked into the guest room and pretty much got an instant headache from the smell of Andy's bicycle tires that are in there (clearly didn't work), and finally landed back on the couch until 6:30, when I went back to my large, cold, bed. I had to get up at 7:00 to get ready for a 7:30 meeting.

Except the clock by my bed now said 7:20 - what?! That was a scary shock. I ran downstairs to check the time, and somehow (I have no idea), my alarm clock moved 50 minutes ahead. It really was 6:30, and my heart was now pounding faster than I thought humanly possible.

Let me just say. This is not a great way to start your day, especially my Wednesday which is filled with conference calls from 7:30 am to 6:30 pm. At least I can take them in my pjs.

You didn't think I'd abandoned you, did you?

I would understand if you did.

I didn't realize anyone (other than AnJanette) even noticed I'd stopped, and then Daniel made a comment last night about how I've stopped blogging. People read my blog? And don't comment so I don't know they're reading?

I guess I better start writing again. But that seems like too much work this morning, so for now I'll just give you some pictures.

Yes, I cut my hair. It's already time for another trim. Some days I'm glad I cut it, and other days, not so much. And yes, it was fun smashing two whipped cream pies in Jack's face. You can see a video of it here - episode 05.

I think Anna should wear her hair like this permanently.

No, Andy did not grow out his hair. If you want to see where these wigs took us, you'll have to check here on Friday - episode 06 will be a good one! I'm giving you a sneak peek at the risk of getting in trouble. The afro pic was just too good to not post online immediately.

And in the meantime, I'll try to be a better blogger. Thanks Daniel for reminding me I actually did have a blog.

Hiatus

I'm taking a break from blogging (obviously, since my track record is now approximately one month between posts). Kind of like they do on TV - an extended break. It seems I'm just too busy to keep posting random thoughts right now.

Check back someday soon.