Where Everybody Knows Your Name?

Brent and I decided to make enchiladas for dinner. The plan was to make extra and freeze it for the day when the new baby help has dried up but I'm still not feeling up to making a whole meal. Liesel had been having a day. It's not unusual for her to get fussy at church but she was really irritable today. After church, she had just a one hour nap (as opposed to her usual three) and cried pitifully and relentlessly for Brent after that. He figured she was teething because that's so unlike her so he gave her a dose of Motrin. While we rolled enchiladas, she insisted on standing up in her highchair and fussing. We couldn't have her running around our feet while we were at the stove with very hot food items. Again, she was having a rough day and particularly fussy. To keep her safe, Brent put her in on the guest bed with some toys and some Muppet videos on the computer. She's climbed up and down from that bed dozens of times with no problem.

A few minutes later we heard a loud crack and ran in to find Liesel face down on the floor. Brent swept her up in his arms and I was relieved to see there was no broken nose and no bloody mouth. We returned to the kitchen and Brent put her back in her high chair. It wasn't until then we saw the ginormous goose egg emerging from her forehead. I just about went into labor right then and there as my biggest motherhood fears were realized. Brent and I went into a flurry of activity putting away our enchilada stuff, throwing on clothes, putting together an ice pack, grabbing Liesel's medical records, keys, wallets and gathering what was left of our composure to try and remember the fastest route to Children's Hospital. You may not be able to see it very well, but the bump takes up half of her forehead and the picture doesn't do the bruising justice. Really, she looked horrible. We were a tornado of activity around her as she tenderly touched it while sobbing "boo boo?" The pleading look in her eyes seemed to ask us if she'd done something wrong. It absolutely broke my heart.

Now I'm sure there are many veteran mothers out there who are rolling their eyes at me. Logically I know toddlers often get head injuries. They're new to walking and don't understand their boundaries yet. Their bodies heal faster than an adults does and head injuries swell like crazy. One of my good friends once told me "kids bounce" and her MD friend told her when kids are really injured it's more likely abuse than a simple accident. However, being pregnant I'm particularly sensitive to children in pain and seeing my own girl with something that HUGE and already bruising on her head will undoubtedly keep me uptight for weeks to come. As if sitting in the emergency room isn't stressful enough, I found myself surrounded by sick and injured children and the thought that any of them had been abused made me want to bawl my eyes out. Perhaps by the time Liesel's little sister is old enough to take a dive onto a hardwood floor I'll be more calloused, but for now I reserve the right to panic.

At Children's I repeatedly asked any official person who would listen to me if I was over-reacting and they all said no, it was a pretty bad bump and it was a good thing we brought her in. Three hours, a $50 copay and $9 in parking later we had instructions to keep an eye on Liesel and she was happily singing BINGO in her car seat. We're still not sure what happened, but something must have tied her up for her to make a fall like that. We put her to bed, finished the enchiladas and sat down completely exhausted. Not that it was all horrible. I had to laugh at how the guy at the check-in desk wrote Brent's name on his tag. I still can't decide what it says... Whtehuher? Wluiehulner? Unxehuher? Whatever it is, I sound like I have a hair ball in my throat when I try to pronounce it. In any case, I think we'll be focusing a bit more on keeping our little monkey from falling off the bed.

To BYU, With Love

Yesterday I read an article in The Chronicle of Higher Education that really got me thinking. The article was about how Miami University of Ohio sends Valentine's Day cards every year to its "merger" couples. A merger couple is one formed by the marriage of two alumni or current students. Based on informal surveys, Miami believes they have one of the highest percentages of alumni marrying alumni which is about 14% of all graduates.

So of course I had to consider my own alma mater BYU. Brent and I met there and are both alumnus. My parents are, two of my sisters and their spouses are, as far as I know almost all of my BYU roommates married BYU boys. I was excited when Chelsea and Tyler came to mind (she was a Cougar and he was a Ute) but then Brent reminded me he subsequently got his Master's at BYU. Okay, so they're out. The SNCP? I'm pretty sure they're ALL BYU alumni (although I couldn't remember for sure about Sara). In fact, the vast majority of us--three of the five couples--came from the same ward. Then I tried digging deeper and thought through my mission companions. There was one, Gaylynn whose spouse went elsewhere. Other than her, if they went to BYU, their spouses did too.

Hmmmm, let's take a look at my current ward... I was able to think of two others: Scott and Mindy attended BYU, but their spouses went elsewhere. Brent's side of the family is a bit more diverse. His parents are both BYU alumni but his brother and sister married non-BYU people. Yet again, Brent reminded me that if we expand our definition of BYU to include all campuses, not just Provo but Hawaii and Idaho, then that knocks out his brother who's wife went to BYU Hawaii. So technically that leaves just his sister. Now that I think of it, my sister-in-law did her undergrad at BYU but both she and my brother ended up at the University of Iowa where they met. That brings my total to roughly half a dozen. If I thought really hard I'm sure I could come up with a couple dozen but after racking my brains for a while it was clear BYU people tend to marry BYU people. Even Ashleigh and Ryan from So You Think You Can Dance both attended BYU!

Miami believes part of the reason they have such a high merger rate is because of their relatively remote location which fosters a close-knit campus. Hmmmm, so what's BYU's excuse? Provo is anything but remote and I don't know if you could accurately measure raging RM hormones of a chaste people who are more than ready to tie the knot. But I still think that has something to do with it. Perhaps this is a bit controversial, but I also think BYU students purposely look for other BYU students to marry. Let's face it, there's a prestige to attending BYU and it's nice to have that accomplishment and experience in common. And nowhere on the face of the earth are you as likely to find someone who shares your values and beliefs than BYU. Not that it doesn't happen... In fact, many of the merger couples I know didn't meet at BYU; that connection was made later.

My POINT is that Miami seems to think they have one of the highest "merger" rates of all schools. Based on my informal survey of the BYU folks I know, the Cougars absolutely have to have a much, much higher rate than 14% (Brent's guess is 60%). It's actually harder for me to think of an exception to the merger rule than someone who follows the rule! Another point of this article is that couples are much more likely to give back to the university than couples where only one person attended Miami--a difference of 25% to 15%. Interestingly enough, the BYU alumni office called Brent and I just a couple of weeks ago asking for a donation which we were happy to make. We have fond memories of the place and will continue to support the institution.

So the only question remaining is: where's my Valentine's Day card from BYU???

Boston Children's Museum

Yesterday at work my Internet suddenly went down. Then my Office Outlook. When I asked if anyone else was having problems, they not only concurred but they pointed out the phones were knocked out as well. The server blew and rumor has it the server blew pretty badly. They sent us home for the day which coincided perfectly with when Brent was coming downtown to take Liesel to the Children's Museum. They both had the day off and Brent needed to use the free tickets he'd received from work which were set to expire yesterday. I was happy to discover I would get to join them. Whitney also took Liesel to the Children's Museum over the summer and I'd only heard about the Bubble Room and other novelties second-hand.

Brent dropped us off near the entrance and then went to park the car in the metered parking which is free on holidays in the city of Boston. As would be expected, it was a madhouse. Even Liesel who is one to jump in the fray was taken aback by all the kids and excitement. We waited for Brent who called my cell and asked us to come to the admissions desk. I guess he looked like a kidnapper or something because without a child in tow he was being asked to turn in his ID. When they saw he was with a very pregnant woman and toddler they let him go. I had to laugh because as I've mentioned, Brent looks like a kid himself. It's good to know they're careful though.

We saw the famed Bubble Room, played in the Construction Zone, and experienced the Boston Black section. Sadly Liesel wasn't interested in going to the African Queen Beauty Salon to try our hand at styling black hair. In the middle of the museum they have this amazing sculpture/ climbing structure which goes as high as all 3 floors. When I first saw it I nearly had a heart attack. As I looked more closely, I realized it was well-designed to have a very low slope on each piece and to intertwine in such a way that it's amazingly safe. Liesel loved climbing on the lower pieces but her favorite part of the museum? The drinking fountain. No lie, there was a drinking fountain with a step stool just her height and she screamed when we finally pulled her away from it. This just added to my parenting theory of not buying toys. Kids are entertained by some of the plainest things in their world, why not put that toy money towards her 529 plan?

I discovered a few things about the Children's Museum: 1- It's where all the pregnant women are. I was definitely NOT alone in that respect. 2- The uniform of choice for mothers is yoga pants, lots of makeup and a Louis Vitton bag. 3- Kids don't ask to have a turn. They just walk up to you and stare until you get the picture. I'm thinking of employing this method at work just for fun. I wonder how much faster Product Support would be at resolving one of my issues if I stood outside their cube and just stared at them... I bet it would be much faster than it is right now! I'm really glad I got to go with Brent and Liesel. One of the greatest joys of my life is seeing them together having fun.

Daddy's Little Helper

There are some wedding gifts which have lasting power like the $5 torn in half (one for each of us) with instructions that as long as we're together we'll always have a little something. That one we framed and has been a conversation piece in our living room ever since. Others don't make it to your 3-month anniversary like the George Foreman grill given to us with our names marked in permanent marker right on the box (rendering it nonreturnable to ANY store) along with the comment it was given to them for their wedding and they didn't want it. That one I believe we gave to Goodwill about 2 seconds after we returned to Boston from the California reception.

Anyway, just after our blessed nuptials, we got a salad spinner with one of the many Crate & Barrel gift cards and Brent has made good use of it ever since. He always shreds up the lettuce, washes it, spins it dry and then carefully bags it in a Ziplock. It's ready for salads and sandwiches in the week to come. Lately Liesel has taken an interest in the process so Brent decided to show her the ropes. They're so cute working on it together I had to capture it on video:

He even showed her how to do the actual "spinning" part. She's happy to let him take over when he needs to make quick progress because he can get it spinning so fast. That may or may not be the Super Bowl in the background... I really couldn't say.

Blue Devils

For our last date pre-baby Brent and I decided to go to a Duke game when they were in town playing Boston College. I've always admired Coach K and I love how the players are true student-athletes... in that order too. Brent who is a basketball fanatic was excited to go to a live game of a ranked team (that would be Duke, not BC) so we got the tickets and a last-minute babysitter. It was perfect. I was happy to be going out in public wearing sweats and one of Brent's t-shirts and fitting in with the crowd.

When we walked in to find out seats I looked down at the court and was shocked to see Coach K, RIGHT in front of me with his players. Technically our seats could be considered nose-bleeds but the arena is so small they still felt like good seats. BC's colors are gold and crimson so it felt like Duke was playing Gryffindor. I think I've been spoiled by BYU's cheeleaders and the Cougarettes because the BC cheerleaders and dance squad were a little underwhelming. If you took away the student sections on both ends of the court you might think there were actually more Duke fans there.

Duke was on top for the whole game at one point leading by 11 points but that closed in the final minutes of the game to just 2 and the last shot was an attempt to close the 3-point lead they had. BC missed the shot though. Oddly enough, Brent who gives a verbal thrashing to our tv at home during games only quietly whispered to me when he disagreed with a call. I was more vocal than he was! We had a great time at our first Duke game and were so happy we decided to get out together. Much as I love hanging out at home with the latest from our Netflix queue, it's good to shake things up every now and again.

Top 10 Reasons I Love Brent Even More When I'm Pregnant

10. He's just as excited, if not more than I, to add another person to our family. He always reminds me what a miracle it is that I'm pregnant which I too often forget when the aches and pains overshadow my day to day life.

9. He'll sacrifice pillows, sheets, blankets and mattress real estate for my comfort. When I roll around restlessly in the middle of the night he immediately does whatever he can to help me get back to sleep.

8. When he puts his hands on my belly the warmth makes the baby move and kick. It's like she knows it's her dad!

7. When I'm bawling about how my ancestors (who were in the Martin and Willie Handcart companies) are probably so ashamed at what a wimp I am, he strokes my hair and gently repeats, "It's okay, this is just the hormones."

6. He gets down on his knees to tie my shoes for me. When it's snowing he does a double knot just to make sure they won't come loose.

5. Somehow he manages to make me believe that he truly thinks I am beautiful even though I'm about as attractive as a rack of yard tools on sale at Sears.

4. When he gets himself a snack, even if I tell him I'm not hungry, he always gets extra just in case I change my mind.

3. Although not a trained masseuse, he will rub my shoulders and back to help work out the kinks. Sometimes his own hands cramp up when he's working on a particularly bad knot. Whenever he hugs me, he squeezes me enough to try and pop my back and loosen everything up.

2. While most men would roll their eyes, he's keenly interested in what clothes I plan to dress our girls in. Normally he hates the mall but if I'm at Gymboree picking out an outfit he's right there to give his two cents.

1. Last night he made me THE tastiest omelet in the world with cheese, tomatoes and mushrooms for dinner. Even though nothing sounded good, it just hit the spot. Oh my YUMMY!

Overcoming

American Heritage 100 is a required class at BYU. If you are a transfer student, no other history class will substitute. You HAVE to take their version of American history. I did horribly when I took it and got my lowest grade ever of a C-. This was also the semester I returned to school after my mission. My formerly BFF roommate suddenly hated me, my job in the Financial Aid Office was temporarily closed and I found myself making ends meet on the swing shift as a janitor in the Wilkinson Center. My dates were lackluster to say the least and nothing seemed to be going right. I had the hardest time trying to mesh the lessons learned from the mission with my living reality which left me depressed and quietly crying myself to sleep pretty much every night.

That poor grade has always been a black mark on my academic career not to mention my transcript. It's always nagged at me and made me feel like perhaps I didn't belong at a prestigious institution like BYU. A couple of years ago my company had a presentation on their tuition reimbursement plan and I got to hear from coworkers who were taking classes part-time from places like the Harvard extension center and even pastry school. The course didn't even have to be related to our job! It just had to be from an accredited university and part of a degree or certificate program. If my company would foot the bill, I thought, why not try retaking that blasted American Heritage course? I had nothing to lose... not even the tuition. So I signed up for it.

I don't know what the hell I was thinking (pardon my French). I signed up for this colossally difficult course (the independent study version is much, much harder than the one offered on campus) while I was working full-time, chasing a toddler and pregnant. To truly succeed in this course I had to read the chapter, re-read it, fully complete the study guide which was many pages long and then write 2-5 essays after a brief multiple choice quiz. I could do one, maybe two chapters a week and I was fried by the time I was done. One benefit of taking it at this time in my life was being IN Boston. Now I really appreciate why it's called "The Cradle of Liberty" from the Boston Tea Party to the Model Constitution to Shay's Rebellion. I learned SO much! Now come the accolades for my sweet so sweet husband.

To help me out, he would take responsibility for Liesel as soon as he was home from work. I shut myself in our bedroom to study and listened to him play with Liesel a couple of rooms away. Brent tirelessly quizzed me to prepare for my lesson submissions and let me summarize chapters to him so I could ingrain them in my own mind. On Thursdays, I stayed at work late to work on my study guides and lesson submissions. The submissions were particularly arduous and each one took a minimum of two hours to complete. When my parents and sister were here over Christmas, Brent cheerfully entertained them while I hunkered down to complete the last of my lesson submissions. He never complained... not once. When I whined about how hard it was, he expressed nothing but faith in me and kept urging me on. He was truly a gem.

The comprehensive final for the course was worth 40% of my grade. I had to review lessons that I'd studied months before when I wasn't plagued with morning sickness and the innate memory loss that comes with pregnancy. Again, Brent quizzed me tirelessly and patiently corrected me. He gave me a hug and a kiss when I went to take the final at the local Sylvan Learning Center and told me I'd done everything I could do. He was right... the results of my final came in today and I got 97% with a 96% for the entire course. I aced it. And I've been grinning like an idiot ever since. Not only will we be able to get reimbursed for the money spent on the course, but I've proven to myself I CAN do it and I AM smart. That may sound ridiculous, but I truly believe some of the biggest obstacles we face are the ones we put in front of ourselves. I've just overcome this one and right now I'm feeling like I can accomplish just about anything.

Trapped

For some reason the little one cooking inside me favors my right ribs. Interestingly, Liesel loved lodging herself in my left ribs. With this one, I can't lay on my right side for very long because my ribs go from a tad uncomfortable to slightly painful to sharply painful as this baby just nudges herself further and further in there. Laying on my left side gets old though. Every now and again I'm able to prop pillows around my belly in such a way that I can comfortably lay on my right side but it's very, very, VERY rare. It's a welcomed relief when it happens though.

Last night was one of those times and I was blissfully sleeping. Much to my dismay, Brent rolled over to face me and let out a huge breath. Oh my, it was like smelling the inside of a rotting, dead goat. Moving takes an act of Congress for me so there I was, with my sweet husband, foul breath and the prospect of returning to my left side for the night. I tried nudging him and he obliged... for two minutes, he turned his head to the wall. Then turned his head towards me again and breathed a HUGE sigh. Awash in empty stomach stench, I just wanted to cry. Now I know how Captain Jack Sparrow felt when he faced the Kraken in At World's End. I had no other option but to make a 3-point turn back to my left side and drift back to sleep.

My dreams were beyond bizarre. I dreamed I went to a pawn shop and asked for a cheeseburger. This is strange for a couple of reasons: 1- One of my New Year's Resolutions is to give up fast food for the year. I barely eat any as it is, I've never been that fond of it and I always regret it when I do. 2- I've never actually been to a pawn shop but there I was arguing with the guy behind the counter that they had a cheeseburger and he just wasn't giving it to me. 3- When he insisted he didn't have one I told him I was just sure someone had pawned a partially eaten cheeseburger and I wanted it. WHY would I want that? Thankfully, I woke up at this point.

My undergraduate degree was in Psych and I made a very little foray into dream analysis but for the life of me I don't get this one. Suggestions? When I told Brent about what happened he vowed he was going to start sleeping on the guest bed because he feels too guilty taking any bit of sleep away from me. Awwwwe! He's so sweet!!!

Growing Pains

We did it! Today Brent boiled the stockpile of binkies and put them in storage to be pulled out at the appropriate time when our next girl is of age. It was rough... Liesel's been desperately asking for one and she didn't nap quite as long as she normally would have. In the car it was a challenge to listen to her fussing without just plugging her up. But it has to be done.

To soften the blow, we decided to take her to Build-A-Bear and make good use of the $25 gift card she received for Christmas. If you aren't familiar with Build-A-Bear, let me enlighten you. First you choose the animal (Liesel didn't seem to really care so I snagged the last bunny they had). Then you stuff it. At first the loud noise threw her but then she enjoyed pressing the pedal and she really loved watching the stuffing roll around in the machine:

You pick out a heart and give it a kiss:They sew it up for you and then you "bathe" and "fluff" it:
You pick out an outfit and dress it. Liesel loved this part. In the end, we went for the pink Red Sox outfit and Brent let me splurge on Sketcher shoes after seeing Liesel light up at spying them:

Then you fill out the birth certificate. One of Liesel's best buddies at daycare is Gabriella. Whenever the two are in the same proximity, they just gravitate towards each other. They love to run and squeal and "read" to each other. Their teachers tell me it's almost like they're gossiping when they go off together and have conversations just the two of them. In fact, Gabriella is the answer to about every third question she's asked these days (no kidding, in the video Brent asks her three questions and the answer to the third one is "Gabriella"). The funny thing is we were getting a Red Sox bunny and Gabriella's mother works for the Red Sox. How fitting!

To be honest, it was getting close to Liesel's bedtime and she was nearing meltdown mode... especially without a binkie. As we finished up she wanted nothing to do with "Beantown Bunny" but once we got home she begged for it as we put her down. I did the whole Build-A-Bear experience with Liesel when we went to Disneyland so I let Brent take the lead with this round. As I paid the balance, he encouraged me to sign up for the Build-A-Bear card so after a bazillion visits we can get a 10% discount. I'm excited to know he thought it was worth the experience to come back because I love the concept. I hope Liesel does too. Enough to forget about her binkie anyway.

Disclaimer

I've been hesitant to give Liesel raw fruit because I am allergic to it. Not all fruit, but the "sweet" versions like honeydew melon and cantaloupe--BLECH! I can eat the "citrus" versions with no problem so I feast on grapefruit and pineapple. For the most part, I can eat everything in between although it's just a few bites before I feel like my tongue has grown hair and my throat gets itchy. However, Liesel's really past the Gerber stage and trying to be a good mom, I want her to eat good stuff. I decided to see how she would do with fruit finger foods like raspberries and blueberries. She wasn't hot on the raspberries but she LOVED the blueberries. That's kind of a big word for her so I just dubbed them "berries" but even that seemed to be a bit much for her toddler vocabulary. She shortened it to "beer." On Saturday we did our weekend errands which include a trip to the grocery store. Now that her love of blueberries is firmly entrenched in her psyche, she caught one glimpse of them among the strawberries and blackberries and said, "Beer? Beer peese? Beer! BEER!!!" We got a few glances. For the record, we don't give our girl beer.

Liesel is growing in so many wonderful ways though. In spite of the small fortune I've invested in Gymboree clothing, here is her favorite outfit (no kidding, when left to her own devices she picks this out herself):

We're not sure why she likes to have a shoe only on one foot but that's usually how she ends up. Now, she KNOWS when people are complimenting her on how cute she is so she's at least marginally aware of her looks. Whenever I finish doing her hair she takes a good look at herself in the mirror and smiles (pigtails get the biggest reaction). She's into shoes which I thought would naturally lead into an interest in general fashion. To put it simply, she has a little vain streak in her. How she came up with this outfit is beyond me aside from the mostly nude part... she's just like her daddy and she runs hot. Maybe this is a big look in Asia?

A couple of weeks ago I was walking up some stairs with her. Liesel usually has a pretty good stream of chatter going so it took me a while to tune in to the fact she was saying, "two, fee, foa, five..." with every step. I was floored; she can count to ten! Well, mostly... she gets stuck on six and then she just repeats it over and over. Of course, she's a toddler and can't quite say "six" so she ends up sounding like she has Tourrette's. Aside from counting, Liesel also knows her ABC's up to G. When I asked her teachers at daycare if they had taught her that, they responded, "Yeah" in a tone that said, "what do you think we DO with her all day?" Good to know our hard-earned money is going to something useful!

They also tell us she is well-primed to be a big sister. When it's nap time she apparently goes around to all the kids on their several mats, says "night, night" and pats them on the head. They say Liesel herself doesn't want to go down, she just wants to check on everyone else. She's also taken to "mothering' one of the other kids in her class... to the point she will check her diaper to see if she's poopy. Liesel's starting to pull her own pants up which is a good sign she may be ready to start potty training. We'll see. She's clinging to her binkie for dear life and just when I determine I'm going to boil them and stow them away she either gets sick or, more recently, starts cutting her two year molars. I feel so bad for her, I just can't take away what seems to be her only comfort and at times my only sanity to keep her from crying. She's so cute when she asks for it too. Binkie? Then she sucks on her lower lip sort of like, "something's missing here, see?" Does anyone have any ideas on how I can wean her off of the binkie? I was hoping she'd be "sober" by the time our next little one arrives so there won't be binkie envy. I'm starting to worry...

Brent checked in on her one night and found her sleeping like this:

My side of the family will recognize this position as one my dad takes when he is on his laptop. Too funny... maybe she has some Nielsen in her after all!

I recently discovered this video which just put me under. Brent tells me it was shortly after Christmas and she had mysteriously found yet another can of Pringles. When he saw her with her hat, sucker and leg warmers clinging to the can he just had to get some video. I LOVE the attitude she gives him as he questions her about what she's doing:

One final note on Liesel's latest quirks. She doesn't watch TV but we found this YouTube clip of Beaker singing "Ode to Joy" and she will watch it over and over. If we switch it to any other video, even the one of Beaker singing Habanera, she shakes her head... that's not the one she wants. I finally downloaded it to my iTunes and once while we were in the car waiting for Brent I tried it out on the iPod. She looked like a midget teenager with the earbuds watching my iPod. They really grow up SO fast!