Aaaaaaand then my brain exploded.

As you may remember, if you have known me for any length of time since I birthed my son, we have sleep issues.  No.  He has sleep issues.  After my last post about it, I followed some of the advice I received.  First, I just ignored him when he got out of bed (we had a baby gate set up in the doorway, so he couldn't get out- Parent A or B would sit in a chair outside the door).  But the problem with this method was that once he realized I wouldn't play the game of putting him back into bed, he just played.  He sleeps with a floor fan going in his room.  It was really hard not to laugh at him when he would squat in front of the fan and yell to hear his voice get chopped up.  So, anyway, this was not helping him get to sleep. 
Next method was to put his mattress on the floor beside our bed with the hope that he would settle down to sleep if he was sleeping where everyone else was sleeping.  Ha.  Yeah right.  The new game was to climb onto the bed and jump all over Mom and Dad.  Again and again and again. 
So now, we still have him in our room, but we brought in the pack n play.  And that is his new bed.  He seems to be adjusting to sleeping in it okay for nap time, but you can just forget about bedtime.  We do our routine- the same every night- he's always yawning and rubbing his eyes during stories.  I know he's freaking tired.  But as soon as we close the last book, he jumps up and has a party.  He goes completely wild.  The end of story time is his cue to wake up and NEVER GO TO SLEEP.  In the past week and a half, the shortest length of time it has taken to get him to sleep has been maybe half an hour, which is definitely not typical.  Most nights, it takes an hour and a half.  Tonight, it took three hours.  THREE HOURS!!  And we don't just put him in his bed and leave him there.  One of us lays in our bed beside him, so he knows it's time to go to sleep.  But it's such a huge thing that happens every single night, and it's killing me!  But I just don't know what to do.  I can only hope that eventually he will just sleep already.  Because really, I got nothin'.

 

*sigh* I love that kid more than anything.  Even if he makes me crazy.  (Not a new picture, but still cute.)

So, we saw the twins again last Friday.  They're growing and their hearts are beating.  And according to the old wives tale about heart rates, we're having two girls.  But I also remember that Ben's heart rate was pretty high this early, but it went down further later on. 
I had my first appointment with my OB on Monday.  I will just say now that I love my OB.  She also did fertility treatments, and she had triplets.  So she doesn't take this multiples thing lightly.  I'm glad because I've been getting a little freaked out by all the potential complications that are more likely with each extra baby you're carrying.  She gave me a book, When You're Expecting Twins, Triplets, or Quads, and I'm really glad.  I guess I just had this idea that with twins, you're just a little more pregnant, and it would be a lot like a singleton pregnancy, but bigger.  I had this idea that you couldn't really do much about potential complications unless you're unlucky enough to have them.  And I'm sure some of that is true, but apparently there is a lot you can do to try and prevent bad things from happening.
Also, one of the things that's really stressed in this book is how much more weight you need to gain with extra babies and how quickly you need to gain it.  Now, I'm not on the small side.  I am a large milkshake.  And even taking that into account, I'm supposed to gain 20-25 lbs by week 20.  I am now 9weeks and several days, and I have gained one pound so far.  I don't even know how I'm going to do this, y'all.  Now, I totally buy into this business of the weight gain.  Studies show a strong correlation between the weight a mother of multiples gains during pregnancy and the babies' birth weights.  I would really like to be able to take my babies home as soon as possible after they're born, you know?  But I just don't know how I'm going to be able to eat that much.  And then there's all the water to drink and the milk.  They advise drinking a quart of whole milk a day.  A quart!  That's a meal in itself!  Well, at least the Zofran seems to be working well enough to allow me to eat and cook.  That is a definite plus there. 

I'm sure I'll do it all somehow.  I'm just overwhelmed.  I'm freaked out about Chris leaving so soon.  We have no more weekends together.  Well, just one, but I don't really count it because he has to use the entire time getting ready for Annual Training.  And then we get to have a few days together before he's mobilized.  There's just not enough time.  I need him.  I'm worried about what to do when I get so big I can hardly move, and it will just be me and Ben.  How will I take care of him?  How will I give him the snuggles and kisses and loves he'll need from his mama?  And more practically, how will I change his diapers when I can't pick him up or get up off the floor once down there?  I've gotten plenty of offers for help, but I can't really call someone every time Ben needs a diaper change.  I have more worries than I have answers.   I hope I figure it out before I get there.

Uuuugggghhhhhh....

You know, I'm trying really hard to be a good sport about this morning sickness thing, but it just really really sucks.  I could at least tolerate it if I could just feel better after I hurl.  But of course not!  The focus of much of my day is to not puke.  And sometimes I lose it by the end of the day, and it's just bile.  I try to keep something in my stomach all the time because it's worse when I'm hungry, but it doesn't seem to be working so well anymore.  The dr's office offered me Zofran if it gets too unbearable, but I've read that it mostly just keeps you from throwing up, but you still feel sick.  I don't know.  Maybe I should try it.  Sometimes my nausea is debilitating.  If I move, I will puke.  I know.  Whine, whine, whine.  Well, I guess I can because it's my blog.  So there.

In preparation for Operation: Outnumber Mommy Overkill, we traded in my husband's truck for a minivan.  I'm not really one of those people who gets hung up about what kind of car I drive, so I'm not worried about looking like a soccer mom or anything.  Anyone who thinks that will see my slovenly butt get out of the car and perhaps change their mind.  Or not.  I don't care. 

But now I'm obsessed with the possibility that I may somehow land in a body of water somewhere and not be able to get all of my children out of the car.  I told this to my husband, and his response was, "Just don't drive into a lake or anything."  But what if a semi rams into me on a bridge?!  So I'm going to have to get one of these to be able to cut seat belts and break a window if I ever need to.  But two infants and a toddler?!  The idea of not being able to save one (or more) of them scares the pee pee out of me.  I know I'm being a little ridiculous here, but it still seriously freaks me out.  Luckily you don't cross quite as many long bridges over rivers in southern Idaho as you do in the northern part. 
Although, just a few years ago, there were five kids going to school (this happened in my husband's home town), and they slid on an icy road into a pond.  They all drowned.  I didn't even know these children, but I couldn't even read that article just now without crying, I'm still sad about it.  I also find it hard not to cry when I drive by that pond.  I can't imagine what it must be like for their parents.  So maybe that has something to do with why I'm so freaked out about my kids drowning in a car and me not being able to do anything about it.  It's just so horrible and tragic.
Yes, I know.  I'm crazy. 

Man, now I feel like Debbie Downer.

Not for the faint of heart

Or something.  This is a disclaimer that I will be talking about a yeast infection (mine) and associated parts (the vajayjay- also mine).  So if you are offended/completely grossed out by this, you might just want to skip this post.

Some people get a lovely pregnancy glow or shiny beautiful hair.  And then when other ladies get pregnant, they get yeast infections.  I guess I'm one of those ladies this time around.  I thought that maybe it was an allergic reaction to the new progesterone suppositories I started using.  (ahem, they do not go in the butt- in case you were wondering) But as time when on, and it got worse and worse, I realized the beast for what it was. 
I did some googling and enough reputable (although I admit, I'm using the term somewhat loosely) sources told me that it was okay to use Monistat.  So I get the seven day because it takes longer, so it will seriously just knock the crap out of that yeast, right?  I wasn't relishing the idea of having to stick progesterone and Monistat up the hooha for a week, but really, I don't like sticking something up there every day anyway and I have to, so it's moot. 
Did they do something to Monistat?  Change it in some way?  Because it burned like 300 flaming demon suns of evil doom.  I have never wished I could completely remove my vagina until that moment in my life.  I ran around the house doing the pee pee dance and basically dying.  I thought maybe there was a reaction with the progesterone and cursed my brain for not thinking of the possibility BEFORE I took it until I found some forum full of people talking about how horribly Monistat burned them.  Thank you, internet, for reassuring me that I hadn't ruined my vagina forever.  It was really hard to imagine otherwise at the time.  I called my OB, and they prescribed some diflucan.  I didn't want to go that route originally, but my yeast infection was so so so bad at this point that I just couldn't stand the idea of waiting for yogurt and probiotics to work.  It takes time, yo. 
So I was bragging at Jen at Maybe If You Just Relax that I hadn't puked in days(!)  I guess you must know what happened then.  Vomiting and lots of it.  (Wow, I am just the purest source of disgusting topics today, aren't I?  Thank you, babies!)  And queasiness that won't go away now.  I want to eat, but everything looks just gross.  I've been able to eat french fries and chicken sandwiches.  I'm doing somewhat well with salty.  I know I won't mind eating healthfully someday when I can actually eat again.  I made this casserole last night with broccoli, carrots, celery, brown rice, and cheese that I would normally just drool over.  I was able to eat it last night, but when I heated some leftovers for Ben today, I gagged.  It's sad because the concept tastes so good to non-morning sickness Bekah.  Anything with cheese on it tastes so good.  But not right now. :(  So sad. 
Okay, no more complaining about being sick (at least for this post).  I just didn't get hit with it very bad with Ben.  But it does make me feel better that the babies must be doing all right in there.  I'm anxious about my next ultrasound.  I'd be pretty upset if we lost one and didn't know it. 
I really should take some pictures of Ben to show you.  He's getting pretty big.  He's getting better at communicating, even though there's still plenty he tries to tell us that we just don't understand.  He's such a fun kid.  He's started to play pretend more.  He has a plush snake he sleeps with that everyone kisses every night (and a puppy and a koala).  Chris will make the snake hiss and tickle Ben's face with its tongue.  Well yesterday, Ben brings a tower of single mega blocks over to me and hisses while he tickles my face with it.  I just love that kid.  And yes, I think he's amazing and awesome and adorable and the best.  Because he's my baby.  Holy crap, what am I going to do with three babies?

It's like the song that never ends.

You know what's ironic about the title of my last post?  I still don't think my mom has even read it yet. 

I need to clean my house with an urgency.  And yet.  Here I sit.  Not doing anything urgently even though I should be.  I hate cleaning anyway, and moving too much upsets my stomach at the moment.  So yeah, it's like that.  I'm sure I'll get off my butt and do something about it today, though.  Ben keeps pulling can openers off the counter in the kitchen.  You know what really sucks?  That he can pull anything off the counter in the kitchen.  Man, it is really annoying.  It's my fault.  I'm supposed to keep the counters clear, right?  *grumble grumble*
Let's talk about Ben's sleep habits.  I know how boring it must be, but it's an all encompassing endeavor over here.  Before I started working at that temp job, Chris and I decided it was time to Get Serious about having Ben sleep on his own.  We put a chair outside of his door and after his bedtime routine, we kissed him, said good night, and put him in his bed.  Chris sat outside of his door until he fell asleep.  It actually went really well.  He got upset at first, but in a pretty short period of time, he fell asleep.  We had some ups and downs, but we managed to get it to where he was going to bed by himself consistently every night.  When he woke up in the night, it was usually pretty easy to settle him. 
Until, randomly, he started waking up in the middle of the night and not going back to sleep for three or four hours.  I was working by then, so we pretty much died.  We put him to bed later, and it stopped the extreme night waking, but I don't know if he gets enough sleep like this.  And now, he has decided that going to sleep is for suckers and he'd rather get out of bed, so I have to escort him back to his bed.  It's a game for him, but I don't know how to make it stop.  It usually takes an hour and a half to two hours to get him to go to sleep this way, and there's a lot of frustration on my part.  I don't like being grumpy and impatient with my kid, you know?
I guess I'll probably have to start from square one again, but even further from where we started in the first place.  We're doing kind of a modified version of The Baby Whisperer's Gradual Withdrawal, but now that he is actually able to sleep on his own, I don't know if that will work.  The problem seems to be that he gets up and wants me to take him back to his bed.  Now, I will lead him back to his bed, and just say something like, "It's time for night night, go to sleep, " and then go back to my chair, not engaging with him in any interesting way.  But for him, he thinks it's fun that when he gets out of bed, I get out of my chair and take him back to bed.  He just thinks that's hilarious, and he will do it again and again ad nauseum.  So, really, I'm just playing his game with him and helping him to prolong the inevitable of sleep.  So now, I have to develop a new strategy.  I know we wouldn't really have this problem if he was in a crib, but it's just not an option.  He has never ever ever been a crib sleeper.  And when I realized this, I took down the crib and got him a toddler bed.  Anyway, anyone else have this kind of problem?  Any suggestions?  Even though it takes so long to get him to sleep, it has been so blissful to be able to sleep in my own bed all night, next to my husband even!
Blah.  I guess I should go clean my house.  I've been putting it off for long enough today, I suppose. 

Hi Mom

You're probably going to be the only one to read this, since it's been several months since I've posted anything here. 

Some big things have been happening around here.  I got a temp job.  I got fired from said temp job after two weeks.  Because I had one mild disagreement with my trainer.  I didn't even get rude!  But she told my boss I was being unprofessional, and that was that.  The week before The Incident my trainer was talking to me about the long term opportunity of the position.  I told her I wasn't interested at all in being hired on.  When I interviewed at the temp agency, I specifically requested no temp to hire placements.  My husband's being deployed soon (oh yeah, that's another thing), and I have no interest in doing the single working mom thing while he's gone.  It's hard enough being a single stay at home mom.  (Also, Mom, I don't know how the heck you managed working and taking care of six kids.  Honestly, I will never get over how insane that must have been for you.) 
So, anyway, when my boss was doing the firing, she said that the position was going to be around for a long time, and then said she couldn't have someone that couldn't get along with her lead person.  Okay, remember, it was a MILD disagreement.  I don't even dislike the chick at all.  We have a lot in common.  So, whatever.  Keywords, I think, are "position is going to be around for a long time".  I think they just didn't want to put all that time into training me when I was going to leave and then they'd have to get someone else.  Whatever.  I didn't like working full time in downtown Boise anyway.  It added an extra unpaid two hours in traffic during which my head exploded daily.  I realize that Boise traffic isn't as bad as most other metropolitan areas where they actually have people and all.  I do remember Atlanta being much worse, and I would probably kill myself if I lived in Provo and worked in Salt Lake City like my brother used to do.  Traffic still makes me angry, though. 
Yes, the husband is being deployed again.  It will be in the next few months or so for a year.  I'm worried about several things- of course, I'm worried about his safety.  I worry enough about him just riding his motorcycle to work.  I'm also worried about how I'll take care of the house and Ben while he's gone.  I envy naturally organized people.  I desperately need routines and organization, and that's just not my bag.  I mean, it took me long enough to get a solid bedtime routine for Ben, and even then it pales in comparison to the "recommended" bedtime routines from books.  It's just going to take practice and lots of discipline, I guess.  I'm also worried about being pregnant and giving birth while he's gone.  Uh, yeah.  About that.
We don't have that awesome fertility coverage on our insurance that we had when I got pregnant with Ben.  But when my period came back, we both felt like we should try for another kid.  After my second cycle, we decided not to leave it up to chance because we still had no idea what the condition of of our fertility was, and we just didn't have time with him leaving so soon.  So I went to the fertility clinic again.  Luckily, our insurance covered the meds and the initial bloodwork, but all the procedures and ultrasounds had to come out of pocket.  And that part hurt, let me tell you.  It was money that we just didn't have.  So we decided we'd just do one IUI, and if it didn't work, well, there's always next year when he comes home. 
Our fertility, by the way, is in the exact same state as before.  My body still hasn't gotten the memo about ovulating, and Chris' swimmers are still wonky shaped.  But you know what?  It worked.  I'm growing a baby.  Actually, I'm growing two babies.  My mind is still blown.  It took so many months of IUIs to get pregnant with Ben, and this time?  Once.  And we get to have twins.  I can't believe it!  But it's true.  Chris and I saw their tiny little hearts pumping away.  Of course, the unthinkable could technically still happen and we could lose one or both.  But at this point, the chances are way slim.  I would post the ultrasound picture, but I haven't scanned it yet.  We'll go back in two weeks for another peek at the babies at 9 weeks.  But as of now, their heartbeats are strong, and they're measuring perfectly. 
My morning sickness has been crazy bad this time around.  Some days I can't keep anything but water down.  Although there are some days that I don't puke at all, but even then I'm queasy all day.  But how the heck can I even complain?  I'm so freaking lucky! 
When I was trying to get pregnant the first time, I went to a lot of infertility message boards for support.  I saw a lot of women with primary infertility criticizing others with secondary infertility.  Saying they didn't have it as bad.  And you know what?  They didn't.  Primary infertility is worse.  I was instantly at peace with the idea that this one IUI might not work.  I'm sure I would have cried if it hadn't, but I still have my son to cuddle and kiss and love and mother.  Dealing with infertility was so different the first time around.  And I'll never forget how awful it was. 
So if you know me on facebook, and you're wondering why I'm not shouting the news from the rooftops, it's because of primary infertility.  I have friends on there that have been trying for years and years and years- tried all the treatments they could afford- to no avail.  Granted, I'm not very close to some of them, but I still don't want to be that pregnancy announcement that makes their day feel a little bit worse.  Most of them don't know my whole story with infertility, and I don't want to cheapen by saying, "Hi, I'm pregnant, but it's okay because I dealt with infertility too!"  Somehow, I don't think that will make them feel any better. 
But I will be happy and giddy and talking about the babies off of facebook, which is probably the reason I'm posting this now.  I'm still awfully worried about how I'm going to manage two infants and a two and a half year old with my husband overseas, but I guess we'll cross that bridge when we get there.

I spend most early mornings curled up around Benji with my feet hanging off the end of his toddler bed.  He wraps my hair around his fingers and twists it around and around to soothe himself back to sleep.  Sleep is much different now than how it used to be.  I've successfully managed to night wean Ben, but he still requires my presence to get back to sleep.  He loves to have company in that little bed.  For a while, Chris was able to get him to sleep, and he slept well for my mother in law while I was in the hospital.  Since then, he has decided that I'm the only one who will get him to sleep.  I've decided that I don't mind this too much.  We've made progress, and this is good.  I'm sure we'll keep making progress, however slow.  That's all that matters.

I've started my gardening efforts of 2010.  Well, sort of.  I haven't actually tried to grow anything yet.  The frost risk in my area isn't quite gone yet.  Last weekend, my brother and his family came to visit from Utah, and they helped me with some yard work.  Like scooping dog poop and filling in holes my lab has dug (hey, thanks, guys!).  We also dug out all the dirt and weeds from one garden bed, and filled it with some deliciously wonderful soil for my future plants.  Uh, delicious to said plants.  I didn't taste it, or anything...  I think I'm just going to start this year with one bed, and if all goes well (meaning, I don't kill everything), then I'll do the other garden bed next year, too.  I'm planning on doing a square foot garden.  I've had the book since we lived in the trailer.  Chris got it for me as a gift because I really really wanted a garden, but our yard was so tiny.  I never did anything with it because our yard was still too tiny for a garden and two big dogs.
But this year, I came across this site, and decided to give gardening a shot.  I'm! so! excited!
But before I can plant anything, we have to put a fence up around my garden beds to keep the dogs out.  To do that, we also have to cut down the apple tree.  Before you go lamenting my apple tree, I will tell you that it has been very poorly kept.  It probably hasn't been pruned in five to ten years, so there are a lot of branches that shouldn't be there.  It also hasn't been thinned properly through the years, so there are a lot of branches that have been weighed down and broken by the fruit.
I'll also throw in this disclaimer- I don't know anything about growing apple trees other than what I just told you.  The plum tree, on the other hand, can still be saved from its previous neglect.  It really just needs a good pruning this fall.  I thinned the plums out last year, and we had a fair harvest from it.  Those plums were yummy. 
Anyway, when I say that *we* have to cut down the apple tree, and *we* have to put up a fence around the garden beds, what I really mean is that Chris has to do it.  I would try, but I would do everything wrong and then Chris would have to redo it anyway.  Except, I probably would not try to cut down the tree.  I would most certainly destroy property accidentally.  And Chris won't be able to do it for a couple more weeks.  So I'll be cooling my heels on the gardening front for a bit.  But I may plant some seeds anyway.  They probably won't sprout to be big enough for my dogs to bother them until Chris can put up the fence anyway. 

Absenteeism

I haven't felt like blogging in a long time.  Or I would think about things to write and just never get around to it.  They're always the same excuses with me, I tell ya.  There gets to be a point when so much has happened that I could never remember it all to tell you.  And well, I'm sure it's not all interesting enough to relay anyway. 
I think the biggest reason I stopped blogging for so long is that my depression took a sharp turn for the worse after I returned from my visit to Georgia.  I went off my prozac while I was visiting to see how I'd do.  I did well because I was on vacation.  Yeah, that figures.  When I came back and the reality of daily life set back in, I went back on it.  And as inadequate as the drug was before, it was completely ineffectual when I started it again.  My mood quickly rolled downhill.  I am still amazed at how awful and horrible I felt after such a short period of time.  My thoughts flew uncontrolled into dark areas of melancholy and languished there unchecked.  I knew if I didn't find a way to stop it, the rational part of my brain would eventually shut down and surrender itself.  I have too much to lose. 
I do see a therapist, but the medical doctor treating me was my Ob/Gyn.  I had to wait three weeks to see her to talk about changing my medication.  Those three weeks were agonizing, but I clung to my hope that when that time came, I would be offered some sort of respite.  She told me my symptoms were beyond her scope, and I really needed to see a psychiatrist.  I can't really fault her for that, and I appreciated honesty.  However, the wait for a psychiatrist was another two and a half to three weeks.  I couldn't wait that long. 
In my desperation for help, I checked myself into the hospital.  I was scared.  I've had depression for most of my life, but I've never been in a psychiatric ward.  I had images in my head that there would be psychotic, schizophrenic, involuntarily jerking people who foamed at the mouth surrounding me as we all settled down for the night in padded cells.  And thinking of that now makes me laugh, heartily.  There are probably places that are like that.  But not the place I went to.  It was a short term facility designed for people like me that need emergency mental health care and can stay for 3 days to 2 weeks while they get back on their feet again.
Because I felt ashamed of my inability to hold it all together, I somehow thought that would translate into how I was treated there- as though I had done something wrong.  I was, of course, treated only with respect and kindness by all the staff and most of the other patients there, too.  A nurse even went out and bought heads of cabbage, so I could use the leaves as compresses on my sorely engorged boobs (OMG, they were hurting so bad!).  I really pushed myself to go to all the groups that were offered and to try to make a plan of how to change things when I got home.  I actually enjoyed my time at the hospital, but I needed to get home.  I didn't see Ben the whole time I was there, and it killed me!  I was put on a different medication, and I was able to go home after a three day stay. 
I'm glad that I went.  I'm still waiting for the full effect of my new medication, but it seems to be kicking in a little after a week now.  Everything is still hard.  I have to make myself do things, so I don't fall back into the old routine that made my depression worse.  They're silly things like getting out of bed, eating, putting on clothes.  Simple things, I know, but not so easy when you're at your lowest point. 
I'm so lucky, though.  These things are easier when you have a loving, supportive family.  Chris was with me through the admission into the hospital, and he came to see me every day I was there.  He took time to talk to me every time I called him.  He took great care of Ben that first night I was gone.  My mother in law took him for the next few days.  I was so grateful that she did that for us.  She has been over to my house several times since then, just helping me to adjust and to get things done around the house.  My sisters in law have helped, too.  Like I said, I'm lucky. 
There's much more to say.  Hopefully, I'll have a bit of time to post some more soon.

To sleep: perchance to dream...

I'm home, home at last!
I stayed up until 1:30 am the night before we caught our 8:20 flight on Thursday.  Ben does this thing where we sits in the suitcase and pulls all the clothes out while I'm trying to fill it.  You know, because he's a baby, and it's fun.  So I have to pack when he's not around.  I was very very tired the next day, and Ben was, too. 
Our first flight went off without a hitch.  And I'll just say now that I am so very grateful to TSA for allowing families with strollers to cut in line.  We wouldn't have made it to our flight on time otherwise.  I was traveling with my sister in law, Velvet, and her two little ones.  She also stayed up until 1:30 am the night before to pack.  Nonetheless, we were a cheerful group.  We were headed home!  We had a two and a half hour layover in Dallas.  We were dreading it, but it went by surprisingly fast with the help of the most awesome airport play area ever!  On our way to catch our 12:25, we heard that our gate had changed, and we needed to get to a completely different concourse.  DFW is pretty huge, yo.  We made it at 12:08.  Hooray!  But wait, they weren't yet boarding, and the man and woman at the counter ignored us when we went to get tags for our strollers. 
We thought maybe it was delayed, so we just sat and waited.  Fast forward 15 minutes, and I see two lines of people at the counter.  Hooray!  We must be boarding!  I go over to the counter, and see that the flight information on the board has changed.  El Paso?  Huh?  "What happened to the SLC flight?" I asked.  Gone.  It left already.  Wh-wh-what?  We've been sitting here waiting for boarding to start!  Apparently they boarded everybody that was there at precisely 11:55, and shut the doors.  The lines of people at the counter consist of angry travelers who were supposed to be on that flight, just like us. 
We spent the next several hours trying to get answers or a least a freaking meal voucher (for now, we had to wait for a 9:20 pm flight- MUCH to our chagrin) to no avail.  I was told that we simply didn't hear the final boarding call- when we were sitting a merely twenty feet away, in view of the counter at the gate.  We had come in on a connecting flight, so their staff knew we were in the airport.  Why weren't our names called?  I've submitted a complaint to American Airlines, and I hope to receive a favorable reply. 
What we went through that day was outrageous.  A complete and utter lack of customer service.  I will never fly with them again.  We spent twelve hours in an airport with three small children through no fault of our own and without any compassion from the airline for our situation.  Luckily, our kids did really well.
The next day I caught a flight back home to Idaho.  I'm so happy to be home.  I've missed my husband, and I've missed my house.  Oh, I have missed my bed so much.  

I'm in GA and have been for a couple of weeks now.  It's always weird visiting my hometown.  There are so many memories, and it was so long ago (well, relative to the length of my life so far).  Sometimes I remember things as though they happened to someone else.  I have a lot of regrets about the decisions I made.  But I'm also really happy with the way things ultimately turned out.  I guess if my present is where my past landed me, I could have done so much worse.  
I like coming back, though.  I like to see how much has changed.  And obviously, I like visiting my family.  That's probably my favorite part.  I only wish that Chris could have come, too.  He pretty much never gets to come with me because of work and/or school.  Suck. 
It would be nice to take a road trip across the country as a family, but Ben is so not ready for that.  We would have to stop too much, and that would annoy the both of us.  When we drive to places, we don't like to stop until we get to our destination.  It works pretty well that we're both like that, but it doesn't work well with kids.  At all.  So, it will be quite some time.  Well, especially since Chris is getting deployed again anyway.  Double suck.

We had my father's funeral the day after I flew into GA.  I wasn't originally planning on singing.  One of my brothers and my two sisters have sung at most of the funerals that have happened in our family in the past 6 years.  We decided at the last minute to sing some songs.  I'm glad we did.  The four of us sang the same hymn we sang at my sister, Sarah's, funeral- Lead, Kindly Light.  Then Eve and I sang Blackbird and a song that she wrote about my dad several months ago before he died.  We want to record it, and I'll post it if we manage to do it.  It was a good service, though.  I really felt closure, and the eulogizer even managed to elicit some compassion out of me for my old man. 

Finally!

I would normally be sleeping right now, but I got up to build a fire, so Chris wouldn't have to before he went to work.  But Ben is asleep, and I can post.  I'm really sleepy, though.  My body isn't made to function before 8 at the earliest.  Well, not when I have a kid that refuses to go to sleep until midnight or later.  And even then, he wakes up a lot if I'm not in bed with him.  I've kind of just resigned myself to the fact that this is just the way things are.  It won't last forever, so I should just be patient.  Sometimes it's really hard to be patient.
I'm gearing up to go out of town again.  I'll be in GA with my family there for three! weeks!  I'm pretty excited about it.  I am a little grumpy about leaving my house for so long right after I got back from a two week trip to Utah, but it's worth it.  I usually only get to go out there once a year.  And I'm also supposed to sing at my dad's funeral with my brother and sister, but I just caught my second cold in as many weeks, so we'll see how my voice sounds when Saturday rolls around.  Apparently, it also makes me form sentences with too many conjunctions.
How is it that I can think of things to write on my blog all day long only to have none of it come to mind when I'm actually sitting here typing.  And I know some might tell me to write it down, but I pick my battles around here.  If the cub sees his mama with a pen and paper, well, he just needs to have it.
I finished our taxes yesterday.  Hooray!  But because we're claiming the new homebuyer credit, we have to paper file, which kind of sucks, but it's worth it.  Side note: Target makes generic cherry cough drops to compete with Luden's, and they are just as good.  Actually, I really don't know that they could be considered as anything but candy.  Nothing soothes a sore throat like some delicious candy cherry drops is what I always say.  Anyway, taxes.  They are done.  The year that we don't overpay on our taxes will be the year that I hate to file.  But it will probably also mean that our house is paid off and we'll both be done with school.  So I guess that would be pretty nice. 
I've decided that if I'm going to have an etsy shop, I need to put real hours into it if I actually want to to become a supplement to our income.  Chris has reservations as to whether I'll actually make money doing it, and I really hope that I can.  I have some designs floating around in my head, but I have no pattern making experience, so I'm hoping I don't ruin any fabric while I experiment.  Because I hate to waste fabric.  Really, I hate wasting anything that costs money.  So stay tuned for the someday when I will actually start an etsy shop, I guess.  But of course, that will be after I get back from GA.  Poor Chris.  I think he might starve to death while I'm gone.  Man cannot live on ramen alone.  It won't keep him from trying, though.

The Walmart here has put all of a woman's menstrual needs in one place.  You can buy pads, tampons, woman targeted pain relievers, and Dove chocolate all from the same section of shelves.  It made me laugh.
Speaking of pads (that segue just wrote itself, people),  have you heard about the new iPad?  I can't decide if it's awesome or not.  Although, I think if I were to buy such a thing, I would purchase one of it's PC based competitors.  Not that we'll be buying one in the next century.  We have plenty of computers per capita in this house.  (Sorry Chris)  But last night, I was thinking about how cool it would be to have a small device that could access the music on our network and sing me to sleep.  Because then I wouldn't have to have the foresight to divine what exactly I'm going to want to listen to later in order to put those musics on my phone.  I'm also hesitant to buy an mp3 player because my phone plays music.  But my phone's (which was not my first choice for a phone, but we got them for a penny! each on amazon) music player has horrible awful organization.  I can't play an album in sequential order.  I get to listen to it in whatever jumbled order the phone decides to play it.  It's not set on any kind of shuffle or random.  It's just stupid.  But I just can't bring myself to purchase an mp3 player.  If I could use one in my car, I might.  But I can't use an FM transmitter because those plug into your cigarette lighter, and mine doesn't work.  I have a feeling that it would cost more than it's worth to fix that.  Eventually, someday, when I get a new car, none of this will matter (or maybe, just the cigarette lighter part won't matter).  But right now, I plan on driving my Subaru for ever and ever until it dies.  I like not having a car payment.
Wow, this post has been one long ramble.  Sorry about that.  I guess that's what happens when I've gotten negligible amounts of sleep and try to communicate.

I've been avoiding posting on my blog because I knew when I did, I'd have to post about my dad.  I haven't really had the best relationship with my dad ever, really, but I thought I had finally come to be at peace with the way things were and accept them.  Then he died a few weeks ago.  My initial thought was that I'd never have to feel disappointed again because he could never let me down now.  I felt like I could finally forgive him for good.  But that initial feeling wasn't cemented.  I've gone back and forth and up and down.  I've talked with my brothers and sisters and mom, and we all have different feelings and similar feelings and have just been trying to help each understand our feelings.  I think we all feel guilty to some extent for not feeling worse about his death than we do.  At least, I know I do.  But I even waver back and forth as to how guilty I feel.  Sometimes I don't feel that way at all.
I went down to Utah to visit my brother for the last two weeks while Chris had a training course for the Army down there.  While I was down there, I had a realization hit me that I know some of my siblings have already had (heck, maybe all of them have).  I don't know why, but the thought chain had just never occurred to me.  My dad chose to leave when he did.  He came to the hospital for my birth because my mom told him he had to (not to say he didn't enjoy it; he found the c-section to be quite interesting).  Then he went home and packed his things, so he could be out of there by the time my mom's parents got there.  They didn't like him, so he figured he'd get out before then.
I can't speak for everyone, but for Chris and me, the day our son was born was amazing.  Nothing can compare to the magic that I felt when my child came into this world.  How could my father leave his family on such a day?  I've continued to think about it, and the train of thought has gone further, but I don't want to talk about it on here yet.  It just really hurts too much.  And as betrayed as I feel by my father, I still don't want to speak too poorly of the dead.  He was my father, and I always loved him unconditionally for it.  It feels fake to accept condolences for his death, though.  I'm not hurt by his death; I was hurt by his life.  I have to find a way to forgive him and at least accept the choices he made in his life, even if I can never understand them.

Firelight

Our house still has its original electric furnace.  Blech.  That means it costs us an arm and a leg to use it.  We found that out the hard way.  Chris and I don't like to be cold.  We hates it.  And because we are self indulgent, that means our furnace has always been set on 71 or 72 in the winter.  Because we also like lounging around in our underwear.  We're way spoiled, obviously.  So our power bill for December was absolutely outrageous and somewhat crippling, really, and now we've had to change the way things are meant to be. 
Luckily for us, our house came with a wood stove.  It's a smallish old thing and it's a bit drafty, but it appears to actually work well enough to keep our entire house warm.  We were thinking about getting a new one, but I think we've nixed that plan.  We were also thinking about getting a new furnace, but that was dismissed as well.  We are determined not to go farther into debt. 
So I've been learning how to build a fire in the wood stove.  I've had limited experience trying to build them in my in laws' wood stove, but I've always failed.  I've also pretty much failed in building lasting, hot fires in our little stove- until today, my friends, until today.  I woke up too late to revive the fire Chris built this morning.  I tried, and I'm actually a bit decent at fire revival (but let's face it, it's pretty easy), but there just weren't enough live coals left.  And then I built a fire that I had to fight a bit to get going, but eventually, it was beautiful.  I'm so proud of myself, folks.  It took a while for it to start radiating heat into the rest of the house, but right now it's comfortable enough that I could be in just my underwear if I wanted to be.  But, uh, don't worry 'cuz I'm not. 
My husband and I sat down yesterday to look at our finances and make a plan for the next couple of years.  First off, it was really apparent how much less we make without me working.  I realize that what I do at home in caring for our kid is valuable, but I still feel guilty about not contributing to our income.  I'm not sure I'll ever stop feeling guilty until I find some way to add to our bank account through my own efforts.  Chris doesn't feel the same way as I do, though.
The process of looking ahead and making plans was really upsetting for me.  Chris already talked about it on his blog, so I guess I can say something here.  He's *probably* (but not certainly) going to be deployed again sometime later this year.  I've done pretty well about not dwelling on it, but we had to talk about it last night, and I'm just really messed up about it.  I hate it so much when he's gone.  And this time I'll have Ben, and and just wish we could all be together.  We've been trying to look at the positives like the extra pay that will be coming and how much we'll be able to save, but to be honest, the money just isn't worth it to me.  I just wish he could stay home with us.  But time will probably go even faster than it did last time he was deployed.  We were thinking that we'd record Chris reading a bunch of books on video, so Ben can see him every day.  I want him to be able to recognize his Dad when he comes back.  Any other ideas on what we could do to keep them close during the deployment?

I've got to wrap this up, but I don't want to end on such a crappy note.  My title reminded me of this SNL short.  It makes me laugh so much.

The Ghost of Christmas Trash

That is actually a real title in my husband's family on Christmas.  Santa is the person who hands out the presents from under the tree, and The Ghost of Christmas Trash is the person with the trash bag for all the wrapping paper, obviously.  It started a few years ago when my husband put a big black trash bag over his body and declared himself to be the ghost of Christmas trash.  Everyone thought it was pretty funny except for his grandmother who exclaimed, "The child!", in reference to my young brother in law who was 9 at the time.  She was afraid he would be influenced to put a bag on his head and suffocate.  It's still a joke, of course.
I hope everyone's Christmas was wonderful and all you expected.  We had a great Christmas.  I managed to finish all my projects except for one, so I'm pretty happy about that.  And I, of course, forgot to get pictures of them.  I'll have to request pictures from their new found owners.  I received some very nice gifts which are also practical.  I love to get practical things.  I believe in owning fun

Blech.  Half of my post just got eaten, and it makes me grumpy.  I'll just have to finish it later.  Sorry, folks.

Happy Christmas Time

When I was growing up, I remember my mom making Christmas candies and giving out plates of them to friends and neighbors.  I don't really know how often she did it.  It could have been every year or maybe just a few.  But it happened enough for me to remember, so I'll call it a tradition.  I've always wanted to do Christmas candies, but never have until now.  And so I did.  Yay!  The end.

Okay, so I'm having trouble thinking about something good to write for you.  For one, I really did make cookies and candies, and if you know what's good for you, you'll make these right now.  I also made truffles, but I wasn't super happy with them.  I'm a truffle snob.  Ben tasted a bit of everything I made because I'm a terrible mother.  But he was pretty happy about it. 
Truth be told, I was hoping that it would make me feel more ready for Christmas, and it so didn't.  I do this to myself every year, don't I?  You think I would just buy all my Christmas gifts like a normal person, but I like making things for people.  It's just that I have this affair with procrastination (my husband's totally in on it, too btw), and the little munchkin that demands my constant attention doesn't necessarily help either.  He is fascinated by whatever it is I have in my hand, whether it's yarn or fabric.  I do, however, have those times to myself when he goes to the sitter, but those times have thus far been lacking in productivity for various reasons.  I can feel my anxiety bubbling up.  Will I be ready for Christmas?  Will I be able to get all that I had planned done?  What if I don't?  What if I grow a hunchback and move into a church to ring the bell and fall in love with a young gypsy woman named Esmerelda?  What if, what if, what if?! 
I know that my therapist would ask me what would happen if everything didn't get done.  And I would say that nothing would happen, at least nothing bad.  So why am I so stressed?  I guess if I'm going to set expectations for myself, I shouldn't set them so high.  That doesn't really keep me from feeling like a failure now, though.  I'm still working on my projects, though.  Hopefully I'll finish.  I have four more days of Ben's being at the sitter before Christmas, which gives me 16 hours of child free work intensive project time.  I can do it, I can do it!
Gosh, I'm so whiney.  Some things just never change, heh.  Okay, annoying pity party over.  It's been snowy for the past couple days, and we're supposed to have more here and there throughout the week.  It makes me really wish that Ben could walk, so he could play in the snow.  I mean, I guess he could, but it's pretty cold to be crawling around in the snow.  He's getting really close to walking, though.  He's actually starting to show interest in it, which was lacking even a week ago, it seems.  He'll take a few steps in short spaces to get to something else.  It's exciting, and he's really excited about it, too.  I have a question for you other moms out there who have been doing this for longer than I have.  Is there every a time when you're not just completely interested in every little thing your kid does?  Is it the novelty of having a child that makes me excited about everything he does, or is it because it's him who's doing it?  Because I love him and he's a part of me and I'll always feel like he is even after he grows up, gets himself a wife and moves to Houston (purely hypothetical; I'm pretty sure the world will end before that happens)?  Actually, though, Ben's training to become a chef.

Is he supposed to be a mom?

I forgot to post this before, but it makes me laugh so much.  I keep seeing this ad all over facebook, and I can't figure out why they used this guy's face other than to be really funny.

I was trained to do that with peanut butter.

I had four hours all to myself yesterday, and it was blissful.  I ran errands, did dishes, vacuumed, and went over our budget without having to worry about Ben needing anything from me.  Even though I was still doing things that weren't necessarily fun to do, I still felt refreshed.  And when I brought Ben home, I was happy to spend a couple of hours solely devoted to playing with him and soaking in his big happy smiles.  Yes, this is going to work out really well for us.

Here is one of the diapers I made for Ben.

 

 

It is very hard to get good pictures of it while he's wearing it.  If it looks really bulky, that's because it is at the moment.  It has several inserts in it for extra absorbency for bedtime.  When I'm able to make some wool soakers, those will probably be better for nighttime pee soakage.  They fit fairly trim during the day when he doesn't need all the extra padding.  But I won't even be able to finish making all these diapers until after Christmas, I'm sure, so I'm still doing a mix of cloth and disposables right now.  And you know?  Cloth really isn't hard to do.  And I really like that any rash he gets wearing disposables is gone within a day of using just cloth diapers.   And I also really like to sew and knit.  It just kind of works for me, I guess. 

You know how I posted about performance anxiety?  Well, you're about to see the closest I am probably ever going to get to singing in public by myself again (well, besides the errant karaoke every now and then).  We got a good Black Friday deal on a digital video camera, and I decided to record myself singing.  I figured I'd probably end up deleting it because I always end up hating how I sound in any recording.  But I watched it, and aside from my recurring ped lip and various strange faces, it actually didn't make me want to vomit.  So I'm sharing it with you because my blog audience is pretty small and mostly family and friends, and I don't have to look at you while you watch it (or don't watch it).  And if you have something bad to say about it, you can tell each other about it and not me!  There's a reason I'm not destined for American Idol, people.  And Simon Cowell's meanness is that reason!  Well, that and inadequate talent, lol.

The best part of this video is Ben trying to open the door in the background in the last minute.  That kid is so stinking cute.  As soon as we can get a video of him laughing hysterically, I promise to post it.  His laugh is so contagious and adorable, but I am pretty biased, I guess. 

I hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving, er, almost a week ago.  What the heck?  Really?  I swear, I spend all my time wondering where all my time has gone.  Apparently, I should manage my time better.  Easier said than done. 
My Thanksgiving was great.  I ate my turkey and mashed potatoes with my father in law's amazing gravy.  Everybody liked my pies, which always makes me happy.  I love making food that other people like to eat.  I also like making food that I like to eat.  We played Rock Band, and I sang a Journey song and an Allman Bros song.  Everybody sang at least once.  Well, I guess not everybody, but almost.  The dumb thing is, though, I got performance anxiety.  I always do, even in front of family.  I don't even care if I fail miserably in front of them, and we make a joke about it that lasts forever.  That already happens all the time.  Chris will never let me forget about the time I tripped on NOTHING and fell while we were dating six years ago.  And there was also the time that he called me and woke me up, and as I got up out of bed, I discovered that my legs were asleep.  I fell on my face, and the phone flew out of my hand.  I also made a bit of a screamy sound.  These two incidents were in the same time period, and every time I've forgotten about them, he inevitably reminds me. 
So, yes, performance anxiety.  I hate it.  I would love to feel confident enough to sing in front of people because I really do like to sing quite a bit.  And I'm pretty sure the whole "imagine everyone is in their underwear" thing wouldn't work for me because then I couldn't look at anyone!  I don't want to see a bunch of people in their underwear.  What if they have really apparent skid marks?  Ewwwwww. 
I sang a song with my brother at my grandfather's funeral.  We didn't know that song, but he and I were able to familiarize ourselves with it and practice a bit before we were supposed to sing it in front of everyone (my aunt was supposed to sing it, but she got sick right before and lost her voice.  Boo.).  So, we're singing, and it's really wonderful and I start feeling comfortable and I start into this really emotional part of the song, and I look down to find the next words to sing and I have no freaking idea where I'm supposed to be.  Thankfully, no one was there to hear us sing (my brother did not mess up because he is not a freak like me).  They were there to pay their respects to my awesome grandfather.  But it was like my subconscious was all, "Wait, what?  You think you can actually do this?  Okay.  Well how about THIS?!  You don't know what the words are do you?!  Mwahahahahahahahahahahahaha!"  To which I am all, "Screw you, subconscious.  Screw you."
In other news, I have found a sitter to take Ben to twice a week for several hours.  I'm really really excited about this.  I get to vacuum my house without having to hold Ben and having him still freak out because he is seriously distrustful of that machine.  It is not easy vacuuming while holding 23 lbs of freaking out.  And then, I also get to sew and knit and crochet and hopefully create an inventory to open up a shop on Etsy.  I've been wanting to do this for a while now.  But first, I have to finish Christmas projects.  I hope I can get them done.  Every time I pull out my yarn and needles while Ben is happily playing with his toys, he senses that I am about to be productive and seeks me out.  Which would be fine if he didn't want to play with what I'm holding and then protest loudly and violently when I don't allow him to.  So then the yarn and needles get put away and nobody gets to play with them.  *pout*  Because Mommy can't share, dang her.  I've even tried giving him a different skein of yarn, but it doesn't work.  He wants the one I'm using.  Every time.  So hopefully, I can jump start all these projects and finish them in the next three weeks (!).
I just realized that it's 3 am.  I woke up and 1, was not able to get back to sleep by 2, and told myself I'd have to go back to bed again by 3.  I'm tired of insomnia. 

Obviously what I need is a Thanksgiving turkey

It's five in the morning, people.  I woke up at two, and I have not been able to get back to sleep.  I hate it when this happens.  It doesn't really help that the whole time I'm trying to get back to sleep Ben is flopping around and turning sideways to put his little tooting pee butt in my face.  I love the kid, but really, no one likes it when farts (disgustingly warm and moist, I might add) are propelled into their face point blank.  Not even from their own spawn, I tell you.  I'll probably get pink eye now.
The problem is that I am tired, but I cannot sleep.  I believe there is a term associated with that.  I can't remember, but it is either zombification or insomnia.  Is it possible that I have become what I fear most?  No, not a cockroach, but I'm pretty scared of those, too (don't judge me- they're so icky!).  I meant a zombie.  I suppose you could call me a zombie in the sense that all mothers are.  100% walking dead all the time- now without brain cravings!  What kind of cruelty is it that as I get older, I require more sleep to function but am offered exponentially less than when I was a child?  I should have thought ahead and slept during the ages 13-18.  It would have been time better spent, I tell you what.
I'm getting excited about the holidays.  I've gotten just one present for Ben.  I'll probably get him one or two more, but he doesn't really know what it's about anyway.  I'm having trouble not giving that present to him, though.  It's this thing here, and I wonder if it will help him to learn how to walk.  Or at least give him more confidence that he actually will walk.  He knows what it's all about, but I think he's afraid of falling.  Which is kind of weird because he doesn't seem to be afraid of tumbling down the stairs face first or climbing into or onto anything and everything that can conceivably be climbed. 

He climbed into the dryer by himself while holding those two spools of thread (must have something in each hand, preferably similar objects).  Luckily, we don't actually make it a habit of leaving the dryer door open.  I was standing there doing laundry at the time of the incident.  And yes, that is a black eye he has from falling face first onto a toy.  I also have a picture on my phone of him with his hand on the doorknob trying to open the front door.  Also luckily, we're in the habit of keeping that thing locked.  It's only a matter of time before he figures out how to turn it.  

I digress.  Holidays.  I love them.  My husband does not share the same affection for them as I do, though.  He's such a grump.  I think that'll change as we have more kids and they get older, though.  I have such great Christmas memories from growing up.  I remember when I must have been three or four and I slept in the living room because I wanted to catch Santa.  And when I woke up on Christmas morning, I had wet myself.  Er, okay, so maybe that wasn't particularly the best example of a great Christmas memory, but it still gives me the warm fuzzies.  Not wet warm fuzzies, mind you.  I finally outgrew that, you'll be happy to know. 

I love love love Thanksgiving because I love love love food.  'Tis the season to be a glutton, that's what I always say.  Okay, I don't always say that.  Just occasionally, like right now.  My father in law makes a pretty incredible turkey gravy.  Seriously.  I could drink that stuff.  That coupled with my mother in law's mashed potatoes makes me never want to be anywhere else for Thanksgiving (but only because I don't ever have the money to buy plane tickets to GA during the holidays- I promise, Mom!).  I'm so excited for next week.  I'm drooling already.  But I'm totally buying a turkey breast to make for me and Chris.  How else will I be able to sleep between now and Thanksgiving?  Tryptophan, people. 

Baby butts, revisited

Remember how I was thinking about cloth diapering before Ben was born?  Well, it never happened, but I'm thinking about it again.  This business about diapering is a lot easier now that his poops aren't so, er, runny and the happenings are considerably less often than when he was exclusively breastfed.  So, I'm going to do it.  But I'm not going to buy those really expensive one size pocket diapers.  I'm going to make my own.  My mom suggested it to me right before Ben was born, and I was all, "Are you crazy?  People don't make their own cloth diapers!  Pshhhhh!"  And, uh yeah, like usual, my mom knew what she was talking about.  People do make their own cloth diapers, and they can be as simple as the old fashioned prefolds or as convenient as the pricey all in ones, which are basically washable .  Yeah, guess which ones I'll be making.  (I'll give you a hint- they will be the ones I can convince my husband to use.  Do you think that would involve more than one piece to the diaper?  Probably not.)  
Cloth diapers that people make can be just as insanely adorable as those mega expensive brand name clothies.  I will actually probably do a combination of fitteds (which will require separate covers) and all in ones (which the husband will most likely use the most).  I mostly just want an excuse to knit up some cute little wool pants for Ben to wear as covers.  I'm also putting a layer of bamboo velour to hug Ben's little butt.  Maybe I will also make myself some panties out of the velour because it just sounds like it would feel nice.
This renewed desire can be 100% attributed to the Relief Society Pres. in my new ward.  Apparently there are quite a few families in our ward that make and use cloth diapers.  She also knits, crochets, sews, quilts, and shares my birthday.  No wonder I like her so much.  If you didn't know already, Chris and I both have kind of extreme social anxiety when it comes to groups of people.  So church can be kind of a hard thing for us.  My admission is this: we just finally worked up the courage to go to our new ward a couple of Sundays ago.  Everyone has their own trials to deal with, right?  I just happened to meet someone who shares this one with me.  It's pretty easy to talk each other out of going to public social settings, but it's something we're working on.  Well, with church.  Everything else can just live without us.  Anyway, I really like my new ward.  They're super nice even though they probably mostly think we're inactive heathens, and they're probably afraid of offending us and turning us away from the church.  How would they know that we actually do have testimonies, and we're just scared of people?  Gosh, that just sounds so dumb to put out there.  Dur, I'm askeered of people, yall.  But it's true.  I have been for a long time. 
On a completely different subject, check out this video my husband sent me today. 
 
 I love a capella groups- especially when they vocalize instrumental sounds.  I think it stems from family sing alongs in the car to "Witchy Woman" by the Eagles.  The guitar makes a neeeeer, neeeeer, neer-neer neeer sound.  If you listen to the song, you'll know what I mean. 

Obviously, I am such a slacker, but I'll make up for it, I promise!

No posts at in October?  Really?!  Anyway, a lot has been happening.  Ben's birthday and my fifth anniversary is coming up on Tuesday.  Ben will no longer be my infant, and I will have been married for half a decade.  I feel so old, lol.

 To celebrate Ben's birthday, we had a Halloween party.  Ben was a pirate. 

My sis-in-law Shiloh made the cakes (and threw the birthday party).  They were so cool.  She has such a great imagination.  She didn't have any pirates to put on the ships, so she made them ghost ships.  They were a big hit!
 
After the birthday party, I went trick or treating with my friend, J and her kids.  Ben and I just trailed along with his stroller.  We seriously have so much candy left over from handing out to the neighborhood kids.  Obviously, I overestimated our need for candy.  And then we all had a homemade doughnut feast at my house.  It was delicious.  Good times, people, good times.  I really enjoyed it.

So my trip to Montana was awesome!  Jamie and I have so much in common.  Ben was completely crazy about her 3 year old boy.  He followed him around a lot.  And he also attacked him a lot.

But what I really want to tell you about is the super cute bag that Jamie made while I was there.  Check out this sweetness.

And she also taught me how to make this bag.  I was so excited to make it when I got home!  I worked on knitting things the whole time I was there.  So check out the bag I made.

 

My bag is bigger than the bag Jamie made because I used the original specs in the pattern.  However, I have enough fabric to make another bag similar to mine in the smaller size.  Someday when I actually make it, I think I'll have a giveaway and give it away.  I'm moving up in the blogosphere, people.  If not in page hits, at least in desirable content.  Hooray!  I also hate the word blogosphere.  Just for the record.

I guess I should also tell you that I got my haircut, and I really really like it.  I got the Amelie haircut, but I really should not have asked for the bangs.  Shorter bangs just don't look right on me.  If I had a picture of them I would post it, but I don't  My cowlick won't allow my bangs to lay flat against my forehead.  Now really, what was I thinking?!  I don't think these pictures really do my haircut justice.

(Aaaaaaaaargh, I'm givin' ye tha stink eye!)

 

 (Oh hi, check out my premature waddle.  What the crap?!!!  I told you!  I'm getting old!)

Hmmmmm... I'm thinking the back needs a trim already...  Now if you'll excuse me, I have too much candy to eat, so I'd better get started.