Prudence is Prudent When You're Preggers

Oh, hi there. I'm coming to you from our PC that I forgot about while our Maceewackeeshnoopywoopykins is still at the Apple doctors. I've got to blog quick before my throat starts to close up due to a Dell-induced anaphylactic shock. That or before I start saying "Hello, I'm a PC."

Something that has been on my mind lately:

I really don't like the words "preggers" or "preggo." The other night while trying to fall asleep I tried to decide which of the two words I disliked more. An answer never came, just heavy slumber accompanied by a dream that Go opened up his plastic surgery practice office where I had an art studio built onto it so that I could paint people and their new bodies post-op as part of a package deal. While I think I might be onto something big, BYU would be very disappointed in me. No flesh colored leotards in that dream. Anywho, I don't like using those two words. Too cutsie-wootsie. Nor do I like the term "expecting," like "I heard you were expecting," said by that polite friend who's known it for weeks now but has waited until she is absolutely positive that you've got a little person in there and not 18,000 grilled cheese sandwiches. It always makes me want to reply with a snarky "Expecting what?" Also, saying "expecting" seems so Victorian, like I need to reply with a hushed "Why yes, Prudence, I am indeed expecting but please do not breathe a word of it to Mister Reynolds. He'd fall right off of his steed whilst on his fox hunt, as I haven't yet gathered the courage to tell him. I'm waiting until the time is just right, which I think shall be tonight, right after I take off my wig and am brushing through my matted tendrils with my pewter comb. You know the one--with the mother of pearl inlays? Yes, that shall be the perfect moment. So if you would kindly keep this ghastly secret discreet, I would deeply appreciate it. Prudence dear, would you be so kind as to pass the grilled cheese sandwiches? Oh yes, do take another before you pass the platter this way. I quite agree with your sentiments towards these delightful sandwiches. I ought not have any more American cheese for as long as I live but I can't quite seem to consume enough! It must be because I'm...expecting? Tee-hee! Tee-hee!" On the flip side, saying "knocked up" is a little too irreverent, even for me. (Big strides being made here.) And just saying "I'm pregnant," sounds clinical and almost gross for some reason. I've decided that I really just like saying "Yes, I've got a baby in my tummy."

Betrayal and then Redemption

On this, Thanksgiving Day, I am grateful for our Apple Care plan. For the last couple of days our beautiful Mac has constantly been getting overheated and shutting down. In almost 8 years of being giddy, happy Apple owners of two perfectly healthy Macs, this is the first problem we've encountered. I couldn't help feel like I was at a middle school dance and the boy I like keeps asking other girls to dance, but when I found out that there was 2 weeks left on our warranty, making it possible to get our computer fixed free of charge, I felt like even though he has been asking others girls to dance all night, he has been saving the last dance for me all along. And it's a really long song, like Hotel California. Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle. Round and round.

See you in 5-7 business days.

Yo! Yo! Yo! Thanxgiving, Yo!

We had a deee-lightful early Thanksgiving this weekend. Good family, good friends, good food. I really don't need much else.

The turkey and it's gravy was successful. Not too salty at all but I didn't just follow one recipe, I kind of combined like 20. It was delish. Everything was.

I was kind of disappointed we didn't all hold hands, go around the table and say what we were grateful for. It probably got overlooked as we were all quite mesmerized by Go, who while dishing up his dinner, serenaded us with Salt 'n Peppa's None of Your Business.

If we had gotten the chance though, I would have said something like this: "I am grateful for a steady and strong husband, one who works hard, loves me and our girls and never ceases to both amaze and entertain me with his ability to remember every word from "The Mormon Rap."

Salt of the Earth

I would venture to say that Go and I's relationship was first built upon a large mound of salt.With him, when it comes to food, everything must be salty. All meat must be marinated for him to truly enjoy it. His favorite foods: green olives, kipper snacks, anchovies, capers, popcorn, pretzels, salty cheeses, salty crackers, salt and vinegar chips and just a good old plain spoon full of salt never disappoints. Just kidding but the salty list continues. I mean, I really like salty food myself; I was known to sneak a nibble of dried play dough back in my day, but he hardly likes anything unless it's salty.

If you've been a reader of this blog for awhile I've already established that I was a creep dog and had my eye on him a couple of years before I officially met him, right? "Art History Boy." Is this ringing any bells? Well, after finally officially meeting him and discovering that he and I lived on the same street, I made it my mission to get him to ask me out on a date. This was tricky for me, as I had also made it a rule never to be The Pursuer, but always be The Pursued. I turned my nose up towards aggressive females! As if! So uncharacteristically, I went out on a limb, made a cake with homemade chocolate frosting, called his apartment and invited him and his room mate Ethan over for dessert, which was also uncharacteristic of me--to appear the slightest bit domestic. I've come a long way, people. So even though I was uncomfortable, I made that cake, the frosting, the phone call, they accepted and came over. With trembling hands, I cut the three of us big, fat slices. We all sat around at my ghetto mustard yellow kitchen table upon my mustard yellow plastic chairs and took our first bites. Splat! Out came Ethan's bit right back onto his plate. Splat! Out came mine as well. All I could taste was salt. And lots of it. "What did you do?" Ethan exclaimed through a pinched face. I jumped up, went over to my recipes and discovered I had put in like 4 times the amount of salt the frosting recipe called for. Mortified, I turned around and looked at Go. Surely I had just blown the mission. I had for sure scared the guy off with my salt frosting. But his plate was completely empty. He licked his fork and asked for seconds.
"Are you serious? Pff. Shut up." (I really have a way with men, don't I? I should write a book.)
"No, really. That was good. Is that ok if I have some more?"
"But, it's so salty! Here. I'll scrape the frosting off for you."
"No way! This frosting's good," he said.
Ethan looked at him like he was crazy. He did not ask for seconds and I don't blame him at all. Go finished off his second helping in minutes flat. Didn't even flinch. He might have even asked for thirds. He complemented me on my baking and ate every morsel, salt frosting and all. And thus began our love affair that was built upon a mound of salt.

As is tradition, this weekend we are celebrating Thanksgiving a week early with (half of) our old med school buddies who will be making the drive all the way from Pittsburgh. I can hardly wait. (Jacksons, you will be sorely missed.) Since we're hosting that means that we, of course, are cooking the turkey. This will be our first turkey ever. Go's reaction to this: "Hey, see if you can find a good recipe for a salt brine! We really need to brine it first. "

Ringgers, I hope a little salt won't scare you off. My Thanksgiving issue of Bon Appetit magazine arrived and suggests a salt rub instead of a brine...Go couldn't be more pleased.

Stumped

What do I get these two clowns for Christmas?

As shown here, last year's gift to John was a hit.

I'd like to keep that momentum going.

Things that come to mind off the top of my head for him this year:

Anti-convulsion medication

A gift certificate for a tatoo on his other pec--maybe of Niagara Falls?

Somehow fill him with false hope,
convincing him that he'll forge ahead
as the first Garlock boy to graduate college
with a full head of hair.

Skateboard lessons

A bottle of Creep Sauce

Possibilities for Joseph:

A shirt with buttons

A shirt with sleeves

Actual swim trunks to wear to the beach instead of undies

Some children to scare

Raise this dog from the dead.

Or maybe I should do a combined gift. Some bubble bath, perhaps.

Or maybe a good old fashioned family hair-chop-off session.

Or matching Hefner jackets for old times sake.

Me? I won't be needing any more hair spray this year, thanks.
Shockingly, I still have enough leftover from 1991.

Mama Don't Take My Kodachrome Away

Tis the season for family picture taking.
I've been busy.

Click here to see with what.

YAHTZEE!

If you are having a particularly blah day, may I suggest a feathered headband?

...and if you are 5 1/2 months pregnant and
have already started retaining massive amounts of water--
especially in your face, haven't attended to the grooming of your eyebrows as well as you should
and the same could be said concerning your leg hairs,
it makes for a very effective distraction from all of that.

Then Why Don't You Marry It?

Today May and I are going to a birthday party for a 1 year old who has lots of wild, crazy hair. Even though the invite said "No presents," her Mom isn't the boss of me.

I made these clips for her last night out of wool felt. I really love wool felt. It's a good thing I didn't discover wool felt until after I was married because Wool E. Felt would have really given Brandon Q. Reynolds a run for his money.

Very Sexy!

The day after Halloween, November 1st (yes, that really is the day after Halloween, Pennsylvania), I was grocery shopping at the Store-That-Must-Not-Be-Named and there was Christmas music playing over the loud speaker. It made my heart skip a beat...out of panic.

Do you know those people who are just good gift givers? Like they come up with the perfect item to give you--something you didn't even realize you wanted or needed but you totally end up wanting and needing it and it's perfect? I am not one of those people. I am very gift-giving-challenged. Sometimes I do ok but more often than not, I strike out big time. Let's review some of the more unfortunate gifts I have given my poor husband in our Christmas days of yore.

Compression Socks! Very sexy!














This Book! (he actually really wanted this but it was still a lame gift)

RAM!

Ties!
















A very fake memory foam pillow!











Salt in the wound! A book featuring something he desperately wants but I will never let him get!














A Nose Hair Trimmer!









But after seeing this, I realize I could have done much worse:

Sometimes I Get Positivity Confused with Sarcasm

Hey, you know what? It's super fun to only get 2 hours of sleep three nights in a row! I feel just great! I could run a marathon right now if my eyes would just stop jiggling back and forth.

And Now It's Time For a Break Down

Camie, my great friend here in Hershey is making me a quilt for our new baby. I would put a link to her blog but she doesn't have one because she's way to busy making my quilt to bother with blogging. I totally know how to pick my friends, don't I? She must like me a whole lot. So much so, that I got to tell her exactly what I wanted. Like, "Score!", right?

This is the inspiration for my requested quilt, which site it came from--I have totally forgotten, but from the minute I saw it, I loved it. And I'm not one to get excited over quilts because I don't quilt--I'm not precise enough, so I will never be able to be a quilter. Miss Cheapy Pants is very pleased about this.
The quilt that is being made for me will not have a yellow binding, but white. The colors of rectangles will be reds, pinks, oranges, yellows and greens. Because I'll be hanging this in the baby's room above her crib, I am basing the new nursery decor around it. You know--new baby, new room.

I will be using both cream and white (which were our wedding colors - I'm just wild and crazy like that) and will have pops of color here and there, like in the mobile I shall be constructing, a pillow for the glider I will be sewing and something festive on the wall I shall be whipping up. I figured since this time around I bought all the textiles in the room instead of making them, I needed to throw my own personal touch in there somewhere. And our baby will love me for it. Because newborns care about that kind of stuff. They just do, it's really weird. Just ask Go. He knows now. Because I keep telling him. And telling him. And telling him.

BEFORE (May's Nursery)

AFTER (New Baby's Nursery)

And yes, thank you, I AM aware that there's a hand full of months between November and March. Just ask Go. He will be able to tell you exactly how many. And tell you. And tell you. And tell you.

I'd Like to Bear My Testimony That I Know Tonsillectomies Are True

Usually when May is upstairs in her room down for her nap, I can hear her both breathing and then snoring all the way downstairs while I sit on the computer and eat my lunch/waste time.

Right now she's asleep. I cannot hear any breathing. I cannot hear any snoring. This is so bizarre.

Popsicles and PBS

See those beasts back there?

They're gone! Before surgery, her surgeon suggested that we have her breathe through a paper bag for a day just to help acclimate her to oxygen. Oh, he's a funny one.

Her breathing sounds great (which means significantly less like Darth Vader) and her voice sounds totally different (less "Godfather", more "Ruby" which is kind of like the mice from Cinderella.) It's really weird and it's only been an hour. Anyway, the procedure went well and May is recovering nicely.

Think of This Post As the Pickled Ginger That Comes With Your Sushi

It has come to my attention by the much-nicer-than-me man I live with that my previous post was negative and mean-spirited. I believe the word "caustic" was used as well. And I completely agree with him--I really do get a mean streak in me when I'm pregnant; I'm not going to deny it. And so to refresh all of our palettes, I'm going to share an uplifting experience with you I had at church today. Can you believe it? No sarcasm. No mocking of individuals. I promise. For reals.

A woman shared this bit of wisdom with us in RS today that seriously blew my mind. She has a son with autism and had really been struggling until she met with some consultants who helped her learn how to provide a more positive environment for not only her son with autism, but their whole family. She said she has also taken this philosophy and put it to use within her marriage, friends, extended family members, etc. And this is it:

For every negative comment spoken, there should be four positive comments. That is the rule of thumb she goes by: The Four-To-One ratio. Also, three things should be kept in mind with those positive comments: frequency, intensity, and duration. "Frequency" - self explanatory. "Intensity" - she gave this example: "How often do we get blue in the face after our child brings home an A paper? How often do we get blue in the face after our child tracks mud in the house? We should use the same intensity we'd use about mud with an A paper." "Duration" - how long your positive comment lasts.

You might be reading this and thinking "Duh." Not me. This bulldozed me over and suddenly it was like someone had washed the dirty grime off my mental window--it made perfect sense and it was presented in a way that was clear and easy. Giving praise is something I'm not good at--it doesn't come naturally for me. I don't give it very often, nor do I really need much of it. This is not the case with my husband. He was raised in a house with lots and lots of praise, thrives off of it and doesn't understand my indifference to receiving it. But when it comes to me not giving it, I think it's because of my fear of being insincere. I am suspicious of people who give constant praise of not being entirely truthful. But that's probably not the case at all (did you see that? I was seeing the good and being positive.) They are just probably more apt to see the positive sides of things than I am. I tend to see more of the bad than I see of the good, because the bad is usually a lot more funny and I like to be amused. But since this light bulb of mine was turned on today, I'm going to try to focus on seeing more of the good, especially within my family, thus being able to be completely sincere with my praise that I shall be giving and giving from henceforth.

Ah. See that? Minty fresh.

Dear Chick Who Tries To Talk To Me At Gymnastics,

Even though I would have rather been listening to music, knitting and watching my kid, the first week of class this session, I gave you a chance. I didn't break out my iPod and left my needles in my bag. Instead, I tried to be friendly and sat there and talked with you for an hour about the nightmares of potty training even though this is a conversation I try to avoid having--I've had it way too many times and frankly, it bores me to tears. But the real kicker was when you started telling me what a "bad child" your youngest daughter is...while she was right next to you. No wonder she's so disobedient. She's being told she is, so of course she's going to continue that pattern of behavior. It also made me extremely uncomfortable when you spanked her in front of me. It was a mild swat, but a swat nonetheless and I just don't care to witness it, especially when she received the overly-severe punishment for something so trivial as untying your shoes while you weren't looking. I guess you were too engrossed in your monologue about how awful she acts and why can't she just poop in the toilet for you? And maybe, just maybe, I'm going to venture to say that you're not really reading that parenting book you're toting around with you. I'm starting to think it's just a prop, like that chick I'd see around campus my freshman year of college who used to carry around a skate board with her but never actually rode it. The thing's wheels were pristine. Anyway, I wonder if that "book" of yours says anything in there about going a full 5 seconds without hollaring "Don't do that or I'll (enter empty threat here)!" I'm not claiming to be a perfect parent but it was all too much. So this week, as I sat next to you with my ear buds in, my music blasting and with knitting needles clicking, I realize I came off rude. But I'm not going to apologize for it. You make me uncomfortable and talking to you about boring stuff and watching your poor parenting skills is not how I want to spend that hour. And I'm not even going to be mad at you for making me turn up my volume full blast and ruining what's left of my abused ear drums just so I wouldn't have to hear you tell your poor daughter what a bad girl she is for an entire hour.

Good luck to you and may I suggest perhaps a different parenting book,
Annie Reynolds

Score!

When I was back at home during the summer, I was gifted by my Dad with a little $ for a maternity clothes item. "Go buy yourself something that makes you feel pretty," he said, which really meant "Go buy yourself something that doesn't make you feel fat." I have been hording away that $ until I could find things on sale to stretch my dollar because that's what Miss Cheapy Pants demand that I do. If I spend too much money on just a single item, she threatens to shave off just one eye brow while I sleep. So stretch I must.

Look what I got at Target today: all for $40!

And the best part is, these look way better on me than they do on these models. AND THAT NEVER HAPPENS.

Thanks, Dad!

(not maternity but it still works...and fine, this one looks better on the model)

My Kid's Tonsils Could Beat Up Your Kid's Tonsils

1. I often get words or phrases stuck in my head, like I hear them in my brain over and over again and just have the urge to say them over and over. Most of the time I supress it, but sometimes I give in but I usually stop myself after a couple of minutes because I start to realize I sound like Rain Man. The other day, the phrase was "tubal ligation." Before that, it was just "meow." Today's word: "Obama." But I have to say it like "Oooooo-BAMA!" It has nothing to do with how I feel politically or even the name of our new president--to me it's just a word that I can't stop thinking or saying. So much so, that I walked into my spin class today and yelled "Oooooo-BAMA!" and a bunch of people cheered, which really wasn't my point--I just had to say the word and get it out of my system so I could move on and teach my class. Oooooo-BAMA!

2. We had May's surgical consult for her tonsillectomy yesterday, which was with a surgeon Go had been working with last month. He took one look down May's throat and screamed in horror. After regaining his composure, he said "I don't know whether to call O.R. scheduling, 9-1-1 or Child Protective Services." He then proceeded to call people in to have them look at her tonsils, to which they all reacted basically the same way. After we left, he called Go and told him that May's tonsils were the biggest tonsils he had ever seen. And this guy has seen a lot of tonsils in his day--tens of thousands. Her surgery is next Tuesday. Though it's scary, I am looking forward to the possibility of her and I having some uninterrupted nights of sleep in the future (well, before March, anyway). Because her tonsils are such beasts, she has major sleep apnea. To give you an idea of how big her tonsils are, I tried to find an image online of big tonsils but May's bigger than all of them - the not only touch, but they rub together. The doctor wondered how it was that she could even breathe. He also said that he'd have to scrounge up a tractor trailer to haul her tonsils away after they were removed. Are you getting the picture? May's tonsils are huge.

3. I received a little gift in the mail from my Mama - our new baby's first outfit that's all her own. This may be the only UN-hand me down she will ever wear. So cute! And take out the blue and these are the colors of the baby's nursery after I get some time to work on it. (post to come!)


4. This picture below is two-fold.

1) A belly update for anyone who cares.
2) The scarf I finished for Ruby a couple of weeks ago. I got the knitting bug several years ago but it was a short lived phase. Around Conference time this year, I picked it back up because I wanted something to do and a nice girl in our ward had an instruction night so I got a little refresher. Anyway, I did a double seed knitting pattern for most of it, with ribbing on the ends. It was fun and my first try at something other than just knit, pearl, knit, pearl. It's just nice to have something to keep my hands busy when I'm at the doctor's office or watching the girls to gymnastics, etc. Yes, I totally knit in public. If I could get away with knitting at church, I would. May's is almost done and then it's on to one of my very own. I'm thinking cream colored because I use to have a very soft, very nice, cream colored scarf before and I loved it and I felt very grown up, which is rare for me, whenever I wore it. And then I wore it all around San Fransisco on our trip and something rusty dripped on it so I think I might just make one to replace it.
5. I'm very aware that this post was snooze-ville and I sincerly apologize. If you're actually still reading this very boring post, I just have one thing to say: Oooooo-BAMA!

And Then I Slapped Myself in the Face

As I walked into the voting booth this morning, while knowing I should be solemnly turning my mind to the Founding Fathers and those that gave their life for my freedom, I couldn't help but think of what an exciting day it must be for Rory Gilmore.

Chocolate Lovers, Unite!

Dear Fellow Chocolate Lover,

Hey! Are you already sick of your poor quality Halloween candy? Do you want some seriously good, high quality chocolate? Do you want to feel like a rock star while eating it? Do you want 10% off of this high quality rock star chocolate? Yes? Read on, friend.

Do you remember about a year and a half ago when we took the kids to New York and discovered Vosgues Haut-Chocolat and have been in love with it ever since? Since I am pregnant and focused on chocolate right now, I can get away with flippantly saying that it was the best day of my life.

Now every time we go to Vegas, we go to the Vosges store at the Forum shops, where we spend at least an hour feeling oh-so-posh, carefully reviewing all of the deliciously funky ingredients and try (very un-poshly) to weasel just one more sample out of the poor sucker behind the counter before resting on our final decisions. They always, always include a selection or two from their exotic truffles.

Last time I tried some from their Collezione Italiana Truffle collection - really, really good if you like both cheese and chocolate.




We've also tried Mo's Bacon Bar (chocolate covered bacon) and if you're a fan of the sweet/salty combination, I highly recommend it.





Guess what? I just received an email from the fabulous Paige over at Vosges Haut-Chocolat. And since I am pregnant and focused on chocolate right now, I can get away with flippantly saying that she is my new BFF.

She is offering 10% off all website purchases from November 1st to November 30th. At checkout, enter the promo code 2810WB1. She is not being flippant.

Click here to enter the visually stimulating and saliva inducing website of the very posh, very delicious Vosges Haut-Chocolat.

Peace, love, and chocolate,
Annie