Taken Just Now at the Bus Stop While Waiting For Ruby

Happenings and Going Ons Parts One and Two and The Tale of the Cross Dressing Electrician

Part One: Rollerskating with Ruby

The sound track for this event would be something from America's Weekly Top 40's circa 2002 with a not so subtle stomp, stomp, crash; stomp, stomp, crash in the background, overlayed with a lot of laughter. It took us over an hour to make it around the rink twice.

My oldest is a spaz. There's no way a around it. Though the Coordination Well is bone dry right now, I have hope for her in the future. Luckily, she can laugh at herself which makes up for any lack of physcial prowess in my book.

I knew if I got frustrated, she surely would so I channeled my Dad and his laid back teaching style and though she is no closer to successfully skating as she was when she stepped foot onto the rink for the first time, she didn't cry, she didn't give up and she kept a strong and steady stream of giggles. I admire her for this, as I get frustrated easily when I don't pick up something right away. Hey, college roomies. Remember when I got that hair cut that required using a round brush? And anyone remember a round brush sailing across the apartment, accompanied with mild curses, chucked by yours truly? Yep. And Dad. Remember the hissy I threw in Lake Powell when I was 11 when I couldn't get the hang of water skiing? Good times. No. GREAT times. So thinking she would be like her mother, I was surprised when she didn't dramatically fling herself on the floor of the roller rink and through buckets of tears declare herself unfit to skate.

Aftwards, I asked if she had fun. She took a long time responding, no doubt trying to come up with something diplomatic to say but decided on a "No, not really." Hm. Well, at least there were no tears.

Part Two: Olive's Blessing

I really can't believe I'm posting not only one but TWO fat-face pictures of myself, but I don't want it to go undocumented. Hopefully you'll be near an eye wash station when you view this. No? Then just simply sticking your face under cold running water will do just fine.

Our friend who was in the blessing circle said he peeked down at her and Olive was looking up and smiling. That's my girl.


You see my shoes? I got these over ten years ago back in high school and hadn't worn them in ages. But after some fresh-faced enjenues from the pages of a magizine whispered up to me that 6-inch wedges were back in Style's good graces, I was stoked. And I said wedges, not wedgies. I don't even want to think about what a 6-inch wedgie would feel like. "Let's bust these puppies out, " I said as I dusted off my shoes. Then I did The Running Man and just when I was about to make a smooth transition over to The Roger Rabbit, I realized what had just taken place. It was the first time I had put something of my own on that had come "back into style." After weeping a little, I realized that these weren't actually the first straw wedges I owned and was reminded of a story. My Straw Wedges Story. Come gather 'round, children.

Once upon a time, there was a young princess who bought some straw wedges. She was about a junior in high school. Earlier in the week, it was there in her chambers of the enchanted yellow-walled castle, that her ceiling fan stopped working. The king and queen of the yellow-walled castle beckoned a lowly electrician to come and fix the ceiling fan straight away. Now unbeknownst to the king, queen and princess, this humbly electrician was in fact, an evil electrician. In the midst of the fan repair, the electrician reached down, stole the princess's new straw wedges and stuffed them into his tool box. With a great deal of naivete, the king, queen paid and thanked the electrician for his good work and bid him farewell. When the princess returned to her chambers, she discovered her straw wedges missing! Oh no! It was then decided that the evil electrician was indeed either a clepto with a shoe fetish or a drag queen in need of something fabulous for 'da clubs that weekend. Either way, the princess wanted to give the evil electrician a 6 inch wedgie for stealing her 6 inch wedges but then thought better of it, for fear he'd probably enjoy it. The end.

This is How I Go Green

I saw this bag on etsy, was inspired to rip it off and make it myself for a new diaper bag.
And so I am.
That is, if my baby ever decides she'd rather chill in her bouncy seat
instead of snuggling her mama all hours of the day and night.

For anyone disappointed that this had nothing to do with improving the environment, I apologize. Earth Day is over. We can all stop using the extremely over-used statement of "going green" now. Unless you're referring your newborn's bowel movement leaking onto your outfit or the onset of a sudden feeling of nausea. Which, interestingly enough, the two often go hand in hand. Instead of saying "going green", I think we should say "trying to be less of a jerk to the earth." Yah, it's more of a mouthful but way less catchy and irritating.

Oh, I love the earth as much as the next girl. Actually, maybe more than the next girl due to my doing all sorts of things to be less of a jerk to the earth for years, what with my neo-hippyism in high school, monetary donations to Greenpeace however small they were, my fierce devotion to cutting 6-pack plastic rings so seagulls and baby seals don't end up wearing them as necklaces and turning off lights and not running the water while I brush my teeth and supporting companies who don't test on animals and wishing my car was hybrid and reusing all sorts of old things in new ways but seriously, if I hear "going green" one more time, I'm going to scream. And that adds to sound pollution and we all know that any type of pollution is, like, a major downer, man.

Week 6

She really is as squishy as she looks.

...and my favorite out of the bunch:

Olive is doing well. She's definitely the most unpredictable baby I've ever had--every night and every day is different than the one before--but if she gets all of her Prilosec in, and I don't eat any onions or citrus (sooooo sad for me: oranges are my favorite thing to eat, period), she's a happy camper. She's extremely expressive, interested in everything and everyone around her, loves to watch TV and have baths, falls asleep looking at her quilt, laughs are her mobile, gives me big smiles every morning and good grunts to her Daddy every evening. She's uber cuddly and can practically hold her head up on her own, which she's almost been doing since birth. She has started cooing and making communicative noises more, so that's been fun. She's a funny baby.

Guest blogger Yomama: Jennifer

Annie has invited me to be a guest blogger in honor of Jennifer, whom Annie has eloquently paid tribute to below.
Before I get to Jennifer, herself, I'd like to focus on Toddifer. Talk about a double dose of powerful punch...true inner sweetness with an edge of intelligent hip. Self sacrificing without wanting credit and humor in the face of suffering and that's not just limited to this past year. Toddifer is what Tomaren wants to be it we grows up.
I wish that I had photos and knew how to get them into this post. There are 3 in my memory bank, that come to mind - all at family reunions:
The first would be a snapshot foretelling the future. Jennifer lying on the living room floor in Duck, North Carolina with Todd massaging her neck, trying to ease one of the insane headaches that she has had to endure. It had to be bad if they made it public. It was the first I was aware that there were any concerns and I can't remember a conversation since, that either of them mentioned health issues, unless politely answering a nosy aunt.
The second would actually be a split screen - a before and after of a "walk" that I agreed to go on with Jennifer at Anderson Lodge. Why didn't I turn back when the first 300 feet were vertical?? The left side would show the two of us smiling, her confidently, me naively. The right side would show Jennifer smiling, hands on her hips, as fresh and relaxed as when she started. I'm not in the picture because I am bent over, hands on my knees, gasping for breath.
She's always been a challenge for anyone to keep up with!
The last picture might actually exist somewhere or it's that vivid in my memory. Newport Beach, queen sized air mattress, 100 feet off shore. At least 10 of the 19 male cousins (ages 14 and under)...and Jennifer...all trying desperately to hold on to the bucking mattress as the waves kept rolling in. My boys talked about it for weeks and it's usually part of the discussion of favorite past reunions doings...and Jennifer is always given credit. Young or old, strong or pathetic, Jennifer doesn't just include everyone, she enjoys including everyone.
Jennifer, we love you and pray for you and hope that this day of blogging (thank you Taryn!) has elbowed out some of the cringing pain and let in as warm a hugs as can be felt through a monitor. We love you.

Blog for Jennifer Day

This may be one of the very few completely genuine posts I will ever blog.

My cousin Taryn has brilliantly rallied the Garlock troops and declared April 22nd

Blog for Jennifer Wahlquist Day.

Plainly put, my cousin Jennifer is extremely sick.

I love her and am praying and hoping and praying some more that she gets better soon.

I first met Jennifer in the eighties around the time she married my cousin Todd.

The cute couple then:

The cute couple now:

As the first (maybe second?) marriage and wedding in the large Garlock family (within my younger generation), it was a big deal.

Almost as big as her hair at the time.

Their engagement picture was up on our fridge and I would stand there and stare at it, completely mesmerized. To me, she looked exactly like the only Barbie I owned and liked, which was Tropical Barbie. Upon meeting her, I discovered some more um, less shallow things about her which furthered my Jennifer-mesmerization. First of all, she was extremely kind. When she talked to me, she was truly interested in what I had to say. I was in elementary school mind you, and that didn't happen often with people I just met. I remember being told how smart she was by some of my family members and after she told me how much she loved math, science and computers, I was convinced. She really is an extremely intelligent woman. Among other things, in the past several years, she has built and started a charter school from the ground up because she, with good reason, wasn't completely satisfied with the public school system. She's a mover and a shaker and a do-er. She's an inspiration. Mainly because she's super good at Nertz, the card game in which my Garlock family tree is deeply rooted. Nertz trumps kindness and smarts in our family. You can be as mean as a hungry pregnant woman or as dumb as a UFC fighter, but if you can beat the majority of us in Nertz...Welcome, friend.

She is an incredible mother who has raised lovely, kind, funny, smart children.

While at BYU, I went to her house and was completely inspired. It was full of love, creativity and fun, run with efficiency and organization, was cleaner than clean and a lovely place to be. It was what I wanted for myself someday. She's just an all around Renaissance Woman. She does everything and is good at everything. In fact, if my Mom or I are trying to describe someone to each other who does everything and is good at everything, we say "...she's a Jennifer Wahlquist" and no further explanation is needed.

But here's the kicker. This amazing woman has been sick on and off for years with several different diagnosis of illnesses. To make a long story short, she received a stem cell transplant last year and has been in and out of the hospital ever since. Poked, prodded, starved, medicated, bed-ridden, quarantined, confined, weakened, and away from her sweet family. It has been an beyond awful nightmare. But because she is super woman, she smiles through it.


Her gorgeous baby Charlie (or perhaps her very funny husband Todd) keeps us all updated by their blog, where the main posts regarding her journey start here.
The post are never without a large amount of humor, entertaining us all with spoofs on pop culture icons, virtual pokes in other family members' ribs and dry, quick wit that always tie back to an update on Jennifer's ordeal, and we read, laugh and cry while we our hearts ache for her and her family.

A little while ago, Jennifer's oldest daughter
won first place in a photography contest with this image,
where the theme was "courage."

I cannot think of an image that would better illustrate that concept.

Get better soon, Jennifer.
We all want to beat you at Nertz.
We LOVE you.

Roller Girls

Tonight I am taking Ruby out on a date.
A roller skating date.
The last time I went roller skating was a decade ago,
shown here:

This time will be much different. Instead of worrying about which boys are looking at me and which boys are not and why aren't they looking at me? Look at me!!!, I will be worrying about my daughter and her diabetes, her blood glucose level, her falling, knocking her teeth out, will our dental insurance cover it, I'll have to find out what our dental deductible is , and oh! I need to call the insurance to check if we've met our deductible for the year because of Olive's birth, and how is Olive doing, is she crying?, is Go having to hold her and not able to study?, he needs to study, residency is so hard, why does it have to be this demanding? I can't wait until residency is over, but then real life will hit and we'll have to start a practice. Where will that be? What crazy amount of money will that take? Certainly money we don't have. Where will we get it? How will we pay for a roof over our head and food to eat in the meantime before the practice gets on its feet? I have to feed my children. How many children will I have? Will any of the other girls have diabetes? I don't know if I can handle much more than the ones I have. How are the ones at home doing? Is Olive hungry? Is May hungry? Did she get enough to eat at dinner? Is she coloring all over her duvet cover again? That's another load of laundry I'll have to do. Oh, crap! I left the stuff in the washing machine again. It'll mildew for sure...

But really, I'd like to just go and have fun with Ruby and feel 18 again, without a care in the world. And without the boy craziness, of course.

Week Five

She was pretty squirmy this afternoon, so this was best I got.

It is Tomorrow and the Sun Has Come Out

Olive took an hour nap this morning. And is asleep right now...kind of. We're moving in the right direction. Thank you, thank you for all the advice/well-wishing/sympathy. It did Mama good. Here is today's magic elixir--the key to Olive's daytime napping: swaddling (whole body), rocking followed by swooshing, dark blanket up on her window, quietness, Prilosec, Gripe Water, gas drops, binkie. In the past, I've been anti the dark and the quiet during naps--felt like it was setting them up to be fussy sleepers but, well, Olive is a fussy sleeper, so there you go.

I realized not being able to get things done wasn't what was bothering me the most. What really was at the core of my internal upset was this: I not only love my kids, but I like my kids. They are kind and funny and smart and sweet. I would like them if I wasn't their mother. I've always felt this way about them, even as infants. And even though I love Olive, over the past week I was beginning to feel like I didn't like her and that made me awful and guilty and inadequate and guilty some more.

Today, I can honestly say that I like Olive. She slept. She wasn't fussy. She even smiled at me this morning. And then she let out a big toot and that smile was gone as quick as a flash. But still. I'll take it.

Throw Me a Bone, People

I thought I'd update you all on my mental status. It is not good. You may be saying "Right, right. From lack of sleep. It's to be expected. Chill." No. That's not it at all. #1- After years of being a goofball college student and later on, battling insomnia, I'm a No-Sleep rock star. #2- Olive sleeps ok at night. 4-6 hour stretches usually. The issue is that she won't sleep during the day. No naps. Zero. Unless you count falling asleep, then waking up and crying every 3 minutes until it's time to eat again. The weird thing is, she's totally tired but can't stay asleep. And when awake, rarely does she tolerate being put down for more than 30 seconds. I'm a believer that if needs be, letting kids cry-it-out works great, but that's not until at least another month down the road. At least. All I do all day long is hold a fussy, tired baby. My house is a mess. My dinners are lame. I don't get anything done. I'm lucky if I shower. I AM GOING CRAZY. I don't remember this with my other two. Ruby and May were extremely easy babies. Or maybe I'm just forgetting. I don't think so, though.

So what's the deal? Am I out of practice since I waited so much longer between May and Olive than I did Ruby and May? Is it acid reflux? Somehow, I convinced my pediatrician that it might be and she started Olive on Prilosec, so we'll see if that helps. Do I just have a tough baby? What's the deal? What should I do? How do you make a 4 week old nap?

P.S. - When I send post from my phone, it automatically says "Sent from my iPhone." I don't type it in. John.

Some Weird Easter Photos

In defense of the big headband thingee on Olive:

Yes, in the past I may or may not have made fun of babies with big honking bows on their heads, both written and verbal. What I have not explained before is that I believe there to be, when it comes to babies' hair accessories (or head accessories, in the Reynolds girls' cases) a definite head size to bow/flower size to band width ratio that, in my eyes, needs to stay within a delicate balance or pure ridiculousness ensues. And yes, Olive's is clearly borderline. But it was Easter. And the accessories is what tied everything together. Blahblahblah.

Easter Angst

It was a weird Easter Sunday this year i was pretty frazzled for most
of the day, which wasnt what I was planning on--I really wanted to go
to church and focus, gain perspective and be uplifted today but I was
totally distracted and didn't succeed. I'm not feeling like I'm
succeeding at much of much of anything lately if you want to know the
truth and that doesn't sit well with me. I'm struggling with this
slower pace of life.

Pictures of cute girls in fabulous dresses to come. No where am I, the
mother, to be found in said cuteness or fabulousness: I've got the
post-baby chubs going on and couldn't fit into anything fabulous if I
tried, unless you think maternity clothes are fabulous, which if you
do, you really should get your head examined because they are most
definitely not. Thats a cold, hard fact, my friends. Whats even more
unfabulous is when maternity clothes are worn by a woman who is no
longer pregnant. Theres nothing cute about that. Its humiliating,
really. Speaking of which, The Annie Reynolds Weight Loss
Extravaganza of 2009 starts tomorrow. Because I'm nursing and can't
diet hard core the way I want to, it's going to be slow and steady.
And I'm not into that sort of thing.

I really hope everyone enjoyed their Easter, was happy, made some
memories and gave thanks for the real reason behind the holiday today.

Sent from my iPhone

Week 4: The Progression of Olive's First Smile

it's hard to keep your hands still when your baby gives you their first real smile...

Coming To You Live From Our Nation's Capital

The Cherry Blossom Festival is winding down and we were lucky
enough to catch the end of it this year. I took a lot of good
pictures but they are mostly of people I don't know. I'm thinking
of starting a "Pictures of People Taking Pictures of Other People"
series. I will list some favorites and some options I'm thinking
about for their titles.

"Two Dudes and Their Ponytails" or "You're a Guy With a Ponytail,
I'm a Guy With a Ponytail, Let's Go Stand in Front of Some Monuments"

"You Know I Be Thinkin' Bout Choo When I Make This Sexy Face Here
Next To This Statue of Some Dead White Dude" or "Yah Boo, You Know
You're My Whole World"

"You Can Tell I'm Thinking Extra Hard Because I've Got My Chin
Nestled Between My Thumb and My Extended Forefinger and I'm
Squinting Off Into the Distance" or "I'm a Huge Dork"

"Extremely Anglo-Saxon Junior High Schoolers With Tupac Shakur
Airbrushed T-Shirts" or " 'My Spring Break Visiting Washington DC:
Obama is Da Bomb-ah, Yo!', an essay written by Bobby Jenkins from
Whiteyville, Indiana."

"Looking Ever So Lovely Amongst the Cherry Blossoms" or "Hurry Up and
Take the Picture; I've Got a Tree Branch Up My Bum."

Sent from my iPhone

Summer Breeze Makes Me Feel Fine

And now I'm nursing on the floor of a Brooks Brothers fitting room. I
have decided I do not belong in this store for many many reasons, as
much of a fan I am of their men's no-iron shirts. The music they've
got going in here is making me yearn for Seals and Croft Muzak.

Sent from my iPhone

Dear La Leche League: Does Breastfeeding Make You Dumber? Sincerely, Nursing Neencampoop

>

> I am nursing in the bathroom/nursing lounge of a Lord and Taylor
> department store at the King of Prussia mall. A Muzak remake of a
> Seals and Croft song is playing that's even cheesier than the
> original. Mind blowing. Ladies keep walking into the restroom who
> have voices like men and I panic everytime, like "Am I in the men's
> nursing lounge?" and then I realize what I actually just asked
> myself and am convinced that this kid is not only sucking milk out
> of me, but possibly brain cells as well and quite a good amount of
> them.
>
> Sent from my iPhone

Week Three

Yesterday I was wiping off my counter and something occurred to me: I hadn't touched a wet rag in like 3 weeks. Then I thought about it and realized I hadn't prepared a meal all by myself in 3 weeks, hadn't swept the floor in 3 weeks, hadn't done much of anything but be waited on hand and foot by my Mom for the past 3 weeks. As I was saying goodbye to my servant, I mean, mother, I thanked her. She said what I could really do to thank her was to post a new picture of Olive every week, which I'm going to do. Every Friday, in fact, since she was born on a Friday. That way I can just say "Three Weeks Old" and it's really means she's 3 weeks old, not 3 weeks and 4 days old, which I realize no one would care about but me but this is my blog, so wah.

Miss Olive's actually been quite a handful for the past 3 days. Very gassy and will not tolerate being put down for even one minute. So it's sort of a miracle I caught pleasant looks on her face this morning.

And since I am her mother and she lived in my womb for 39 weeks, I can totally read her mind, so I will translate for you what she is trying to say to you with her eyes. (She learned how to do this by watching Tyra demonstrate this technique during panel week after week on America's Top Model.)

"Hey. Wait a second. You're not holding me. Why aren't you holding me?
My tummy hurts! Holding me makes me feel better. Come on! Hold me!"

"Oh, wait. I just saw my sister. She's so cool.
Especially the way she's sitting up all by her self.
She's so cool that she almost made me forget that my tummy hurts.
Hey. My tummy hurts. Hold me!"

Five Odds and Ends

1. My brother John guessed all the Gilmore Girls characters correctly EXCEPT #7, which was Doyle, not Christopher.

2. On the way to the hospital the morning I was to be induced with Olive, Yellow Ledbetter by Pearl Jam played on the radio. Even though I heard the song for the first time over 15 years ago, it still gives me goosebumps every time. From now on, I will think of Olive whenever I hear Yellow Ledbetter.

3. I hate having nursing boobs. What a hassle.

4. When I was laboring with Olive, right after Dr. Excellent OB announced that it was time to have a baby, I looked up and saw that the little TV in the corner of the room was on. Danny Tanner, Joey Gladstone and Jesse Katsopolis were having a heart to heart with DJ Tanner. As I was scooting down on the table with the nurses scurrying around getting ready, I remember snapping at Go and saying "Turn that TV off! The last thing I want to associate my child's birth with is Full House!"

5. Another great song/video for iTunes Free Video this week. So funny.

Peter Bjorn & John's Nothing To Worry About

We're Sick and We Know It

My Mom left yesterday. Plural tears. Hello, reality. How nice to see you. Not really...

In other news, you might have noticed I have a new banner. For those of you who don't know, these are Wii characters that are loads of fun to make, especially when you are confined to a couch with a baby attached to you.

What happens when you have to nurse every 2 hours and have already watched every Jimmy Fallon show you DVR'd? Then add your mother into the equation, who is as big of a fan of the Gilmore Girls as you are , then subtract your husband who is gone working for the night, who is NOT as big of a fan as you are, and then add your Wii, who is just sitting there looking so sad and lonely. It equals = Wii characters of the cast of the Gilmore Girls created from memory, of course. OF COURSE!

I know. Surely, I could have found a more useful way to spend my time while nursing. No, not really.

If I ever have to get a job, I am so putting "Mad Wii Character Making Skillz" on my resume. I suggest my Mom do the same if needs be. In this economic climate, it wouldn't hurt.

See if you can name all 18!

1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

6.

7.

8.

9.

10.

11.

12.

13.

14.

15.

16.

17.

...and my favorite...
18.