Faith & Fruit Loops

I remember General Conference weekend growing up my mom would always have tons of conference related activities to keep us in our seats and paying attention. The most popular of these was General Conference bingo, other activities included special journals and writing things we learned on pieces of construction paper, then stringing them onto fruit loop necklaces. No matter what, General Conference always included a big bag of fruit loops. Not only did the fruit loops make great necklaces and bingo markers, they were considered a special treat because it was the only time of year my mom ever bought cold cereal. We eventually outgrew mom's tactics and had to rely on our own devices to stay awake and listen. I am happy to report however, that while the bingo cards got tucked away into the dark recesses of one of mom's filing cabinets, the fruit loops remained a General Conference staple. And, for whatever reason, my mom continued to buy a huge bag of them every April and October. So it should come as no surprise that as Sam was leaving the house this morning to pick up some Ajax to srubb the shower, I also requested a big box of fruit loops. Conference just doesn't seem right to me now with out munching on a big bowl of sugary, artificially flavored, air-filled cereal.

Of course, Conference just had to begin with the talk that everyone loves to hate, the debt talk. I did my best to ignore Elder Hale, but he said too many true things. Sam and I are not big spenders (having no money really helps out with this). But he does have a good job this summer and in the back of my mind I have been dreaming about a new set of couches. The couches we presently sit on are ones I paid 35.00 for at a garage sale before we got married. They are pretty shabby and every couple of months I have to get out my scissors and cut of all of the new fraying strings. I have let them get really bad recently because in the back of my mind was the thought that they wouldn't be with us much longer. However, after Elder Hale's talk (and a few more bowls of fruit loops) I broke out my rag and needle and thread and did what I could to make the couches last a little while longer. Obviously it would be more prudent of us to work on our food storage and build our savings than to get new furniture. So, thanks Elder Hale for keeping us on track. And thanks to the fruit loops for making that pill a little sweeter to swallow.

Surprise!!

My doctor wanted to make sure that the baby survived the half-marathon and scheduled a random ultra-sound for the day that I got back. The baby looked great and is growing nicely I mentioned to the ultra-sound technician that my doctor said I couldn't find out the sex of the baby until I was twenty weeks along. She just smiled and pushed a little harder with the sensor, low and behold we are having . . . . . . . . . . . . . a girl! Sam and I were shocked; we were expecting a boy, had only ever talked about it being another boy, and only had a boy name picked out. Our heads are still spinning just a bit. I guess the moral of this story is that if you want to find out what you are having four weeks ahead of schedule, run a half-marathon.

Catch-up in Reverse

So, for all of you avid readers of my blog, of which I am sure my mother is the only one, I must apologize for my long absence. We took a trip back to Utah and just rolled back into town last night. We left town a couple of weeks ago to be in Utah in time to say goodbye to Sam's little brother who went into the MTC on his way to Portugal. Sam stayed with us for a week during his spring break and then headed back to Colorado for classes while Ollie and I remained to be spoiled just a bit more by grandma and grandpa.


We met up again in Moab where I ran the Moab Half-Marathon. I looked and looked, but I am pretty sure of the thousands of people who ran, I was the only visably pregnant woman there. I am now four months along and although it was not my best time, I was pretty proud of myself for running the whole thing. I did get accosted by a lady at the starting line who asked if I was pregnant and then started in on all the reasons why I should not be running a half-marathon. But, despite her skeptical looks and dire predictions I am happy to report that myself and my baby did fine and feel great! (On a side note, I just realized that the only pictures I have posted of myself recently are right after running races. I will try to find a decent pregnant picture soon. I really don't look that bad when I am showered and not wearing sweats :) I promise).

On our way home from Moab we stopped at some sand dunes and let Ollie play. Sam got pretty into it as well and was working hard to dig holes whilst Ollie worked twice as hard to fill them up.


During our stay in Salt Lake we took a trip to Wheeler Farm. Oliver is really into animals and knows all the farm animal sounds so I thought he would love to see the cows, pigs, and chickens. Well, he did enjoy it but the animals had nothing to do with it. He made a beeline for the rocks and the river the second we got there and we spent a good hour and a half throwing rocks into the water. We finished up with a picnic and came home. Oh well, he was happy.
Oliver's favorite pastime at Grandma's house is to feed the animals. He spends all day carrying handfuls of hay to them. He also discovered some unharvested carrots in grandma's garden and begged anyone and everyone within walking distance of a shovel to come and dig them out for him to feed to the animals. In this picture he is out in his p.j.'s, he was so anxious to get outside that he wouldn't even let me change him.

We also visted the Salt Lake Children's Museum. Oliver loved it, especially the water table and the balls, we had a hard time directing his attention anywhere else.

Chilly Cheeks

Today my friend and I competed in the Chilly Cheeks Dualthon. The race consisted of a 10.8 mile bike ride (with lots of hills) and a 4 mile run. I think that in my honor it should have been renamed the Chubby Cheeks Dualthon, but lets not get into that. It was a bit windy out and it made me wish that I was still able to zip my windbreaker up over my bulging belly, I had to settle for a baggy sweatshirt instead. Finishing the race wasn't too hard at all, especially considering the fact that I did absolutely no training on my bike. The only rough part was the transition from the bike to the run. I felt like I was inching along and it took my legs a good mile before they figured out we were running and not biking anymore. I competed in the fat tire, i.e. mountain bike division, and placed right in the middle. Of course, if there was a pregnant division I am sure I would have swept it!!

Toddler Tales

You know, before I had Ollie I used to laugh at moms who, when questioned how old their baby was, would respond with the number of months rather than just say he was one, one and a half or two. I promised myself I would not be one of those moms that leaves the rest of the world counting up months on their fingers to determine the actual age of my child. Then I had a baby myself and I realized that the developmental difference between a six and seven month old is roughly equivalent to the difference between a six and seven year old. Thus, Oliver's age has always been stated in months and I have had to eat my words.

This February our little Oliver reached the ripe old age of 18 months. Here is a little run down on his world. At the moment Ollie is absolutely obsessed with balls, trains (Thomas the Train to be exact) and rocks. Everywhere we go Oliver must pick up a rock. My purse, the back seat of my car, and Oliver's room are all full of rocks. If there is a pond, river or bucket of water to throw the rock in then Oliver's happiness is complete.

Oliver is a really good eater and can still devour a carton of strawberries all by himself in a single sitting. Aside from berries, his other favorites include guacamole, macaroni and cheese, olives, carrots and dip, pretzels and oranges. He loves to go to Mother Goose time at the library and to sing songs. His favorite is Popcorn Popping, and he knows all the actions. Oliver also loves to read books, "read" is a relative term here - he likes to look at books, turn the pages himself and point to the pictures but he doesn't have the attention span to sit and listen to the words. Not yet anyway.

He is just now starting to say a lot of words, some of the ones we hear a lot are:

gock - rock
guck - used for both truck and stuck
ba - ball
boey - birdie
bewy - berry
gook - book
shoo shoo - choo choo train
mo - more
ba ba - blanket

He also knows lots of animal sounds. My personal favorites are his rooster and fish sounds, they are just too cute. At eighteen months we are happy to report that Oliver is still the sweet and happy boy that he has always been. He spends most of his time smiling and laughing and makes our lives so very happy.

(This is a picture of Oliver at the zoo. He is looking at the elephants and making an elephant sound which always includes waving his arm in front of his nose like a trunk).

What about the mom?

This week I came down with a terrible cold. Seriously, I think that there ought to be a moratorium on head colds while your pregnant. Who wants to have a stuffy head, sore throat and runny nose when they are already dealing with exhaustion, nausea and crazy cravings? I mean, come on, enough is ENOUGH! I have been pretty miserable, to say the least. On Tuesday when I woke up the only thought that went through my head was, "I want my mom." Mom's take such good care of you when you don't feel good, they just make everything better. This week for the very first time I realized that while the mom takes care of everyone, there is no one to take care of the mom. Sad. It made me think I should have taken better care of my own mom when I was growing up. Sam, of course, did his best, but he has been really busy with school and we hardly see him. Poor Oliver was forced to watch 101 Dalmatians several times a day while I sat on the couch in a Tylenol induced coma. He was a trooper.

Today I actually had my energy restored and it was great. I have been incredibly tired with this second pregnancy. Something I never experienced the first time around and have been somewhat whiny about. Today when my energy was restored, to my low-energy pregnant state that is, I felt ready to take on the world. Maybe I just had to loose everything to appreciate what I've got. Trust me, I'll take the first-trimester tiredness any day over what I have experienced the past few days, and be grateful for it! Sometimes I wish there was an easier way to learn things.

Let it Snow

Sam and Oliver's idea of a good time this past weekend was to create their own styrofoam snowstorm. They of course had a grand time, I on the other hand am still cleaning up "snow" three days later. Oh well.

(Please ignore Ollie's mismatched outfit here, it was a result of him spilling a glass of water on outfit number one and then meticulously smooshing macaroni and cheese into outfit number two. What's a mom to do?)

Snowed In

Oh what do you do in the wintertime, when all the world is cold?
Do you splash in the sink?
Snuggle your blankie?
Or build your blocks up to the sky?
Do you draw with your markers?
Play with your rocks?
Or style your hair in new ways?
Is that what you do? So do I.

How Quickly We Forget

A couple of days ago I was in need of a good read. After scanning all of my bookshelves and finding only the book club book that I had planned to procrastinate reading a little longer, I turned instead to some old journals and notebooks. Among them was a huge binder in which my mom had compiled all of the letters I had written home during my mission. As of yet I had never even opened it and thought it might be fun to peruse. Turns out, it was. I enjoyed reading my accounts about missionary work and mission life. It was the very last letter I wrote home that really got to me. First it made me laugh, then it made me think, and I haven't stopped thinking about it since. Which is why I am going to share it with you now. The following is me quoting myself from a letter written home on April 7, 2003.

"I think that I had better give you a little bit of waring so that you can be more prepared to help me enter into normal society again. First of all, remember that my living circumstance have not been the same as yours. I am used to eating my main meal at noon. Any table manners that I once had are gone, instead of a knife and fork I will probably just try to eat everything with a large spoon. Don't be surprised to see me stuffing unwanted food into my purse or throwing out the window when I think that you are not looking. After I am done you might find me washing off my dishes under cold water with m fingers. Please just walk me through the proper dishwashing procedures. If you want to help preserve my sanity please remove all rice, chicken, beans, pasta with mayonnaise and ketchup, powdered milk non-RSDA approved meat and any parts of the cow that should normally be thrown away (i.e. brains, tongues, intestines, hoofs) from the house. If you want to make me happy you can stock the cupboards with ice cream, cereal, real milk, apples, raisins and peanut butter.

Don't be surprised if I spend hours rubbing my fingers through the grass or the carpet. If you find me playing with the telephone please remind me that my calls will actually go through the first time. The first time you see me washing my clothes in the sink kindly remind me what a washing machine is and how it is used. Please be patient with me if I cry every time I see and American flag. Please don't get too embarrassed if I try to bargain with the vegetable man in the grocery store. If you see me standing for hours on the corner it is because I am waiting for the carritos and chicken buses. Gently remind me that you can give me a ride or even let me borrow your car, which may be a bit scary after driving with drunk Venezuelan men for the past year and a half.

Please be understanding about the overwhelming guilt I will feel the first time I attend church without at family of investigators. Try to ignore me when I sing the hymns at the top of my lungs, I am just trying to help everyone hear the right tune. If I start to get paniky before Sunday School, I am just worrying about what kind of false doctrine they are going to teach in the class of new investigators. Every time I enter a room expect to see a round of handshakes for the men and kisses for the women, and another round of each as I leave. The only purfume I wear is bug spray, and I may need some help remembering how to do anything other than a ponytail with my hair."

When I read this I remembered just how excited I was to use a washer and a dryer again. But, I am so darn adaptable that after only a few weeks I wasn't even grateful for it anymore. I just expected it. I complain now that my carpet needs vacuuming everyday without ever thinking of my friends who sit around on a dirt floor every night. I worry about the economic situation our country is in and the policies of our new president without being grateful for living in a free country full of opportunity. I spend plenty of time complaining about the price of gas without ever remembering what a blessing it is to be able to come and go as I please. I grumble to myself about how many dishes I have to load into the dishwasher everyday without being grateful for the clean, hot water that comes out of my faucet. I stress about the price of groceries and never give thanks for the abundance that we have. I don't feel guilty anymore about not taking investigators to church with me. Pretty much the only thing I have going for me is that I am still happy not to have to dowse myself in bug spray every time I walk out the door.

I guess what I am trying to say is that I am sorry I have forgotten to notice all of the blessings in my life. The Lord has taken such good care of me, and I really am grateful for my washer and dryer. Here is to hoping that I will remember a little longer this time.

Everyday is a Treasure