And Pepper When He Pleases

I've rather avoided posting lately because not much happens around here, and most of the people who care about how Rosalind is progressing (ie grandparents) live nearby. Also, I'm lazy. But some things are actually happening now! So I'll get the baby stuff out of the way and then bore you with updates.

Bonus: this post contains many NEVER-BEFORE-SEEN BABYPIX (TM)!!!

Alors. Ros will be 3 months old in a couple of weeks (can you believe it? I hardly can). I'm finally getting used to waking up in the middle of the night. Not that it makes me happy, but at least I no longer want to punch sleeping Sam in the face every time the baby wakes up.

Ros had her 2 month immunizations last week. I was naturally more nervous than I ought to have been (I was shaky after it was all over). When the time came, the nurse had me hold her legs still, and I focused on The Democratic Republic of the Congo on a map on the wall. Ros obviously didn't like the actual shots, but she calmed down pretty quickly, and was pretty happy until a few hours later when her world ended. She had been sleeping in the car, and when I went to take her out she was sporting the most tragic baby frown and had tears in her eyes. I felt so bad for her. The poor baby developed a reaction to the oral rotavirus vaccine (this is quite common actually, but having the full-blown virus is much worse). So she spent many hours screaming (not fussing, screaming), and generally felt sick to her stomach until Monday morning. Poor chicky.

Other than the past few days, Ros has sort of developed a nighttime schedule FINALLY. She usually only wakes up to eat once at night, between 4am and 6am. We're still working on getting her to bed at a decent hour-- being sick sort of caused a setback on that. She was actually on kind of an awesome schedule for a while where she would wake up at 3:41 (exactly) to poop and then went right back to sleep, and then woke up at 5:05 to eat. It was wonderfully predictable, and I only had to actually get up once! Don't judge me for letting my baby sleep in a dirty diaper for an hour. She doesn't care. Alas, thanks to sicky babe, no more schedule.

Anyway, otherwise she's doing pretty stellar. I finally just started her on the cloth diapers because she grew out of her size 1 sposies (don't make fun of me, that's what people call them and I think it's funny). I also really like them, which is the important part, really. Washing them is super easy since we have a standard washer. The 12 diapers I got cost as much as 2.5 boxes of regulars, so they have basically almost paid for themselves. And contrary to popular belief, they are not much more difficult to put on, I only do one extra load of laundry every other day, and I'm not constantly covered from head to toe in baby poop. I don't even really touch it more than usual (and anyway if you are afraid to touch gross things every now and then, you probably shouldn't have children...or pets...or plants). And we almost never have leaks (when we do it's usually "user error").  So I'm pretty pleased. Although it did take a few days to get used to her new gigantobum.

Ros never really did learn to nurse well. I'm still able to nurse her at night & early in the AM because she's too sleepy to be uncooperative, but I've been pumping as much as I can to feed her during the day. She's kind of a ravenous wolf, so I had to start supplementing with formula since I couldn't produce enough for her. So she gets formula for her last bottle of the day, and right now, while I'm focusing on building a supply in the freezer and in myself, she gets about half and half via bottle during the day. Hopefully soon I will be able to pump enough to nurse the first 2 feedings like I'm doing, give all breastmilk via bottle in the day, then a formula bottle right before bed. I have such lofty goals! Things may yet change, but for now I'm doing my best.

Anywho, she can also support her weight for a while on her legs and she can sit assisted (we're trying to get her used to the Bumbo we borrowed from my aunt, but she still lists to starboard). She also has the neck strength of a wildebeast (guys I'm trying to make this interesting) and loves to coo all. the. time. It's my favorite.

She thinks it's hilarious when I try to dance to entertain her, and she loves it when I sing. Her favorite song is "Skye Boat Song," possibly because I used to sing it a lot while I was pregnant. 

Also, this baby is seriously a chunk. She's so heavy (I don't know exactly how much, but I would guess 14-15lbs). And she has rolls like a sumo wrestler.

She's slower at grabbing things and bringing things to her mouth deliberately, but she's working on it. She likes to hold her Oball and her toothbrush for short periods of time. I think we are going to make her a little bell rattle soon, because how on earth is she going to learn cause and effect without a rattle?? Seriously.

And she's still cute. I'd venture to say she gets cuter every day. I can't wait to see her get really interesting.

Ok that was really long. At risk of boring you all to death, I'm going to put our life updates into a separate post. Rah!

It's Better to Feel Pain Than Nothing At All

If you're not into gritty deets, redirect your attention elsewhere for a while, like maybe to this.  Otherwise, read on for le birth story de moi.

So my due date came and went with still nary a sign of anything going on other than my pelvis feeling more and more like it would snap in half before long.  That day (January 11th), I went to a breastfeeding class at the Birth Center and sat through it on a yoga ball, hoping to bounce the baby out.  It didn't work.  The next few days I was rather miserable, to say the least, if only because I was certain that my absolute lack of apparent progression meant that either:

1. I wasn't really pregnant, it was all a big, elaborate joke played on me by someone (hello, yes, this can happen, did nobody watch Smallville?)

2. I would literally be pregnant forever (as in literally, literally.  See link above.)

3. I would have to be referred to a doctor, admitted to the hospital, and induced.  The induction would then inevitably fail, and I would need a C-Section to safely deliver my baby.  This has happened to a couple people I know lately, so it was rather at the forefront of my mind.  My fear was worsened by the fact that I still don't have health insurance, so paying for all that would be a nightmare.

Anyway, for some reason, though rather desperate and disconsolate (thank you church songs for widening my vocab), Tuesday I was finally able to relax some.  I had lunch out with family, and got reassuring answers from a health insurance rep.  We had a good Webelos activity that night, and then went to bed.

At 1:43 in the morning (ish...but who's keeping track), I woke up feeling what I was certain were pretty bad contractions.  They felt like period cramps on steroids, for those wondering.  But they were pretty manageable.  I lay there for a while wondering if I should bother timing them since there was no way they could be real the very first time I felt them (at four days overdue, no less...ha...).  After a few contractions, I decided to time them.  They were still rather painful, requiring concentration on my breath to get through them, but not horrible.  They were about 6 minutes apart and lasting about a minute.  Eventually I started to wonder if there was something else I could do, at least so that I wasn't thinking about it.  I went through the list of things-to-do-in-early-labor: Eat, Drink, Walk, Shower, Nap.  Well...I didn't think any of those activities (besides drinking some water) would be justifiable at 2 in the morning, except the sleeping part.  So I tried to go back to sleep.  My body had other plans, however.  Pretty soon I got too uncomfortable to be lying down, and anyway, I felt like I needed at least to get up and go to the bathroom.  Nobody likes contractions on a full bladder.

They were pretty uncomfortable sitting down too, it turned out, so I decided to pace the halls of our freezing cold apartment.  I wandered around ("putsy-putsy" the books call it) and paused in random places for the contractions, breathing and swaying my hips through them.  After about an hour and a half of them being regular, they suddenly switched to being anywhere from 30 seconds to 7 minutes apart (those coupling ones are the worst, lemme tell you), and lasting anywhere from 30 seconds to 2 minutes.  Basically, they were all over the place.  But at the same time, they were getting more intense.  Even though I swore to myself "that won't be me" when we talked in class about getting through contractions by humming and/or moaning, I pretty much needed to at least hum to get through them, while concentrating on breathing.

My plan, when this all started, was to get through the early labor by myself, then let Sam go to work at 6:30 like he normally does, then call him home when things progressed further.  But by 4:30 or so, I decided I needed help getting through the contractions, and who better to turn to but the card-carrying labor coach sleeping in my bed?  So I woke him up, trying to play it cool.

"I think I'm in labor.  But the contractions are all over the place and I'm not sure what that means.  They're pretty intense though, like it hurts too much to be sitting here talking to you...HMMMMMMM..."

He called the midwife.  I was worried about crying wolf, and I kept thinking about how they had told us that normally they can tell if a woman is really in labor by the way she sounds in the background on the phone.  I was thinking I might have to fake it, but oh boy nope, it was all real.  She recommended I take a shower to take the edge off the pain, and call her in a few hours.

So I got in the shower and told Sam to go back to bed.  At first the shower felt really nice, and I even washed my hair between contractions, pausing to breathe and sway during them.  But after a few minutes, the contractions started getting more and more intense, and what the? I felt like I had to push soon.

"How is this possible?  I'm just being dramatic.  I can ignore it and breathe through it.  Or, you know, hum.  Or...yell?  What..."

Sam came back in and asked if he should call the midwife again.  I told him no, go back to sleep.  ("Ahhhh!")  He called the midwife and told her I felt like I had to push and that I had started bleeding some.  She said to come in, especially considering we were about 40 minutes away.

It took forever for me to dry off and get dressed since the contractions were coming more frequently and were obviously pretty intense, and I was having to be rather vocal to get through them.  Eventually we got out to the car ("Hurry up I don't want to have a contraction out here and wake up the neighborhood!") and took off.

You know how they say that the overly-dramatic mad-dash-to-the-hospital labors you see in movies and TV shows are basically fiction, or else really rare?  Well, that's how it was for us.  Sam was going at least 100mph whenever he could.  We only ran one red light, and didn't get pulled over, so that was lucky.  There were a couple of jerks who went slow in front of us on purpose, but I think once we got around them and they could see me screaming through the window, they went home and repented.

Shortly before we got there, I had a horrible feeling of dread that I really might not be able to make it, since it was requiring all my effort and concentration not to push at this point, and it hurt quite a bit to do so, but I told myself we were almost there and that I could get through it because it wouldn't last forever, etc etc.  As we were pulling into the parking lot, a rib or something popped in my chest from the exertion of not pushing.  Ouch.  It scared me a little.  And made it hard to blow my nose for a couple of days.

We got out of the car (it was about 6am at this point) and Adrienne, the midwife, was standing there waiting at the door.  I had to lean on the bed through a contraction, then stood there and said "Okay...what do I do?"  Adrienne said she wanted to check my dilation first, so I managed to make myself available in that way, somehow.

"Okay, the baby's right there and you're fully dilated, so push whenever you want."

"Really?  Okay..."  I had this thought that I didn't really know what I was about to do, since it had all been so fast.  I'd anticipated it would take hours and hours to get to this point, and here I was, 4 hours later and ready to push.  Adrienne asked if I wanted to fill the tub, and I said sure, though I wasn't sure I'd end up using it.  She started filling it, Sam called my mom and told her to make tracks (or maybe he did this when we left the house), texted his mom to give her the heads up, and I pushed a couple times on my own.

I was sort of on my hands and knees on the bed at this point, though it was almost more like Child's Pose.  They did some vitals on the baby with the Doppler and apparently she "didn't like that position," so Adrienne suggested lying on my side.  I pushed a couple times in that position, and then Adrianna, our Bradley teacher, who is also the group prenatal teacher and a birth assistant at the Birth Center, showed up.  I felt pretty lucky that she had been on call that night.

After that, things get a little hazy for me.  They gave me oxygen, I think because I was a little worn out from the yelling/breathing through the contractions (my throat felt sore and I remember thinking I was going to regret it later).  My mom showed up.  The pushing was hard, and it hurt quite a bit, and I kept thinking of Elvis dying on his throne, and hoping I wouldn't have a heart attack, but then I reminded myself that millions of women do this everyday and everything turns out just fine, so I went with it and pushed through the burning.

After a bit, everyone started talking about how they could see the head, and how it looked like she had hair, and then oh-my-gosh she's en caul how cool!  At this point, they were encouraging me to push pretty much continuously, which was difficult, and I didn't feel like I had the energy, but I reminded myself that it was SO CLOSE to being over, so if I could just forget Elvis and push through to the end, I'd feel better, so that's what I did.  I also kind of got the feeling there was some urgency, like the baby really wanted to come out, like now, and holding back would be cruel, and I didn't want to start off my career as a parent by being selfish and neglectful.

Apparently the baby's cord was wrapped around her neck, but with one of her arms in there too, so once her shoulders were out, Adrienne broke the membrane and ruined the en caul experience (just kidding) so she could free her.  One more push after that (I think) and she was out, at 6:36, less than 5 hours from when I felt the first contraction.  I guess they had to give her a few puffs of oxygen, although I'm not sure why (in fact, I didn't know they gave her oxygen until yesterday, and I'm kind of glad, because it would've worried me a lot)  They handed her to me, all wet and wiggly and soft, and toweled off her face.  She started to cry some, and that was that.

I held her while the cord finished its thang.  I can't remember if they cut the cord before or after the placenta was delivered, because it took a while to come out.  That part might've been my fault, Adrienne told me I'd need to push it out when I felt cramping, and I was thinking, "No way, I'm never pushing anything anywhere ever again."  But I did it anyway.  Story of my life.

Anyway, so after separating the placenta from the baby, Sam got to cut the cord in grand ceremonious style, with large golden shears (or rather, scissors that apparently needed sharpening).  I held the baby a while longer, we decided to name her Rosalind, tried some nursing, and then we both needed to get checked out, so the party was over.

Again, I don't remember the order things went in, but I know that they weighed the baby and that she was 9lbs 4.5oz, making me feel proud and accomplished for making a baby over 8lbs.  All her reflexes were good and her color was great, and yada yada my baby is amazing.  And then they checked me out while other people held the baby.

I had only one little tear, and nowhere near my perineum at that (go me!), but it was sort of a funky shape, and rather high, probably caused by the baby's fist near her face.  So for that I needed a few stitches.  But I kept bleeding, which apparently makes it hard to see anything, so Adrienne checked me, and lo and behold, I'd retained a bunch of junk that really hurt like the dickens when she pushed it out.  I was still bleeding a little, so they gave me a shot in my thigh (and subsequent pills every few hours) to make my uterus contract more and stop the bleeding.  Then I got my stitches (yikes, ow, etc).

Sam's mom then showed up (after a phone call that went something like "Why didn't you tell me?!" "I did" "Oh wow, that was fast, I just got your text") and everybody oohed and ahhed over the baby, and I had a yummy French toast breakfast from a diner down the street.

Eventually, the moms left, Adrienne went to attend to clinic, Adrianna went to a class she had to go to, another birth assistant showed up to help me get a little cleaned up, and then Sam and I were alone with the baby, so naturally we took a nap.

Around 12pm or 1pm, the birth assistant came in again to give us a little discharge education, and Adrienne came in to chat with us for a bit.  Final vitals were taken on everybody, we all got dressed, changed our first diaper and cleaned up our first spit up (of wonderful mucus, thank you, dear en caul baby).  Then we went home.

Sigh.  All missions accomplished.

Now Rosalind is two weeks old.  I've been trying to simultaneously adjust to and process everything that's happened.  It all went so fast and contrary to how I expected that now that it's over, I wonder if it was really real.  And taking care of a new baby is hard anyway, especially when you realize you basically know nothing you thought you did, and you look like a sleepy deflated balloon and feel like a sad and angry empty box, and oh the baby is starting to fuss, so you should feed her and change her diaper, but didn't you just do that?  Also it's 2am and you haven't slept in 16 hours and the last time you ate was when?  And between your crying and struggling to stay awake, the baby laughs in her sleep or you count her tiny eyelashes while she's feeding and it's heart-meltingly adorable, and even though sometimes everything feels like a horrible joke (man, apparently I have issues with reality), there are the times that make it feel worth it, or at least make you forget about everything else for a little while.

You know how they say that when you reach two weeks, you look back and say "Man, that was hard, how did I get through it?  Things are a little better now." I think that's true.  And then when that happens again at 6 weeks, and 3 months, and 6 months, and forever... I think everything's going to be okay.  Eventually the baby will learn to nurse and so it will stop hurting, and if she doesn't, we will come up with a Plan B, and it will be okay.

And it's okay to take every bit of advice people throw out there and put it through the sifter.  It's okay to be scared and unsure, as long as it doesn't consume you.  And it's okay to feel uncertain about your birth, because it was kind of a big deal, and writing it down does actually help.  And the baby sure is cute.

Oh, and my wedding ring still doesn't fit.  Suck a moose.

----

Side note: I absolutely loved my experience with the Birth Center.  I also am really glad that I decided to have a drug-free birth.  It caused me to seek out a ton of education, which I think is extremely important for a life-changing event as big as pregnancy and birth.  Even if I had decided to do a hospital birth, I would probably not have had time for an epidural or any of that because it was so fast, and so because I knew what to expect, I was able to get through the pain, and I wasn't afraid, so it wasn't so bad.  I actually imagine it would be scarier to have an epidural birth, but that's just me.  I also have really appreciated how willing to help and understanding my midwife has been through the postpartum stuff.  It really has been a great experience, and if you're even considering ever doing a natural birth or using a midwife or whatever, I would absolutely and annoyingly recommend it, if it's a safe option for you.

Still.

It's possible I am actually an elephant, or maybe a blue whale. That might explain what's happening to me. 

I know I'm "only" 40 weeks and 2 days pregnant, and like I think I mentioned before, the real average human gestation is something like 41 weeks and 1 day, but at this point, every day feels something close to eternity. In two days I will have surpassed the longest time my mom was pregnant (which, even though it will make me feel accomplished for some reason, I still want to avoid).

In case you're wondering, they will check me on Thursday to make sure the placenta is still functioning up to snuff, and if it is, they will wait another 5 days or so before we start talking about induction options, starting with non-medical stuff and then go from there. But it's totally and legally safe to leave the baby cooking until 42 weeks and some change so long as the placenta is still working fine and the baby is okay. It's all a matter of patience. 

I've been told by many that as soon as you truly give up and really believe you'll be pregnant forever, that's when the baby comes. But I guess I'm too patient or understanding or whatever, because while I have totally given up and am completely ready to be done and feel like I will never go back to normal, practicality tells me it's not medically possible to stay pregnant forever (aside from stone babies, but that's just sad), which makes me feel like the baby *will* never come, purely because I haven't given up 100%. Which is totally unfair.

Anyway, since I've had enough of feeling like a boulder or an elephant seal and crying because my shoes won't go on and I have to wear the same thing I wore two days ago because literally nothing fits anymore and I can't walk because my pelvis hurts so bad and I can't sleep for 500 reasons (including that I'm really sweaty even though it's probably 40 degrees in the room) and blah blah blah...I am trying to come up with a list of things to look forward to once all of this is FINALLY over! So here is what I've come up with so far:

Lying on my stomach

Lying on my back for longer than a couple of minutes

Bending over

Wearing clothes that fit, pants that button up, shirts that cover me, etc!

Walking and rolling over without pain

Going to the bathroom and having it be more than like a tablespoon even though it felt like Niagara Falls

Running and jumping!

Kissing chubby baby cheeks

Holding, dressing, playing with, singing to, watching an ACTUAL BABY instead of an amorphous alien lump

Being able to let Sam actually interact with and take care of the baby

Etc

Well. There you go. I'm sure there's a lot more I just can't think of right now. For those with morbid curiosity, I tell you the following stats:

They are estimating the baby will be between 8 and 8 1/2 pounds (at my last appointment 4 days ago) and is "quite long".

I weigh more than I ever imagined I would. Fortunately no stretch marks though. Maybe that's my consolation prize for gaining more than average.

If I make it to my 41-week appointment on Thursday they will start checking dilation/effacement, but up til now I can only guess.

Aaaaand... I have had approximately ZERO signs that labor is near. Well, nothing solid anyway. So I will continue to hang in there and hope beyond hope that the baby comes before it's too late to give birth in the Birth Center and I have to go to the hospital *anyway*, even though I wanted to avoid that more than anything :(

COME ON.

No pictures 4 u this time of basketball-smuggling-me, it's kind of embarrassing at this point, really. Instead, let's look at these poor-quality pictures of us as youngins and try to speculate what the Unborn One might look like.

Cat Daddy

We don't do much around here these days. Sam works two jobs and is gone before the sun rises (actually not hard to do in Utah, since the sun doesn't rise til like 9am) until it sets in the frozen western sky. I work a few jobs, but all periodically. I can barely move so I don't go places all that often. And when we get to do things together, they are usually boring and involve staying home.

But! This past week we had our second anniversary, so we actually did get out of the house!

We went up to the Humane Society to look at and play with all the animals, then came home and had a frozen pizza (see? boring), then went out for dessert.

The HS was really fun. By the time we left, Sam wanted to adopt 2-3 dogs, 5 or so cats, and a ferret. And possibly some birds and a rabbit named "Biggie Smallz". We spent the most time with the cats, partly because there are the most of them, partly because they have awesome new interactive facilities, and partly because they were a lot calmer than the other animals (except the one that made a jail break and Sam had to chase through the hallways).

Random: apparently you can adopt mice at the shelter. Who would pay $5 for a "used" mouse??

Here are a couple of pictures of some of our favorite cats:

Oh, and I guess we got out one other time this month. I had my first ever legit office Christmas party a couple weeks ago! Fortunately, there are really only 4 or so of us at the company, so even with our spouses, it was an "intimate affair" (pinky up). We met at the Nickelcade and had a ton of greasy pizza, chatted for a while, then were each given two big bags of nickels and released onto the game floor with the direction to get the highest score of some game, or as many tickets as you could (for people like me, who won only at Fruit Ninja, and only because no one else played it). There were prizes for everyone (of course). I won a $25 Visa gift card, and Sam won a $25 Fandango gift card. When I asked him why he didn't pick a gift card for a restaurant, he said he forgot we were about to have a newborn. Go figure. Oh well, he is still the Hero of Guitar Hero.

There was also unlimited laser tag, but by the time we got to it, it was 10pm, and we are all adults with bedtimes after all, plus I didn't fancy getting knocked down by a crazy pre-teen in the name of lasers, so we went home. Deadbeats.

We had a really good time though, even if I didn't get any pictures.

Aside from those things, nothing really interesting has happened around here lately. Sam is currently searching avenues for a different/better job, and there have been a few prospects, but so far nothing has come of it. Oh well.

Maybe next time I will have all kinds of awesome news! (Baby? New job? Lottery winnings??)

The End is Near

The part that comforts me at this point is that I know that within 5 weeks and 3 days, I will have an ACTUAL BABY. Although I'm hoping it's way sooner (because who wants to go to 42 weeks 3 days?). Ahem. Knock on wood.

It has become difficult to do basically everything. Like even typing this is hard because my hands are all tingly and numb and my wrists hurt (pregnancy-induced carpal tunnel...so cool). Putting on my shoes takes about 1,000,005 years because my feet are swollen and I have to wear thick socks because it's cold and I can't bend over to tie my shoes. Moving in general is a Herculean task because at this point whatever SPD I had is like a bazillion times worse. Although I read yesterday that it goes away almost immediately after birth and I am so very much looking forward to not feeling like I'm 85 years old. Until I'm 85. Actually not even then.

Anyway. If you add in pregnancy rhinitis, hormones upon hormones, being kicked internally by a small (but huge?) human who is apparently wearing pointy shoes (even when the baby has hiccups now it's a big deal), and the ever-increasing BH contractions (will I ever get the real thing?), along with every other awesome symptom, I make for one big party animal. Seriously, if they talked a little more about what *really* happens to you when you get pregnant, we might have fewer teen moms.

But aside from all that, I am very ready to be done because everything is ready! Well, mostly. But they are things that can wait. 

We finished our Bradley class last Monday. It was pretty fun over all, and very educational. On the last day we did a "labor rehearsal" where we simulated labor by holding ice cubes and having very loud drum tracks playing (which actually had the unintended effect of making everybody all giggly). Then we used the time to practice a bunch of different methods of relaxation/comfort (which is how Bradley teaches you to deal with labor, unlike Lamaze, where it's all in your breathing). It was, like I said, rather fun. And Sam is now a card-carrying "person qualified to coach a woman in labor"! 

Because everyone is going to ask for proof if Sam tries to coach me...

Something I find a little funny is that people have started asking me if/when I'm going to be induced. The top two reasons I've gotten for this when I ask "why would I?" Are:

1. It's the holidays

2. Everybody gets induced

People have even thrown around the whole tax-benefit-for-the-year thing. Personally, I'm a little perplexed as to why I would want to be induced (I have a long list of reasons why it sounds like a horrible idea to me), but what confuses me even more is that people seem to be disregarding the baby's actual gestational age here...like shouldn't we only be induced out of medical necessity? My midwife (down to just the one, the second has taken an indeterminately long sabbatical and the new-hire midwife doesn't come on until February, when things slow down at the birth center) doesn't even consider induction until you are over 42 weeks. And I guess "they" (scientists?) are in the process of redefining the length of human gestation, since average is actually 41 weeks and 1 day (kill me now). So...just because a baby is "full term" and it's the holidays...? I am feeling I may be getting some people riled up now, so I'll quit while I'm ahead. But, in any case, I personally will not be inducing unless the baby stays cooking until the aforementioned time, which maybe people think is weird, but I don't. I shall abide myself in patience (meaning complaining but not doing anything other than that).

People also think it's weird that I'm not planning on getting an epidural or giving birth in a hospital, but I think I'll save that rant for post-birth just in case something happens and I need a hospital transfer.

Anywho. Babies. Having babies. Let's have a baby. Soon. (Please)

Here's a picture of my (seemingly...I'm unconvinced if I'm actually as big as I think I am) land mass of a self:

Lemon Squeezy

We've had an eventful-ish week. Not really all *good* events, but if life gives you lemons, make lemonade. Although sometimes you have enough to make lemonade and every other lemon-flavored recipe you have in your books. Woof.

So. Saturday I had my baby shower! It was fun to see and hang out with peeps, especially ones I haven't seen in a while (which, let's be honest, is everyone, because I get out of the house all of never). The food was supah tasty (thank you Megan!) and I was given enough baby shampoo to keep the baby clean til she's in high school. Anyway, I'm so grateful to my family for taking care of putting it on for me. Yay!

Sadly this is the only picture I took at the shower...not even related, but I find it hilarious.

That night I slept basically not at all because I was so worried about being able to afford the baby (sometimes I wonder why these things strike me in the middle of the night...unfair), so Sunday was a very tiring day. We went up to Midway that evening to have dinner with Sam's parents, which was tasty and fun. We watched "His Girl Friday," which I love, and had homemade apple pie. Sam also had a large glass of eggnog (this is relevant). Then we went home and went to bed.

Somewhere between 12:30 and 1am of "Monday" I woke up to Sam being extremely sick to his stomach. Ordinarily, whatever, except that I have never known Sam to be sicker with anything than a cold. We brushed it off for the time being, until it happened again...and again, and again, and again. Etc. Food poisoning, likely from that dang eggnog. I made him call into work when he hit 13 times by 6:45 in the morning. Seriously, stop being tough and just take a sick day. Although I'm glad he's so...dedicated? Anyway, the day proceeded on with Sam throwing up every 10-30 minutes all friggin day. We were able to get him to the doctor in the afternoon and they gave him a shot, which did nothing. Things progressed from bad to worse to worst, and by 12:30am Tuesday he told me he was done and wanted to give up, something that I never want to hear him say again, lemme tell you. It was really hard to see him like that. He literally looked like a carcass, and was having issues every 5-15 minutes. I told him to hang in there and went back to bed. About 30 seconds later some voice or something popped into my head and said very firmly: "Take him to the hospital right now." It was weird. So I got up and we left. Who knows what would've happened if I'd ignored that. Probably nothing. But we are both glad that I didn't. We got to the ER and didn't have to wait at all. They immediately got an IV into him and more nausea meds, and he fell asleep at last. We were there for a few hours while I took care of his insurance stuff and he got a few liters of fluids and some much-needed rest. The doctor told us he had probably ingested staphylococcus bacteria in the eggnog. Then we went home.

The next day was better in that he was no longer throwing up, but he couldn't stay awake long enough to answer a yes-or-no question, let alone drink anything, so it was another (though not nearly as) difficult day. In fact, the whole experience was a little traumatizing for me (see above about him never ever being sick). 

At this point, the dryer broke while I was doing laundry in an attempt to clean up. It just stopped working in the middle of a cycle. Fortunately, Sam's mom was super charitable and came by to take our wet clothes to the laundromat so I didn't have to. She even helped make the bed, which is a challenge when your bed is low and your stomach is huge.

Wednesday Sam had the day off at Vivint, and Dominos told him to go home because he looked "like crap, why did you even come in?" So we went down to the doctor to get an excuse note for Vivint in case there was a problem with his absence, then went to drop it off at the call center.

When we got there, we found out he'd been fired. That's right. Why? Because he didn't show up or call in on Tuesday, and he had called in on Monday. It's a process I could explain, but it's stupid, so I won't. After several minutes of negotiating and waving the hospital discharge papers and the doctor's note in their face, they finally hired him back, with the caveat that if ANYTHING at all happens again in the next three months, he's gone for good. Nice. Especially since I'm having a baby in a month or two. He can't call in, he can't be late for work, he can't be late coming back from a break (we're talking seconds or minutes here), he can't leave early without prior approval, etc etc. It's pretty lame.

So...we are adding job hunting to the to-do list again. Le sigh.

Anyway, on a happier note, Sam is extremely chipper and bouncy now that he's feeling all better, and we are going to be able to go see Catching Fire tonight for free because Vivint gave out tickets to their employees (or rather, one ticket, but Sam's coworker just had a baby so he gave him his unused one). If only they'd be more generous or understanding in dealing with their employees, instead of offering these "perks" to keep them content...

I'm kind of excited for the movie, even though it's really difficult to sit in a chair like that for so long with a melon-sized squirmy alien entity inside me. Ugh.

But! I'm super excited and feeling quite ready for the baby to come. We have basically finished the nursery prep (although she won't be in there for a couple months after she's born, it's something to DO). And I'm collecting the last bits of things that I'll need. I have like 50 lists. I told Sam I need to hurry up and get everything ready so I can sleep since these things keep me up at night. He just raised an eyebrow and said something about "nesting." Pshaw.

There. Proof I have actually been hard at work...sort of.

Anyway, so that about covers what's been happening around here lately. Next week is Thanksgiving, but Sam has to work in the hopes that he will get to have Christmas off. Boo.

And! We are down to a  3-to-9-week-away window for the "safe zone" of the baby being born! Eep!

News: Colonel Meow is very sick! What will the world do if he dies? ]:<

Boo-Radley and the Dreamweaver

I'm now 30.3 weeks. About 3/4 of the way done, or, between 6-12 weeks left! And ready to be done. But I'm also willing to put up with the last of it because I have to and because, as Sam likes to say, "if you take a pizza out of the oven before it's done, you get a gooey pizza, and no one likes a gooey pizza!" (his pizza analogies have increased since he started working at Domino's after work). And I really do hate gooey pizza. So disappointing.

But I take comfort in the fact that we *are* almost done, and that this part of being pregnant has the potential to be the most exciting part, what with the baby room prep, baby shower coming up, birth class in full swing, etc etc.

What birth class you say? Well how kind of you to ask! Sam and I are taking a Bradley Method class that finishes right before Christmas. We are almost halfway through the series, which feels like the apocalypse is right around the corner when I think about it. It's a super interesting class though. We spend most of the time talking about physiological changes, what happens in the different stages of labor, and what we can do with nutrition and "exercise" to make the pregnancies healthy and reduce our need for medically-necessary interventions (ooh yeah, I'm using the jargon)!

We also spend a good portion practicing relaxation techniques (my favorite part, obv). We also occasionally watch birth or birth-related videos. Not the gnarly kind though. Just enough gnarl to be real, but not like quease-inducing.

It's a pretty fun class, and there are a few other couples in it who are also in our prenatal class at the Birth Center, so that's kind of fun (plus our Bradley teacher is also our prenatal class teacher). My only complaint is that while it feels good to tailor-sit (sitting in chairs is so totally taboo in the birthing world), doing it for 2.5 hours with a basketball taped to your front is a wee bit uncomfortable after a while. But apparently so is labor, so I'll pretend it's like practice.

So, besides feeling like I'm channeling a pinniped, I still feel pretty good. Well, ok, I'm tired all the time (sleep for longer than 3-4 hours at a time is almost impossible) and I still have bad pelvic pain, especially after the 5k I walked last weekend...that'll probably be the last 3+ miles I walk this year (time to see the chiropractor I suppose). But overall, I'm not feeling too shabby. 

My dreams have been getting a little freakier and more baby-related too. I've dreamed a couple of times that I looked down and the baby was pressing her face through my skin, à la this poor fellow...

The other night I dreamed I gave birth to a kitten, and I picked it up and snuggled it (and thankfully didn't nurse...what is it with my family and dreaming while pregnant about nursing cats?). Another night I dreamed the baby was kicking so much (and pushing her face through my skin again) that I decided to "take her out" for a while. So I walked around holding her and she got comfortable. I remember she was very pink (but not freaky pink), completely bald, and had a face like an alien. But somehow it was still cute. Then I decided I needed to carry some stuff I was thinking of buying (did I mention this was at a store? Yeah), so I put her back in, by stuffing her under my shirt, after which she dissolved back into the uterus. It was really, really weird. I was relieved to wake up and find it was fake, let me tell you.

Supposedly pregnancy-induced dreams are supposed to be über vivid and realistic. While I've definitely found that to be true, I think I've been getting cheated a little bit. Aside from the freaky baby dreams I mentioned above, I've been having awesomely detailed dreams featuring such mundane topics as shopping at Costco (after which I woke up and wondered why we didn't actually have any food yet), explaining Sam's bizarre pajama-storage habits to my mom, and other scintillating topics. Give me a break. I had more exciting dreams before I was pregnant.

Well, there's not much else to update on, baby-related or not. Nothing interesting ever happens around here, I can tell you that. I'll let you know when it does.

Oh, and in case you never see me in person or have a generally morbid curiosity (or if you're eager to determine for yourself if it really *does* look like I've swallowed a watermelon), here's a picture of me in all my olive-on-a-toothpick glory

(featuring the clown shirt that thankfully I've now outgrown and won't feel obligated to wear for at least 2 months):

It's a Cecret

A couple of weeks ago we hiked with a couple of friends in our ward at church. We did a relatively easy hike near Alta up to a lake called Cecret Lake.

It was really a beautiful hike, and while I was exhausted for days afterward (to be expected maybe), we were really glad to get outside and enjoy ourselves before the weather turns too cold (which apparently it already has...three nights ago it was too hot to sleep and now we need three blankets on the bed. What the heck?) Plus, it was fun :)

Anyway, if you're looking for a local hike you should totes do this one!

Inner Cordage Offer Groin Murder

Oook, I've finally given in and decided to write one of those ubiquitous posts about being pregnant that make people simultaneously want to slap the writer and rub their hands together with excitement. There are just some things you need to write down. I'm keeping a private journal of updates and such to give to the kid later down the road (my mom did this with us and I have loved rereading it every so often). Even so, it's not like I can write "Dear Baby, today you inadvertently caused my stomach acid to burn a hole through my brain stem." Some things you just can't let your poor future offspring know.

So here you go.  Today(ish) I am 24 weeks. I have 2ish (depending on who you ask) weeks left before I hit the 3rd trimester.  I won't regale you with my multitudinous symptoms, but there are two that plague me most. 

The first actually just started about a week ago: the vilest of heartburns that radiates up to my earlobes. And it's not like I need to cut back on the chiles: water does the trick just fine. So does being hungry...which I often am. Ugh.  

The second has been around since about week 13ish, and is slowly getting worse: Symphysis Pubis Dysfunction. Ahem. Everybody get out your anatomical skeleton models. Now, see all the parts where the two illia and the sacrum join? Now imagine someone is trying to pry those joinders  apart with a clam knife. Or a hacksaw, you pick. Now imagine that's what you feel when you sleep, turn over, stand up, walk, put your pants on, stand on one leg, ride a horse, make toast, pick your nose (just kidding, who does that psh), etc. You get the idea.

Other than those things and feeling really tired all the time, I can't (well, let's be honest: I do) really complain. I generally get enough sleep despite the midnight pee breaks. I've gained 21 pounds from the beginning and have nary a stretch mark (knock on myself). Brag brag brag.

My favorite part is probably feeling the baby move. I don't find it creepy. I don't even mind when it wakes me up at night. It's the one sure fire way I have of knowing things are going OK in there, and I'm glad to feel it. Maybe ask me again in another couple of months when the baby is so big it looks and feels like an alien is about to burst forth from my abdomen.

We did get the official results back from our ultrasound a few weeks ago. I think I already mentioned the babe is a girl. The scan also showed all the appropriate number of vessels, chambers, limbs, facial orifices, etc. So everything is just swell. Bonus: she's measuring a little big (hence many of the "ish"-s).

Helloooo baby...

I do feel like "a legitimate sort of huge truck" (come on guys, watch The Hot Rock a few dozen more times), but considering how big I know I'll be later on, I really can't complain. I'll be full term December 14th-ish, so the holidays are going to be just one huge partay.

From a couple of weeks ago (I'm making a slightly less horrible face than the one from this week).

And that's about it for now. I'll bore you with the deets on our upcoming childbirth classes and such later.

Side note:  if I read one more birth story that says the baby "gave a lusty cry" I'm going to give someone a lusty sock in the face.

Also: whoever said none of your hair ever falls out when you're pregnant can go chew on the huge wad that comes as a result of my daily shower.

Man I'm bitter...

Free Love, Baby

I'm almost embarrassed writing this because it's pretty dorky, but with so many people I know right now being pregnant, I figured someone out there could probably use this information to their advantage. And hey, everybody loves free stuff.

So. We are kind of doing this whole "baby thing" on a pretty minimalist budget. Anything we cant afford, we will simply do without.  Fact: it builds character to grow up sleeping in a cardboard box.

We have accumulated a rather small pile of stuff so far, and all of it, outside of a few items we bought "in case of accidents" right after we got married (mostly baby-related medical stuff and a few basic clothes), has been free. 

I took advantage of a free clothing swap my church hosted last month to get more neutral-ish clothes, including some awesome bunting from Baby Gap that still had tags! I'm pretty proud of that one.

Anyway, out of curiosity I started looking around for other possible free stuff for babies that didn't require I sell my soul (or email/mailing address) to the devil, and I discovered the magical gift bags that many baby-related stores hand out like fliers for a blood drive. We've gotten a whole bunch of free stuff this way, and while I think we've pretty much exhausted our freebie resources (besides a few potentially sketchy online subscription freebie coupon-y things), I'm pretty pleased with the outcome.  And here I am to tell you all about it!

Keep in mind I hadn't actually intended to do this initially, so I didn't always keep everything.  Plus with the bucket loads of coupons and "magazines" and junk, there's always more than I'm showing here.

One of the first places I got free stuff from was Motherhood Maternity. I know this place is kind of expensive, but they *do* have the most comfortable maternity jeans known to mankind, so if you're going to get a pair, just get one from here and you're all set. Also keep in mind I think this is only in-store.  Anyway, they send you off with a packet of free goodies, coupons, samples, etc.  What you see here is pretty much all I kept, so you decide if it's worth it.

(I'm doing this on my phone and it usually throws all the pictures to the end, so if you don't see it here, scroll down and see... Pic 1)

That's a 5oz "natural style" Avent bottle (similar to the Tommee Tippee style if you know it).  Ah, free things.

I think I also got similar coupon-y things and a little bottle of Palmer's Shea Lotion for stretch marks for 50¢ from Zulilly.

The most awesome packages, though, come when you start registries, which is pretty fun anyway, so this is really an all-win situation.

I had heard that Buy Buy Baby had the best freebie packets, so we went there first. I doubt anyone will ever even look at my registry at that store, and we only put like 10 things on it anyway since we were mostly there for the free stuff.  But if you can get past the slightly ridiculous store name, hide your face and go in, because the gift bag really is worth it.

(Pic 2)

I didn't even keep all the samples because they weren't relevant (ie little toddler fruit snacks), but there were seriously a bunch, including a few "mom-related" ones that aren't pictured here.  The bottle is another 5oz natural Avent bottle, but I had to mail in for it using a voucher that came in the bag.  It takes a long time to come, FYI, so forget it if you're impatient.

Target also has pretty decent gift bags. Not nearly as much stuff, but still some cool things.  We actually ended up getting two of these because we went back to another Target to add a carseat/stroller thing that they didn't have at the other one, and the lady (perhaps because she was distracted) gave us another packet. But they had different stuff in them, so I'm not complaining.

(Pic 3&4)

Things of note in the first one: lion teething toy, Mam pacifier, diaper samples, and the blue thing is a refill for a diaper genie, which we aren't getting, but we can still use it I'm sure.

In the second one: diaper samples, and a 5oz Tommee Tippee bottle-- I have to say, most excellent. I now have 3 little bottles of super quality and didn't pay for them. Other than the bottle, this bag was pretty scant. Maybe they spent their budget on the bottles.

Anyway, last of all is Babies R Us. I was pretty disappointed by this one. 

(Pic 5)

Yep, that's it.  Wipes and milk storage bags. They also gave us a couple of sample parenting magazines, but who cares about those, really? Oh, and there was a mail-in offer for a free little cooler thing to carry bottles in on-the-go, but obviously I haven't gotten it yet. Hopefully it arrives before this baby graduates high school.

But the store we went to was also having a little game thing at the time (not sure if it's all stores though), where you got a little plastic tote thing  with formula in it if you registered for 150 items in one go.

Of course, we took that as a challenge and pulled it off (umm...nobody look at that registry until I remove all the extra sippy cups and superfluous electronics, mmkay?). But what we didn't realize was that the formula (which we were planning to save as emergency food storage for the baby), was two 32oz cans of liquid formula, which expires a week before the baby's due date.  So I guess if you're going to try for that one, don't get overexcited until you know exactly what's being offered (and we ended up giving it to my aunt, so someone still wins).

(Pic 6)

So I guess that's it. My recommendation is to register anywhere and everywhere (although I don't think Walmart does gift bags, if they do, tell me, and I have found my weekend entertainment), even if you don't plan on telling anyone about the registry, because hey, free stuff. In fact maybe you don't even have to be pregnant yet...no one has to know...

The Inexpert

Last week, I went to Oregon with some of my family to celebrate my half-sister Ellen's marriage, and we also got to swing by my uncle's house on Sunday to spend the day with them.

We went to church with their family, and my cousin asked me to go with her to the teenager class, so I did.  The lesson was on dating standards, and therefore simultaneously interesting and awkward.

Why awkward?  Because, being the only person in the room besides the teacher old enough to date, and being married on top of it, I was asked to give "expert insight" on the matter.  And I certainly have never considered myself an expert in dating-- ha!

Afterward, I went for a walk with a couple of my cousins, and talked about how funny the lesson had been for me, especially since I'm really not the best example for successful dating.  One (or both) of them made a comment about how I must've done something right, because here I am, married with a baby (actually, the term used was "possible velociraptor") on the way.

The comment kind of took me aback.  I suppose to someone who doesn't know my whole life story (and believe me, nobody would want to), it might appear like I've had some kind of success in the dating-people world.  But I honestly look back and proverbially face-palm myself as I watch how I stumbled and flopped around like a fish out of water at any and all attempts at romance.  I think the only reason I ended up married is because I figured out the one thing that works: I stopped trying.  And it helped that Sam had incidentally stopped trying at the same time, we became friends, and one thing led to another.

I wasn't "dating" anybody.  I wasn't looking for romance at ALL, you can ask Sam.  It was more that I noticed that trying so hard to be "happy" was making me incredibly UN-happy, and so it was time to quit.

In the time I took to really, legitimately, stop caring about all that stuff, I was probably the happiest I'd ever been.  Being alone, being comfortable with yourself-- that's one of the best feelings there is.  I became more confident and more "me", and that, surprisingly (or not so), attracted someone.  And I put up a bit of a fight, until I realized that while it was good to be alone, I really did want to have someone to be myself with (if that makes sense), so if there was an opportunity where I wasn't making a complete fool of myself, I ought to take it.  Plus, even if you do marry someone, you still need to be comfortable spending time alone with yourself.

Be happy to spend time alone

But that's beside the point.  The point is, I never dated.  I had a few set-up dates, and one date where I plucked up the courage to ask someone out, but nobody was ever interested in asking *me* out.  And everyone I ever "dated" was lame for one reason or another, ie not letting me put my feet on the dashboard, telling me to pick a radio station and then changing it to country after I'd settled, not wanting to talk to me when certain people were around, way more seriously lame reasons, etc.  Boys are fools.  Well, girls are too.

I'm not really sure who I'm writing this for.  So if you get something from it, awesome.  Otherwise, I think it's just to point out something that is kind of hard to see until you step back afterward and realize: "Huh.  I guess I didn't need to stress myself out and try so hard and drive myself into depression trying to make sense of it all, because, well, it doesn't make sense.  And when you quit trying, that's when it comes together."

Of course, this isn't true for everybody.  But I still think it's pretty true.  So stop worrying about it.  If it happens, it happens.  If not, you can still be pretty dang happy.

Sharing Different Heartbeats

The jig seemed to be up a long time ago, but I guess if this is the first you're hearing of it, here you go: at the turn of the year some time, I will be giving birth to a baby. It's going to be all exciting with fireworks and horns and 21-gun-salutes and whatnot, I assure you.

We won't know whether it is a boy or a girl until approximately August 27th at 3:30pm MDT, but you are free to speculate, place bets, etc (as long as all winnings go to me).

Sam is very, very excited to be a father. He has been a good sport about making sure he is at all the appointments and has even voluntarily read a parenting book. It's kind of cute, but naturally I would think that. 

As for me, I'm 15 weeks and starting to show a little bit, but I still mostly feel like I look like Senor Cardgage (n00bs watch this: http://youtu.be/87T6jIK9QZg ).

But, it's better than a beer belly and a combover, because the baby is adorable. We watched it kicking and punching and battling a fierce case of the hiccups at our last ultrasound, and we all had a funny laugh at the babe's expense.

That *about* sums it up!

PS I have some cute/hilar pictures of both Sam's and our families' reactions (via Skype) when I/we told them the news, but we don't have Internet and they're on my computer, so that'll have to wait. In the mean time, here is a slightly recent (maybe 2 weeks ago) photo of cross-eyed moi:

Lately I've Been Thinkin'

Hidey ho!  It seems like everyone is updating their blogs today, so I'll jump on the bandwagon.

Not a lot has been happening around these parts, at least not really.  We're all moved in to our new place, and pretty much everything is unpacked.  It still doesn't feel at all like our home though, partly, I think, because:

A. There is nothing hanging on any of the walls (I'm kind of waiting for either inspiration or money to paint a couple of the rooms so they aren't hideously brown)

B. We don't have anywhere to sit.  Actually, we have a deskchair and a plastic tub that we use to sit around the dinner table.  That's it.

C. Sam and I are never home at the same time.  We see each other in the morning for an hour or two before I head to work, and occasionally, if I finish at work early, for a few minutes before he heads out the door for his night shift.  His schedule becomes more human next week though, so hopefully that will get better soon.

Anyway.  So the house isn't really news, plus it's boring.

But last week we were able to take a trip out to Connecticut one last time before Sam's parents make the move to Utah.  We had a lot of fun out there, but it was really, really hot.  We had a few parties and a lot of guests and everything was totally cray-cray, but it was fun.  I'll miss being able to visit the east coast sometimes, but it'll be nice for Sam's parents to be close for the time remaining we have in Utah.

Also, my parents moved up here!  I'm okay with it as long as I don't think about growing up in a house that no longer belongs to anyone.  But I have the memories, and that's enough.  Plus, I'm really happy that my parents get to be up here all the time.  It's like a party 24/7 (not really, but you know).  Hopefully their house will be built by Christmas, so they can move out of my Grandparents' basement and things will be more normal.  But for now, I'm just excited to have them here :)

Hopefully there will be more exciting stuff the next time I blog.  Until then, here is a smattering of photos I took while we were our visiting last week:

Glad Dad Tie Fad

Hopefully this post will be a little less...disturbing...than my last.

I kind of wish I didn't first think to write this this morning, but maybe now this can make Father's Day like a 2-day party, kind of like the Olympics (which is way longer than two days, but whatever).

I just wanted to jot down some thoughts about the father-y figures in my life, because I think they're all a little under-appreciated.  Or something.  Oh, and I know several people who either never knew their dad, or their dads maybe weren't quite who they could've been, but I think it's important to recognize all father-figures, and even just great men in our lives.  And not like in an all-potential-fathers-stand-up-in-church-for-a-free-cookie type of way, but you know.  La di da.

So here we go.  In chronological order of when I met them:

1. My Dad.

Dad and my half-sibs, as they are wont to do

He is smart, he is patient, and he always makes us laugh.  He's just a silly person.  He cares for his family and loves his children.  I love that he was able to spend so much time with us as kids, racing us up the driveway, taking us on delivery trips to the Bay Area (usually just one-on-one), dancing with us in the kitchen, etc.  He taught us to do so many practical things (he's a great teacher).  He makes the best orange juice.  His nursery made sure we all had our first paying job by the time we were like 6 years old.  And he taught us a lot about caring for plants.  Bonus: I've been able to impress countless people by saying things like "Oh, that's a Phoenix Canariensis."  He encouraged us to try hard things and to keep up with music practice of all sorts.  And best of all, he put up with the antics of his insane children.  I'm very grateful for that-- even though it's partly his fault that we are that way...heh heh.

2. My Grandpa.

Gazing into the beautiful future...

My Grandpa is the best grandpa around.  He's the only grandfather I've ever known (my dad's dad died when he was very young).  He's the father of 9 kids, 40-something grandkids, a dozen or so great-grandkids, and every young person who has ever met him.  He's a very loving, kind, smart, funny man, and is a very hard worker.  He's 80-something years old, and I'm pretty sure he works as hard today as he did any other day of his life when he's asked to help out.  He's a very patient man.  He gives the best hugs, and means every second of every squeeze.  I can see the happiness and love in his eyes when he puts his hands on my cheeks and smiles at me.  I hope he sticks around for a while :)

3. My Husband.

I guess he also complained on this day, but that's because it was 14* F.  Sam, don't be mad about this picture, I can't stop laughing, and you want me to be happy, right?!

I know, Sam's not a father yet.  But like I said earlier, great men too.  Sam is a great man.  I don't think he gets told enough.  He is one of the most patient people I have ever met.  He's very intelligent, and remembers every iota of information he's ever read, probably (unless it's music lyrics).  He is a quiet and diligent worker.  Only once in all my time knowing him have I seen him frustrated from not getting recognition for what he'd done, and it was only when he really deserved it.  He loves people, and treats everyone like family or a close friend (one of the things that initially caught my attention was his willingness to give up something he had to help himself just so someone else could be comfortable, without being asked or even prompted).  Most of all, he loves me, more than anything.  He would do anything for me, and does, without ever complaining.  I definitely need to work on a thing or two to live up to his example.  He's a funny person, and he listens to me.  He's great with kids too, as long as he doesn't frighten them with his beard (it is getting kind of mountain-man-y).

4. My Father-in-Law.

Frameable.

Sam's dad is pretty cool.  I think I lucked out getting such great in-laws.  Sam's dad is a very intelligent man who works hard in everything he does.  He seems to go all-in with pretty much everything he's interested in.  He takes care of his family, loves his children, and really loves his wife.  He's a great grounder.  He likes to try new things, and learn about everything.  And according to his kids he's "pretty fit" and "hip" for being 52.  Best of all, he raised Sam (those other kids too, but you know...).  Sam loves his dad and looks up to him.  Every time Sam gets excited about something happening to him, one of the first things he wants to do is tell his dad.  Sam is also a lot like his dad, in a lot of ways.  And I am grateful that a great person was the one to raise him.