New Mommy Moments

In October 2013, I paid my dues and joined the New Mommy club. Early membership wasn’t so easy-peasy, though it did come with perks. Some words that come to mind in describing it are zombie, tiny tot, poop, advice, and blessings.

My First Weeks as a Zombie
Actually, zombies are probably more mobile than I was those first few weeks. At least I assume so; otherwise there's no point fearing a zombie apocalypse. But I felt drained and lifeless like a zombie, simply going through the motions to keep myself in decent shape. I had little desire to eat, and even getting up and using the restroom was an ordeal that took energy. I spent all my time on the couch with Ari. I hardly said a word to her those first few weeks, and wondered if I was a bad mother.

The part of New Mommyhood that I’d heard the most about was sleep deprivation. Though I tried to be ready for it, that’s what took the greatest toll on me. At first it was waking up several times a night. Then it was Ari waking at 3:00am and staying awake for THREE hours. I made it worse by staying with Ari in the nursery the whole time trying to get her to sleep. Wasn’t until later that I realized, Eureka! I can take her into the living room with me and watch TV shows on Netflix to pass the time. Netflix saved my sanity more than once.

Sleep deprivation isn’t the only energy-stealer. Devoting complete attention every minute of the day to a little being that is totally dependent on me creates a level of fatigue that I never experienced before becoming a mom. When Clayton watches Ariana and frees my attention to go elsewhere, I feel a huge wall lift off my shoulders. It’s the reason why new moms can do nothing but watch their babies all day and still be exhausted when night comes. We’re always holding up the wall so it doesn’t fall down on our little ones.

My Own Tiny Tot
One of the greatest perks of New Mommyhood was having my own baby. I could probably count the times on one hand that I’d held a baby for longer than three minutes prior to having Ari. I was always shy about asking if I could hold a baby, and didn’t like to compete against other family members of the baby who also wanted the opportunity. I longed for a baby I could hold whenever I wanted.

I wanted to have that awesome mommy sense of knowing how to calm my baby and take care of her needs. (Not that I always know how to do that, but definitely more than before!) I also wanted to not be afraid of changing a baby’s outfit or giving her a bath. Seriously, before Ari, I had this fear of changing her outfit and getting her head or limbs stuck in the clothes or something. I overcame that fear in about two days, during which I changed her onesie at least six times.

Another perk was her newborn size. Only during those first few months was Ari small enough to cuddle and sleep on my chest. Those moments were priceless.

Poop and Baby Bodily Fluids
The first time Ari squirted poop at us, Clayton and I were changing her diaper together as adorable new parents. We freaked and grabbed the diaper but it came so fast, there was nothing we could do! So we just laughed. That’s really all you can do. Another time, I was changing Ari on the ottoman. The poop exploded out of her like a missile, hitting the ottoman, my shirt, my pants, the couch, a blanket on the couch, and my phone. Tired and not very mobile, I spent a grumpy 45 minutes cleaning it all up. Then I cuddled my baby who looked as cute and innocent as ever, and I couldn’t stay grumpy. But I never stopped wondering how such a tiny person could shoot poop so far from her bum.

We got pooped on plenty of times, but most of the time when her diaper was off, pee was the problem. I knew you had to watch out when changing baby boys. No one told me about girls. The fluid would flow from her like a fountain, and it happened over and over and over. Soon it was a game trying to get her diaper changed before she peed, or opening her diaper to let the cold air in and trick her into peeing before the diaper came off.

Like most normal people, I’m pretty averse to bodily fluids. I’d see a mom wipe the snot away from her kid’s nose and just think, “Oh eww. Is that what I want for my future?” The idea of being covered in spit-up or baby drool made me squirm. Now I’m hardly fazed by baby bodily fluids and I’m an expert at removing poop stains from clothes--a couple more perks of being in the New Mommy club.

Advice--Rule or Guideline?
I knew beans about babies. Knowledge is my friend in any situation, so I asked friends and family a zillion questions and Googled things like crazy. It rocked that I could research anything about babies even at 4:30 in the morning. In thirty seconds I’d know, “Oh, okay, hiccups that last for 20 minutes is normal. Cool.”

But there was, ahem, a hiccup in my hunt for knowledge. How could I know when advice was more of a rule...or a guideline?

For example:
1. A new baby should dirty/wet a certain number of diapers per day.
2. A new baby should eat 10-15 minutes per side (breast) each feeding session.

Number 1 is a rule: if the baby isn’t doing that, it’s time to call the pediatrician.

Number 2, apparently, is a guideline: Ariana never ate for more than 10-15 minutes total. In fact, we were lucky if we got her past 10 minutes. We tried everything to keep her awake and eating. Nothing worked, and the only reason we didn’t call the pediatrician was because she was satisfying the rule of Number 1, and had the right amount of dirty diapers a day. At her two-week appointment, Ari had grown from 5 pounds 15 ounces to 7 pounds 2 ounces. The pediatrician was a little amazed, and said I must be making a ton of milk or something. Since I wasn’t doing anything special to make that happen, I was just glad Ari was getting enough food.

There is no rhyme or reason why some things work for some babies, but not for others. There’s no rhyme or reason why something will work for a while for one baby, then stop working. The phrase every mother knows is “every baby is different.” When we mothers give advice, we’re usually offering the tips that worked for our babies. These tips are guidelines, not rules (most of the time), because though they worked for us, that doesn't mean they'll work for someone else’s baby. All I could do--and can do for probably, like, the rest of my life when it comes to my offspring--is try different advice and see what works. We mothers are pros with experimentation.

Luck and Blessings
I always feel bad saying something like, “I’m so blessed because my baby’s an awesome sleeper,” almost as if I’m implying that another mom is not blessed because her baby isn’t. When it comes to things like that, I feel more like it’s luck. You can take thirty moms who do the exact same strategy with their babies and probably get at least 20 or so different results. (This statistic came from my head, in case anyone wanted to cite it.) It’s a combination of genetics and luck, pretty much. Ariana takes a pacifier, and I didn’t hypnotize her or anything to get her to take it; she just did. Luck.

But undeniably, there have been--and continue to be--blessings from a loving Heavenly Father, and they come in many forms. Take Day 1 with Ariana. She stayed an extra night at the hospital because they had tested her for something and needed to make sure she didn’t have something bad, etc. etc. I decided to come home and enjoy my last baby-free night in a long time. So all that night, Ari was at the hospital eating formula. I guess it filled her more than I ever dreamed it would. I brought her home the next morning, my first day as a brand-spanking new mom, and was prepared to feed her. She slept, almost literally, the whole day. I couldn’t get her to eat for more than five minutes at a time. By that night, she hadn’t eaten more than 30 minutes’ worth of food all day long.

I panicked and about had a breakdown. Why wasn’t she eating? How could it be healthy to eat so little? Clayton and my mom tried to assure me that things were okay, but I didn’t listen. I made Clayton call the emergency pediatric peeps, who told me that as long as she had enough wet and dirty diapers, she was all right. We put her to sleep in her bassinet in the room across from ours. But I couldn’t calm down. Finally, Clayton gave her a Priesthood blessing, which was also a blessing for me. My anxiety and fear dissolved into an overwhelming peace. I went to sleep believing that things would be okay--and they were. Also, following that day, I never had reservations about Ari not sleeping in our bedroom. I didn’t realize until later that that was kind of unusual.

I must say, peace is one of God’s greatest blessings. Left on my own, there’s no way I could calm the natural fears that I experience from time to time. Blessings also come as an extra bit of energy here, an unexpected moment of understanding there, or even as a smile and laugh from Ari when I need her beautiful joy the most.

Taking the Bun out of the Oven

Before there was Active Labor, there was Almost Labor
Had I been a cavewoman living in the primitive and drugless past when I started my contractions, I probably would’ve been contracting for days. Since that’s not the case, I lasted for only 27 hours before I went to the hospital seeking morphine.

Here’s “Almost Labor” in a nutshell:

1. 11 days before Ari’s due date, I start contracting at 5:00am on a Friday morning. I dub these contractions “almost labor” because they hurt, the pain wraps around from my back to my front, and they won’t go away. The only reason it’s not active labor is because the contractions aren’t less than 15-20 minutes apart.

2. Can’t sleep. I try to defeat the contractions with Tylenol, milk, and Harry Potter. Nothing works. I can still sorta function, so I go about my day, contracting at least three or more times every hour.

3. Sunrise the following morning on Saturday: still sleep deprived and now doubling over from the pain. We go to the hospital.

4. I wasn’t expecting to stay and get the party going--and I don’t. They deem me not in active labor. Doc gives the green light for morphine. I rejoice.

5. Nurse says morphine lasts 6 hours unless it relaxes the muscles and speeds up the contractions. Doc says he wouldn’t be surprised if I came back later that day in active labor. I’m like, for reals? Are you kidding me?

6. Morphine is crazy. I feel light and heavy at the same time. But I can finally take a painless nap after 30 straight hours of contracting.

Now it’s Active Labor
7. Two hours later, I wake up to one really bad contraction, and my water, like, half-breaks. I take care of that. Then I throw up. The contractions come back worse than before. I throw up again.

8. Contractions are less than 5 minutes apart! Party time. I throw up outside the car. We hit every single red light on State Street. I squirm and squeal in the seat and try not to wish an evil curse to befall every driver in our way.

9. We arrive!

The Magical Epidural
I don’t know how I could have survived labor contractions without the epidural. By the time the anesthesiologist came I was moaning, curling into a ball, and violently shivering with every contraction. They told me the shivering was normal and happens to a lot of women. That’s when I started getting the idea that there’s a lot more to this whole labor/childbirth thing than people tell you. Although, movies do make it look pretty painful--I guess that’s all I needed to know.

I asked if they could give me the epidural while I was shivering. At first they said yes. But ‘twas not meant to be. I’m a petite little lady, and he only had a teeny tiny space to work with in my back. I found out later that he actually stabbed me three times with the needle trying to make it work. I didn’t even notice because it felt like a mere pinprick compared to the agony of contractions. In the end, he said I had to be perfectly still. He’d work on my back, then when I started shaking, everyone would sit back and wait for the contraction to be over.

At last the epidural took effect, feeling like a cold liquid metal filling my back and lower half, followed by a wonderful numbness. It was amazing to look at the monitor, see the line spike to indicate a contraction, and not feel a thing. Such a thing of beauty.

The Waiting Game
Not much happened for hours after that. I slept and Clayton hung out with my parents. The rest of my water broke. I got a fever, which they quickly subdued with antibiotics. I never lost 100% control of my limbs; I could still help the nurse a tiny bit when she moved my legs from side to side.

I was really proud of having some control over my limbs, until I realized later that my body burns through painkillers pretty fast. They have a button you can press to keep the numbness going if feeling starts to come back. It didn’t work for me. Twice the anesthesiologist himself had to come in and inject more painkiller stuff into me because I was starting to feel the contractions again.

I dilated like a pro for most of the labor. Everyone started to get excited as we approached 7. My mom said that usually the last few inches are dilated the fastest. I reached 8. Then 9. Then...still 9.

My contractions slowed to more than 5 minutes apart. It took hours to dilate from 9 to 10. I laid there and tried to send mental messages to my body: whoa, you’re not done yet! Keep a'going! Then I wondered, well geez, did my baby get cold feet, and change her mind about coming out? They gave me Pitocin to see if it would help, but that affected baby’s heartbeat, so they stopped. It was a very anti-climatic ending to hours of labor.

Taking the Bun out of the Oven
Active labor lasted from about 4:00pm on Saturday to 2:00am on Sunday, when I finally dilated to a 10 and the time came to push. It was just me, Clayton, and an awesome nurse in the Operating Room because they wanted to check Ari’s breathing and her lung immediately after birth. (She’d had a cyst in there for a big chunk of the pregnancy.)

I was an awesome pusher; the nurse told me so. She even wrote that down in the notes on the monitor. My parents were in the other room and could see the same stuff on the monitor as we could in the O.R. After 40 minutes we were ready for the doc to come in and do his thing.

But of course...the doc was attending to someone else. We had to wait. The nurse said if this wasn’t my first baby, the baby would have come out already. Her words brought some small comfort. For 25 or more minutes, I laid there with a baby head putting horrible pressure on my lower half. All I wanted, more than anything, was for her to come out and that pressure to be gone.

At last the doc came. Only a few pushes later, I felt my baby’s joints and limbs pass through my torn and aching body. I got a glimpse of her little red body before they took her away and the doc started fixing me up.

When the Magic of the Epidural Ran Out
In movies (which are, you know, totally like real life) you don’t see women still crying after the baby comes out. Plus I had the epidural, so I was totally unprepared for the pain that followed the birth. I should have known that feeling her come out of me was a bad sign. I should have realized the relief from that horrible pressure--that I wanted so badly--never really came. As the doc worked, I started to feel, and it hurt. So. Bad. At one point I said, “It’s hurting.” It began as a throbbing ache, then became a very sharp throbbing ache. I said again, “It hurts.” The tears started flowing.

The doctor must have thought I was a wuss or something, because his way of testing my lack of numbness was by sticking the needle through my torn skin as he sewed me up and asking, “Did you feel that?” I cried out “Yes! YES!” and he sat back, finally accepting it, and we all waited for the anesthesiologist to come. It took forever. I clutched Clayton’s hand and just cried, cried, cried. It was probably the worst physical pain I've felt. At last the anesthesiologist came and gave me my third injection of painkiller stuff. I tried to feel the painkiller go through my body, tried to make the pain stop. Gradually it lessened and I calmed down. But even that injection didn’t numb me completely--they had to give me a local anesthetic as well before the doc could take care of everything.

Then, before I knew what was happening, Clayton was helping me sit up and placing a living, beautiful, swaddled newborn girl into my arms. I started to cry all over again, but as I did I whispered to my baby girl, “These are happy tears. Such happy tears.” In that moment I felt a powerful warmth and love touching my spirit, like I was holding a piece of Heaven. I chose one of two names we were considering and named our angel Ariana.

Every experience is different and I believe that the Lord doesn’t give us trials we can’t handle. My trial was strong but brief, and even stronger was the love I felt from Heavenly Father, and the love I felt for the new little being who had entered my life.

Pregnancy and Ariana's CCAM

The Jolly Weirdness of Pregnancy

For sure, being pregnant is not a walk in the park; it’s more of a waddle. I threw up a few times, was nauseous and uber tired, had a superhuman sense of smell, and sometimes had swollen squishy feet just like most women do. My tummy distorted in ways that would’ve been soooo unnatural if I wasn’t pregnant, though seeing it move and feeling the baby move inside was da bomb. Not your average experiences at all, but pretty normal for a pregnancy. 

I did have a few uncommon moments:

Bleeding gums and sores. So yeah, pregnancy can screw up the gums, and I didn’t know that. I hadn’t seen a dentist in years because I don’t get cavities. Enter the second trimester of pregnancy and whammo! I couldn’t brush anywhere without making my gums bleed. Then I got sores in the tissue around my gums. We lived in south San Francisco at this time, and because I was pregnant the dentist there didn’t want to use anesthesia while they cleaned the plaque out of my inflamed bleeding gums. It was the most painful teeth cleaning ever. I could really sympathize with people who fear the dentist.

Contemplating my fate...

Sleeping on an air mattress in high humidity. We slept on a raised air mattress for four months in California, and it really tested my sanity. First of all, it’s an air mattress--it’s not nice to anyone, especially pregnant ladies. I woke up constantly with aching joints and feeling like an old woman. (Even though I’ve never been an old woman…) Second of all, I grew up in Utah’s desert dryness, and we were living in one of the most humid places in the Bay area during the most humid time of the year. It was like crawling into a clammy sleeping bag on top of a lopsided rock with a warm basketball attached to my stomach. Then ten minutes later, my body heat turned the bag into a sweaty sauna. Returning to our real bed in the dry Utah air was one of the happiest days ever. I probably kissed the bed that day.

The CCAM: The Cyst in Ariana’s Lung

Early in my pregnancy, in Utah, the OBGYN told me that in a certain number of weeks it’d be time for the 20-week ultrasound. I got all excited. “We’ll learn the gender!”

She smiled and said, “Well, yes, and they’ll check to see that everything is anatomically sound.” Haha, like that’d be a problem, I thought.

Oh silly me.

We learned we were having a girl. Then my joy fell to pieces when they said the ultrasound was showing a bright spot in her lung. They didn’t know what it was, but it needed to be monitored, so I had to come back in another two weeks.

The possibility that something was wrong with my unborn baby weighed on me all that day. In one brief discouraging moment I thought, “Every pregnant woman I know seems to have a perfectly healthy baby. Of course I’d be the odd one out.” I got over the self-pity, but never once did I think, “At least it’s not a miscarriage.” It wasn’t until later that I realized how common miscarriages are, and heard stories of how heartbreaking they can be.

I find that bad situations are usually worse when I’m clueless about them, so I took to the Internet and Googled “bright spot on lung” etc. etc. I mostly found anecdotes from other mothers saying the bright spot was a cyst. The stories offered a huge comfort because pretty much all of them had a happy ending: the cyst grew bigger for a few weeks, then stopped growing and disappeared either before or shortly after birth. Also that day, someone from the ultrasound place called to talk with me about what was potentially wrong and how they would keep an eye on it. She gave me the same assurance that the problem usually went away on its own.

Thus followed a great medical journey. They confirmed it was a Congenital Cystic Adenomatoid Malformation (CCAM) in the lower lobe of the right lung. The ultrasound doc told me, “CCAMs aren’t rare, but they aren’t common.” It actually made sense to me. Indeed, when I returned to Utah, most of the ultrasound people there had never seen one before.

The nerve-wracking moments came during appointments when I was laying on the bed and the nurses were reading out the baby's measurements. They’d come to a spot and linger, or sound unsure, or say the doctor would need to take a look at something. I’d just stare at the ceiling and think, “What? What?!” There were two problems they were watching for. If the cyst--which was tissue taking up space in the lung that would not function like lung tissue--grew large enough to put pressure on her little heart while it was developing, her heart would be in trouble. The other problem could be a sequestration in which a blood vessel connected to the cyst. I asked the doc, “What can be done if either of those things happen?”

He said, “Fetal surgery.” They would do surgery on the baby while she was still in my womb.

Freaky weird.

There was literally nothing we could do except wait and pray. In between appointments I tried not to think about what we couldn’t control. Along the way we were blessed with tender mercies, like our baby being healthy in every way possible except for the silly cyst. I learned to be grateful that we live in a time where such medical intervention like fetal surgery is even possible. The doc was a charismatic and caring guy who made things fun with his obsession with taking ultrasound pics of baby feet. 

Feet!!!

The cyst did grow for several weeks, then just like in all those anecdotes, it slowly began to shrink as she grew bigger. A cardiologist took some ultrasounds of our baby’s heart and blood flow and everything looked great. The cyst was still there a week or so before she was born, so to take precautions, she was born in the Operating Room. Then we learned that the thing we were hoping for had happened: the cyst was gone. Good news like that calls for leaping into my husband’s arms and hugging him to death, but having just pushed a baby out of me, well, that didn’t happen. Plus the doctor told me the news at like five or something in the morning when I was half asleep and drugged up on painkillers. But we were so grateful that our CCAM story had a happy ending.

Adventures by the Bay

Time to update the blog with our California adventures. First, I'd like to point out some observations:

*If California had a state car, it'd be a Toyota Prius.

*Utah's not the only state with bad drivers.

*The foggiest months are June and July.

*Bridges are awesome unless we're crossing one by mistake (this only happened once).

*We could afford a small house in Utah for the price we're paying for a studio apartment here.

*The population is a lot more diverse than in Utah. We're right by a Chinese cemetery.

*People wait 30 minutes or more to go through a car wash.

By the Bay

So what to see, what to do? Well, there's the giant ocean that we drive by on our way to church every Sunday, no big deal...

Okay, it's awesome, when we can actually see it. Mornings are more fog-friendly than sun-friendly so the ocean hides from us a lot. But we did visit the beach on a couple sunny days. Trying to find parking was a nightmare; you literally need to stalk people who look like they're heading to their cars and getting ready to leave in order to find a spot. Probably took as long to park as it did to drive there. But once there, the beach was awesome--warm sun, perfect breeze, soft sand, handsome husband lying next to me. The ocean water was quite chilly on the toes.

We went to Pier 39 in San Francisco. From there we could see the bay, Alcatraz Prison in the distance, and lots of boats. I don't know my boat lingo, so here's my best description of one we saw: a huge sucker carrying stuff under the Bay Bridge. It was just cool because I'm used to trains and airplanes. Not ships. Speaking of planes, we live pretty close to the airport. Planes fly so low over us taking off that they look way huge. Sometimes the louder ones rattle the windows.

On another weekend we went to the Tech Museum. I don't remember many specifics, except that this was a very interactive place. Lots of touching of techie things. We also watched the new Star Trek: Into Darkness on a giant IMAX screen. That was a crazy experience. The massive screen was awesome, but the action-packed, extreme actor close-ups, rectangular movie was not designed for an IMAX screen. It was actually better in a regular theater.

Not exactly LEGOs, but we managed to build an airplane. So crafty.

The Great and Powerful Google

First, a clarification...

Clayton has a summer internship with Google, who bought YouTube years and years ago. The YouTube office is not at the Google headquarters in Mountain View, but it's completely owned and run by Google. Clayton's internship is at the YouTube office in San Bruno. It's hilarious how many people (I was one of them) don't know that YouTube=Google. When Clayton tells people "I work for YouTube," they react with polite interest and think, "Oh, another tech company." Then I pipe up and say, "Which is Google." Then they get all excited and everything.

Anyways...it's much more fun to hear in person, but quite hilarious. If someone says they work at Android, they work for Google. If they work at YouTube, they work for Google. Continuing on...

On occasion Clayton goes to Google's headquarters in Mountain View, and one day I went with him. How to describe it? Very...Googley. It's made up of buildings everywhere and people walking from place to place during lunch or riding Google-colored bicycles. I got lost in the parking lots trying to find parking and got to see their electric charging stations, complete with snazzy Teslas and other electric cars. There are cafeterias everywhere that serve three free square meals a day. Google colors and symbols, like Chrome and Android, are also everywhere. We went to the Google store and got to play with the Google Nexus tablets they had on display. 

We tried to find cool sights to visit, but they were either closed or not available to visitors. Fortunately, as we were passing through the Android building, we unexpectedly found lots of fun stuff to do. First there were the statues for each one of Android's yummy version names (Jelly Bean, Ice Cream Sandwich). There was an arcade with games like DDR and a racing game that was a cross between a simulator and a normal driving arcade game. There was a 4-foot smartphone that let me play Tetris using my hands. And of course, who can forget about the magical ghost piano...

Standing next to Android 4.1

Craving Android 2.2

I'd hate to meet the person who owns this as a cell phone...

Look, Mom! No hands!

Sadly, not a ghost. But awesomely, it's a self-playing "digital player piano." It's got skills.

Google is an accommodating place for employees. There's always places to eat, places to sit comfortably, and recreational activities like volleyball or bowling. At Clayton's YouTube office, many employees exercise before the end of their shift. His office also has sweet massage chairs and a fun slide to get from the third floor to the second. I was grateful for the chance to check out Google so close. Pretty much everything there is only accessible if you visit with a Googler.

Plus There's a Baby

On top of all the adventures, I'm quite pregnant! We haven't taken any decent pictures of my belly yet, but those will come eventually. I can feel the baby move so much. So excited that after all our adventures here in California, we'll only have a couple months left before the biggest adventure of our lives begins--parenting, woo-hoo!

Christmas Vacation 2012

I know I'm many, many weeks late, but I wanted to get this posted so I'll never forget it (I actually wrote it like a month ago). I'll have a more recent one coming soon. Eventually...

Here's how our awesome Christmas Vacation turned out:

Visiting Tooele-ish Places

It just wouldn't be time off without a bit of running around. I went to Stansbury Park, Tooele, Grantsville, Magna (not Tooele territory, but close), and Wendover (Tooele territory, but not close). One of the highlights was visiting my best friend of many years who had her first baby in December. I'm so happy for her!

Another highlight was visiting Clayton's sister's family, Leila and Josh, in Wendover. They live on the Utah side, but we crossed over to Nevada to watch their oldest daughter perform in a dance recital. There's a line on the road letting travelers know when they cross from Utah to Nevada, but they don't really need it. The casinos right smack on the line are a dead giveaway that we're not in Kansas anymore. (I mean Utah.) It was nice to drop by the Leila and Josh's place, since they're always the ones driving up to see us and everyone else.

This was the first Christmas I would be away from my parents, so we made sure to spend some time with them and their recent addition to the family, Riley, their hyperactive, chewing-obsessed, goofy, lovable Border Collie. With all the Riley, frosting cookies, and Christmas movies going on, the days flew by until it was time to drive up to the chilly, lakey North.

Couldn't resist posting a couple pics of us and Riley

The Dreaded Drive to Minnesota

The trip was hard for me and the longest I've ever been on. If we hadn't carpooled with another couple, I would never have agreed to drive through the night. When my turn came, right when my normal bedtime would be, I spent the longest 3.5 hours of my life trying to stay awake. It's funny, because when I started college, I could stay up and drive until 2:00am without a yawn. The difference was that this time--unlike those days--I had already been in a car for 4 hours, I had been fighting to fall asleep before I took the wheel, I was used to the sleep schedule of an employee and not a student, and there were no other talkative college students awake with me. But now, with nothing but my music, snacks, high beams, and the occasional semi truck for company, I drove along the two-lane highway in empty darkness.

Clayton woke up for the last little part of my shift and put in a movie. When he took the wheel, he asked me to stay awake for as long as I could, but I didn't last long. Thankfully, my handsome stud of a husband made it through the rest of the lonely night and we all woke to a glorious rising sun. All my hating of the dark was transformed into a quadrupled loving of the light, a moment that helped me appreciate all the light and dark analogies that exist in the world.

The worst was over. As we drove past the aftermath of a huge storm in Iowa, I saw how blessed we were to avoid the "worst" that befell many others. There were semi trucks off the road, many facing the wrong direction or knocked over sideways. Later the highway was strung with more cars off the road sunk deep in a ditch of snow, a graveyard of stuck and abandoned vehicles. Some were sideways, and we came across one pile of smashed cars with a car upside down. How grateful I am that we didn't drive through that storm! The road was still bumpy and slick with frozen snow caked to the surface, and I spent a huge part of the trip trying to sleep or read to keep my mind off what could still happen. This was one of those times in my life that I turned to my beliefs and faith, seeking the peaceful assurance that no matter what happened, everything would be okay. I seek that assurance a lot when I'm driving. Rather than focus on how my life is in the hands of strangers and hostile weather on the road, I imagine how my life is in the hands of the Lord. Makes me feel lots better.

Ahoy, Minnesota!

I'll be honest. When we finally reached Minnesota in the evening, nearly 24 hours after leaving Utah, I was a soulless zombie. I don't remember anything except waiting for dinner, then falling asleep on an air mattress. We had go to choir practice at 8:00am the next morning so all the Watts could sing in their ward's Christmas Program for church. Zombies don't sing, so I watched the Watts practice with a blurry, short attention span. I dazed my way through church, and when I was finally free to let my body crash, Clayton and I crammed together on a twin bed, fell asleep in 5 seconds, and didn't move for the next 4 hours.

When I woke from that beautiful nap I was a real person again with a soul, and actually cared about being there.

Christmas

I went caroling with the singin' Watts the day before Christmas Eve and got an icy taste of a Minnesota winter. Nothing I wore was ever warm enough; only the warm fuzzy glow of the Christmas Spirit moved me from place to place. That, and the fact that Clayton's sister's new husband from Colorado was also freezing. Together we suffered the shivering of the Dry Climate Dwellers.

On Christmas Eve itself, I was a little homesick when evening approached since I hadn't done any of the traditional activities of my family. At the same time, it was sweet to experience the traditions of another family. Here's what the Watts do on Christmas Eve, in no particular order:

1. Hop in a sauna, then hop in the snow (didn't do the snow part this year though)

2. Play Christmas songs band-style: They had two trumpets, a trombone, a French horn, a clarinet, two guitars, a cello, a piano, and the bells (percussion) for Clayton. Crazy enough, percussion is what I played in high school for a short time, so I could share my husband's instrument and be a part of their musical jamboree. Awesome.

3. Act out the Christmas Story from the scriptures

4. Open a present: Not a tradition my family has done, so I felt weird doing it. When one of the girls opened a pair of socks, I figured that'd be a perfect pre-Christmas gift, and sent Clayton to find me a gift that felt like socks. We scored.

The days that followed Christmas were filled with basketball, volleyball, Les Miserables, and family games. While sore and aching muscles pounded my body, I still had a blast.

A Colorado Thanksgiving - Of Turkey & Tissues

Well, I haven't posted in a while, but not much has been missed. I mean, somewhere in October I got rear-ended on the highway when the car behind me got slammed from behind by someone who didn't realize that traffic had stopped, so yeah, annoying and a bit freaky, but I drove away in one piece. A little whiplash here, a scratched-up bumper there, but a few weeks later it was like it never happened. Then we had a cozy Halloween with my parents and their Energizer doggy, then Clayton performed with his band of merry BYU Concert Choir men (and women), and...that's about it.

But of course, the Watts of the Wattsonian did take part in...

THANKSGIVING!!

Off we drove, to the faraway land of Grand Junction in the colorful Colorado desert, filled with towering mesas, rabbits, and coyotes who will eat your cat if it wanders alone at night. Really, it's a great place. My grandpa has a reclining chair that can un-recline and raise him up until he's standing on his feet. My grandma has a magical container of chocolate chip cookies that never runs out, despite our best efforts. Both grandparents schooled us in Jeopardy, and Grandma schooled us in Catch Phrase, a word game where you use words to get your team to say a certain word as fast as possible. She's the quickest I've ever seen. Seriously, college grads got nothin' on their grandparents. 

Thanksgiving itself was a bit of both "yum" and "yuck." Normally "tissues" are joked about in reference to one of the Watts, a family who is plagued by allergies. However, so that those of non-allergic genes can share some of their pain, we get colds. I was already ripping through a tissue box faster than Clayton before Thanksgiving, with the mornings and evenings bringing on the highest tissue piles beside our mattress (ga-ross!). Of course colds are more than a runny and stuffy nose, and after a couple days of a sore throat, I started losing my voice. I barely had enough vocal power left for Catch Phrase, and the next morning on Thanksgiving I woke with no voice, and not much appetite. I was a little sad. I don't recall ever eating so little turkey on Turkey Day. I felt better during the day, but my nose and headaches did knock me out here and there, and my voice still evaded me. On the bright side, I didn't have the flu, I was in good company with good food, and I didn't have to work. 

My family, going around the table left to right: Grandparents, handsomest man in the world, great-aunt & great-uncle, great parents,  & my sister-in-law & brother. I'm related to some awesome people.

These are my Grandma's kids: Tripper left, Casey right. They're eager for their Thanksgiving morsels. 

Mm, Clayton is so attractive. 

My awesome and cute great-aunt and uncle, Phil & Deany. I definitely want my marriage to be as happy as theirs when I'm their age. I'm not sure what age that is, exactly.

THE DAY AFTER THANKSGIVING

Black Friday was more like White Friday, because one of Clayton's sisters got married in Manti, Utah. Manti isn't conveniently located next to my grandparents' house, so we woke up early--which is almost like a sin when you're on vacation--and drove to their wedding. Well, Clayton drove, and his ill, nose-blowing wife slept. The weather was awesome and the wedding was lovely. Clayton and I took a brief sightseeing trip to Snow College afterward, which is right by Manti, and is my alma mater for my first year-and-a-half of college. This college only takes up about a block-and-a-half. It's a bit smaller than BYU.

The reception for their wedding was a fun shindig. The bride and her new husband both play the guitar and sing, so they and other musicians performed for their guests. Still under the influence of a viral infectious disease, I didn't make it through the entire evening. But it was good to spend time with Clayton's family and relatives. 

THE DAY AFTER THE DAY AFTER THANKSGIVING

We slept in until 11:00am. I stayed in my pajamas for most of the day. We cleaned and organized (surprise!), went grocery shopping, cooked Totino's pizzas and snuggled during a movie. In summary, the week of awesomeness went thus: from my family to Clayton's family to our family. Family and turkey totally trump tissues.

Mom Being Da Bomb at the Utah State Fair

Several weeks ago this slacker of a blogger met up with her family at the Utah State Fair. This family included my parents, my brother Kyle, and his wife Rachel. My beloved Clayton couldn’t join us because he was at a choir rehearsal. He sings in the BYU Concert Choir, and he sings in an acapella old school Barbershop Club. I sing in the church congregation.

I don’t know too much about the State Fair, other than it happens every year, you can check out a bunch of cows, people try to sell you things you don’t need, and there is divine Dippin’ Dots ice cream. But this year, there were two very special things about the fair.

The Haunted House

Mom totally won an award for this creation of hers at the State Fair. My mom has a passion for Halloween, and she’s always wanted to make a haunted house dollhouse. “Dollhouse” seems too girly to be in a phrase with “haunted house,” but really, that’s what this project started out as—a white, pink and girly Fisher dollhouse. Over the years Mom had collected tiny Halloweeny things from the D.I. and other places. But then, on one inspirational and probably sunny morning when the birds were singing, the time came to become the master builder on a tiny and creepy scale. Mom painted every inch of the girlyness away. She added flooring of various kinds, wallpaper, and her own little electrical system. She added chandeliers, framed pictures, furniture, and then the monsters, each with their own room and theme.

The funnest part for me through all this was getting to touch everything. I’ve touched literally everything in that little house, and I actually mean literally in the way it’s supposed to be used. Every time she added something new, I zeroed in on it and had to touch it.

Occupants: Dracula, a Witch, the Mummy, Werewolf, Creature from the Black Lagoon, Frankenstein and his monster, and a bunch of ghouls, ghosts, spiders, rats, bats, skeletons, the Grim Reaper...it's a monster mash.

Oh, there was a point to all this awesomeness. Mom entered her artwork into the State Fair. It was a hit! Children and adults everywhere (especially the children) were mesmerized by this haunted creation. She won the People’s Choice award, which is a big deal, because there are like a zillion categories for every artwork, so everyone had an award of some kind. But not the People’s Choice! Go Mom! It’s more than just the award too that’s uber cool. We were about as interested in the people who goggled at her Haunted House as they were in the house. It was happy and fascinating to see the delight that her masterpiece brought to their faces.

Behold the artist and her creation

 

Behold the admirers of her creation

The artwork that probably would have been the People’s Choice if Mom’s house hadn’t been there is this big guy, made completely out of car parts:

There was also this one creation, a board covered with more toys than you can imagine and coated in silver paint. The goal was to find Waldo, who apparently has some color and can be seen if you look at the board from a certain side. Naturally, this produced some funny reactions in people. Adults and children of all ages lined up by this strange thing, squinting their eyes and tilting their heads, and murmuring “Alright, where is he?” It’s so funny what art brings out in people.

The Lemurs

Thanks to my friend Sarah Lay, I found out that for 5 dollars, I could hold a lemur! I love animals, especially furry ones. I got to hold two babies! They were clinging to each other in a way that they could roll up into one big ball. They’re pretty little creatures, with really big yellow eyes.

This is what my family did while I got to hold the little guys:

Dad still had his boot to support his recovering ankle, and had been on his feet for a big chunk of the day. The boot was at last taking its toll on his heel, but he was a trooper to the very end.