Third Time is NOT a Charm

When I was pregnant a few years ago, a friend of mine asked how I was doing. I told her that I couldn't complain, inducing a head shake a small smile from her. She then chided me saying, "Kristin, just because someone else's situation sucks more than yours, doesn't mean yours doesn't suck. You can still complain; it's okay." So, even though I know that the current events of my life are far from the worst things imaginable, they are still grey and I'm going to complain about them. I apologize in advance for the whiny rambling.

Last Tuesday (the 25th), I was supposed to have my first prenatal appointment with my OB/GYN. There I was going to see my little 9-week lima bean. Instead I saw an empty uterus on the ultrasound screen and watched as the doctor removed remnants of the sac from me. As soon as I knew I was pregnant I tried to be cautious and reign in my excitement. But each day it became harder as I began thinking of a very real and very alive baby that I would have in the spring. This was something I wanted so much I couldn't help but be happy. Now I'm angry, confused, hopeless and completely depressed.

I feel like such a failure. Why is it so hard for me to have a baby? It took just about 2 years of trying before I became pregnant with Peter. As anyone who has dealt with it knows, infertility is emotionally awful. Every pregnant lady you see is a reminder that she has something you don't have. And it seems like such a simple thing to get pregnant, just basic human workings. I mean if a 14 year old girl can get pregnant because she's too dumb to prevent it, why couldn't I. But the seemingly impossible happened and I did get pregnant. I wondered how my fertility would be after Peter. I told Ryan that I felt like it was going to be much easier to get pregnant the 2nd time around. And I was right. I've been pregnant 3 separate times in the last year. I never imagined that I would actually have no problem getting pregnant, but that the issue would be staying pregnant.

Now I've just had my 3rd miscarriage in less than a year (2 confirmed, 1 highly probable). The first 2 were both before I was 6 weeks along so I was foolishly optimistic once I hit the 6 week mark with this one. And when I passed the 8 week point I honestly thought I was out of the woods. Then 3 days later I started spotting. After 2 days of spotting, mild cramps,a backache, and several panicked phone calls to my doctor I decided to go to the hospital just to check what was going on. So at 10:30 on a Saturday night (the 22nd) I watched as the ultrasound tech tried to find my baby's heartbeat and knew that things were not right. After all the tests were done, the ER doctor. told us that he couldn't really tell us what was going on. I might be having a miscarriage, I might not. They found enough positives to give him hope, but there were enough negatives to make him worried. I went home with instructions to stay flat and take it easy and call my doctor on Monday morning.

Sunday started out fine but by the evening I could tell that I was no longer in the threatened miscarriage stage. I'll spare you the details but the intense pain (so much worse than I'd experienced before) and the amount of blood left no doubt to what was happening. This continued throughout Monday and Tuesday. When I saw my doctor Tuesday morning he wanted to check to see if I needed a D&C because I had only passed very small clots. Within a minute of starting the pelvic exam he quietly asked the nurse for a few things and then told me I should look away. And because I'm an absolute idiot I'm looked as he placed a golf ball sized fetal sac into a container. Apparently the sac had made its way down and so the doctor was able to easily retrieve it. Now I have this terrible image in my head that I cannot get rid of.

So now I'm just dealing with the aftermath. The physical pain finally went away a couple of days ago and I wish it hadn't. For one thing it's much easier to focus on bodily pain than it is to deal with emotions. And secondly I am so upset with my body right now that I feel like it deserves the pain. I know it is completely illogical but I hate my body right now. I know that we don't know why this happened but I still feel so much anger towards my body like it's its fault. And then of course that spills over into my general attitude about myself. What is wrong with me? It's easy to be level headed and smart when thinking about other peoples' fertility problems. Do I think someone is terrible because she can't get pregnant? Do I think a woman is pathetic and a failure because she has miscarriage? Absolutely not! But it's different when it's about me. I can't stop my feelings of frustration and hurt from dictating my thoughts right now. I feel like a complete screw up. I've failed at yet another pregnancy. I feel like I've failed Ryan because I can't give him the children he wants. I feel like I've failed Peter because I can't give him a sibling; at this rate he'll be 10 before another kid comes along (I never wanted my kids to be more than 3 years apart). I feel like I'm failing myself because I want to cry all the time and am hiding from everyone.

Life sucks sometimes.

All Because Two People Fell In Love!

Ryan & me on July 4th in 2003. I can't believe how young (and thin) we look.

Okay, I don't know whether to blush from embarrassment or gag because I actually entitled one of my posts with that sentimental drivel. Hmm...even after 6 years of marriage, Ryan still has the ability to inspire me to babble Victorian inspired adage about our love (these babblings frequently precede me falling into a fit of vapors). So I'm going to keep it simple and non-embarrassing.

Happy Sixth Anniversary Ryan. August 19, 2003 was an awesome day and everyday since has been even better (well, almost every day!). I love you and always will (as long as you put your dirty socks in the hamper).

PS. Sorry for the lack of wedding photos. I can't seem to find the CD of our wedding pictures (maybe we've been burgled).

Oh, what do you do in the summertime...

Oh, what do you do in the summertime, when all the world is green? Do you swim in a pool, to keep yourself cool, or swing in a tree up high? Is that what you do? So do I!

But not Peter. When it's over 90 degrees outside he prefers to wear fleece footed jammies with snowmen. Obviously, this was not a battle I won (I'm definitely on a losing streak lately). Thank goodness I have A/C to deal with my son's fashion sense.

U Can't Touch This

In general, 3rd grade girls are not paragons of coolness (especially 3rd graders with shamu-sized hair sprayed bangs). But I remember being at a friend's birthday party when I was 9 and thinking I was pretty cool. Now why would I think that? Well, I was dancing to MC Hammer's "U Can't Touch This" and you can't get much cooler than that, right? There we were a bunch of dorky 8 and 9 year old girls bopping around to an older sister's mix tape and then MC Hammer came on. Wow, I loved that song.

Now, nineteen years later, Peter loves that song! For Father's Day my brother Kyle and his wife Renae gave Ryan one of those nifty Hallmark cards that plays a song when it is opened. Peter immediately fell in love with card the first time he opened it and it played "U Can't Touch This." He carries it around the house, opens it and proceeds to bust a move. He wags his head, spins in a circle, pops up from his knees, stamps the ground, and wiggles his shoulders. Thanks to his almost hourly performances this week I've learned a couple of things: 1. My 2-year-old is more coordinated than me; 2. He's way cooler now than I was as a 3rd grader (at least he thinks he is).

That Kind of Mom

One day last week Peter decided he wanted to go outside after eating. As I watched him play in the backyard I had a horrible realization: I'm "that" kind of mom! You know the kind that lets her kids run around half-naked in filthy clothes with slimy faces and sticky hands. So I apologize to all those mothers I've observed over the years with unkempt and questionably dressed children. I'm sorry I thought bad things about you and now I understand. Sometimes you just have to let your kid run around with no pants, an oatmeal dotted shirt, snow boots (Peter INSISTED he wear those), sticky peach juice hands, snot-covered face and hair containing remnants of the last meal.

Yes, Peter stopped himself when he noticed the water on the slide. I guess he thought he was already dirty enough.

Peppermint Body Wash

My newest favorite thing is Burt's Bees Peppermint and Rosemary Body Wash. After working outside in the yard there is nothing better than taking a slightly cold shower with this body wash. I immediately cool down and the peppermint makes my skin feel incredibly clean, fresh, and tingly. It's so nice it almost makes it worth it to do yard work! Now if I could just get it to give me a massage...

Adventures in Food: Japanese Style

My best friend Faith thinks I'm a picky eater. I've never really thought of myself as a picky eater, there are just some things I refuse to eat: seafood, mayonnaise (and anything made with it), hard boiled eggs, fake cheese (American Cheese is a national disgrace), canned vegetables (why turn a perfectly yummy vegetable into a mushy metallic-tasting horror), anything pickled, mustard, tomato soup, tofu, anything spongy, and hot dogs (mmm...mechanically separated parts). Although the act of listing my dislikes makes me realize that I am only proving my friend's theory/myth about me.

Anyway, Faith decided a while ago that she is going to turn me from a whitebread Utah suburbanite into a cosmopolitan foodie (isn't it cute that she actually thinks that is possible!). So we started a monthly ethnic lunch—she originally proposed calling it the "let's make Kristin eat like a big girl" monthly lunch). So far we've had Indian and Thai food. I had tried both of these years before so I wasn't completely unprepared for the experiences. I've discovered I do like Indian food but not Thai food. While I generally liked the flavor of the Thai, I had a hard time with the texture.

For May, we decided (correction: Faith decided) to go to a Japanese restaurant and sushi bar. I didn't see the point in having a Japanese lunch because I love teriyaki and tepanyaki style meat, but I guess that wasn't good enough. So about a week ago we went to a local Japanese restaurant (I'm not going to give the name of the place because I think it would be unfair for me to rate their food). Even though Faith promised me beforehand that she would not make me eat any seafood, I was still nervous. While I have always found Japanese food to be beautifully presented, I've never thought it looked that appetizing.

We started off with a Tempura sampler (basically fried vegetables, calamari and shrimp). I was definitely underwhelmed by the tempura veggies. I thought they tasted fine but would have actually liked them better without the deep frying. Next it was miso soup. I thought it was pretty yummy except I kept getting distracted by the nasty floating cubes of tofu. For the main entree I ordered the Tonkatsu lunch special. Tonkatsu is a breaded pork loin cut into thin strips. I couldn't decide whether I liked it or not because the meat was very tough (Faith said that is not normal); I'm pretty sure I would have enjoyed the flavor more if I hadn't had to work so hard to chew the meat. Fortunately, the Tonkatsu was served in a bento box (like the picture above) with rice, California rolls, pot stickers, and slightly pickled cucumbers. I like rice and pot stickers so they were safe. I was not a fan of the cucumbers (remember my abhorrence of all things pickled). Finally, I had to eat the California rolls (essentially an inside-out sushi roll with imitation crab meat). I gingerly placed one in my mouth and discovered within .5 seconds that I HATE fake seafood as much as real seafood. It was all I could do to swallow it and not spew it all over my cute bento box. A few minutes later I decided to try the California roll again so I could say that I really did make an effort. My second attempt was no better than the first. I boxed up the leftovers from my lunch (and there were plenty) and took them home with the idea to try the food again in the privacy of my own kitchen. Basically, I had the same reaction to the California roll at home as I did at the restaurant except I was able to spit out the half-chewed glob into my sink.

So here are my conclusions. Do I like Japanese food? Yes and no. Would I ever choose to go to a Japanese restaurant? Absolutely not. Would I ever go to a Japanese restaurant again if friends wanted to? Yes, but I'd stay clear of the tofu, seafood (fake and real) and California rolls unless our table was unusually close to the bathroom.

(Note to Faith: thank you for trying to improve my palette and expand my culinary horizons. While I am not having as much success as either of us wants I do appreciate your help.)

The Backfiring of Handy Manny

Until about 2 months ago, Peter has not been a fan of TV; rarely anything would grab his attention for longer than 30 seconds (with the exception of Olympic diving). Generally he would ignore the TV completely and I was happy with that...until recently. Peter is becoming increasingly curious and clingy, meaning I cannot do ANYTHING without him being right there with me. While I love my son and appreciate his "help" when cleaning, I really wanted just 20 minutes a day to myself to do fun things like wash dishes or scrub the kitchen floor (I lead a very exciting life).

At the end of February I started Cartoon Campaign 2009. My idea was that if I could get Peter to watch 1 episode of some cartoon in the morning I could have that blissful freedom for at least a short while. So I started poking around the Disney Channel and Nickelodeon for possible candidates. After weighing the pros and cons of the various shows (ie. animation style, colors, characters, age appropriateness, music, storylines, level of annoyingness, etc.) I narrowed it down to 2 shows: Handy Manny on Disney and The Backyardigans on Nickelodeon (yes, I overthink things!). So everyday after breakfast I would sit with Peter on my lap and watch one of those shows. At first we would only watch a few minutes slowly increasing the time daily. Soon Peter showed a definite preference for Handy Manny and would watch an entire episode with me (each episode is composed of two 12 minute segments). Then for a week I sat next to him as Peter watched Hanny Manny, eventually working my way farther from him each day. After about a month of this conditioning, Peter finally would watch 24 minutes of TV everyday by himself. SUCCESS!

Unfortunately, my plan was a little too successful. Now Peter is absolutely obsessed with Handy Manny. He has turned the sign for "more" into the Handy Manny sign. Now all day I rebuff his desperate attempts to watch the show all day (I'm convinced he would watch 3 hours straight if I let him). And of course I exacerbated the problem by buying Peter a Handy Manny toolset. My plan has completely backfired on me; I think I would rather give away my 24 minutes of me time each day to not have to listen and watch Peter beg all day for his beloved Handy Manny. I guess this is what I get for trying to control my son.

Peter watching Handy Manny with his toolbox.

Make Up Your Mind!

I love winter with its quiet snowy days and chilly nights. And I love spring with its mild sunny weather and bright botanical pageantry. But I struggle with the "in between" weather. Cold and rainy one day, blistering hot the next. 50 mph winds on Thursday, suffocatingly still air on Friday, blizzard on Saturday. Make up your freakin' mind! And to think my mom thought I was indecisive when trying to pick out what to wear to school every morning. My fickle nature seems downright stable and predictable when compared to mother nature. It's very frustrating trying to explain to a 2 year old that we can't go outside because its subarctic out there when the previous day we spent 23 hours on the swingset. In fact the only good thing about the ever changing weather is that Peter can continue to wear his adorable hat from Oma P. I can't help but smile when I see Peter running around with it on.

My Blogging Problem

Hello...is anyone out there? If not, I completely understand; generally a 2 month absence does not fall under the heading of "Brief Blogging Respite." I was worried this would happen when I started my blog last fall. I've never been good at journaling or friendly correspondence. In fact abysmal failure is an appropriate way to describe myself when it comes to returning e-mails, writing family and friends, keeping a journal, recording important dates and milestones for Peter, etc. I even have a hard time with Facebook (the simplest of all mediums).

Let me describe for you my typical thought process when receiving an email:
1) Wow, it's so nice to hear from _____. I love knowing what's happening in ____'s life.
2) I must write _____.
3) Oh, wait. My response needs to be as equally lovely as the original.
4) Crap, I don't have time for that right now—I'll do that later.
5) Hmm...it's 1 week later, I should write _____ back now. Wait, since I rudely have waited a week to respond, it needs to be even better and longer than I planned. Eh, I'll do it later.
6) Crap, crap, crap! Now it's been months and I still haven't responded. Now I have to write a long newsy epistle. It needs to be perfectly crafted with clever wit, insightful observations, amusing anecdotes, and satirical reports on my life. That's going to be difficult. I think I'll do it later.
7) Now, it's been 8 years. It would be embarrassing to respond now. I hate myself.

Yep, basically some variation of the above goes on in my pathetic little mind when faced with recording my life with words. As you can see I have a huge problem with procrastination and perfection. I'm so overwhelmed by my need for perfection that I procrastinate doing anything. But I foolishly thought that the public nature of blogging would apply enough pressure for me to overcome my neuroses (well, at least 2 of them).

Unfortunately, I failed to account for the obvious: numerous people reading my blog would compound the need for perfection, thus sending my procrastination into overdrive. And I also made the foolish mistake of thinking my son would let me within 10 feet of the computer while he's awake. And I didn't realize that my son would become an insomniac forcing me to grab the nearest pillow whenever he actually sleeps, leaving me very little computer time. And I didn't account for the fact that fatigue plus life would leave me in a bit of a melancholic state for several months. Oh well.

And to You February I Bid Adieu

When I became pregnant, I arrogantly and naively vowed that I would not be one of those mothers that puts her kids in so many activities that they have a hard time finding an open slot in their schedules to brush their teeth. I was going to smartly sift through the available extra-curricular offerings allowing my children to expand and develop their talents (and create new ones) and still have a fun and carefree childhood. I knew at some point I would devolve into the proverbial chauffeur/personal assistant for my children. I just always expected it to happen when I had multiple older kids—not a single 2-year-old!

Every Monday and Wednesday Peter has preschool. Unfortunately the preschool is at his EI center (Early Intervention) which is a 20 to 25 minute drive (I spend a lot of time in the car on those days). On Fridays he has a Kindermusik class at EI. Peter is also visited by an EI Specialist twice a month and a SLP (Speech Language Pathologist) once a month. Those things combined with the daily speech therapy and autism therapy we do at home keep Peter and I comfortably active.

By nature I am not one of those busy people who likes/has to be doing something all the time, so it was with horror that I looked at my calendar for the month of February. Thanks to Peter, I had at least one thing scheduled for every weekday in February except one. In addition to the things above we had extra events that crowded our calender. We're starting a new autism therapy with Peter that required a couple of home visits from a therapist. We updated Peter's EI goals so we had to meet with our EI Family Advocate and EI Specialist. When you put those all together with our regular activities and add in doctor's appointments for Peter and me, we were extra busy in February. My calendar has more than a few blanks for March and I'm practically giddy about it.

My Chunky Monkey

Peter's always been a little guy. He entered this world weighing 4 lbs. 15 oz. and measuring 17 1/2 inches, putting him in the 1st percentile on both the weight and height growth charts. He was little Peter (a name I'm sure he won't appreciate when he's older). For the first 9 months of his life Peter fluctuated between the 1st and 2nd percentiles. He finally hit a growth spurt and celebrated his 1st birthday by landing a spot in the 14th percentile for weight and the 5th for height. He continued to grow slowly and by his 18 month doctor appointment he slid into the 15th percentile for weight and jumped to the 18th for height.

Today Peter had his 2 Year checkup. I knew he had grown, but I was anxious to see where he landed on the charts. While Peter eats a large variety of foods he usually eats a very small quantity; somedays I think a caterpillar could beat him in an eating contest (he must get that from me). So you can imagine my surprise and delight when Peter's pediatrician told me that I could move Peter from whole milk to 2%. He then showed me that Peter had leapt into the 48th percentile for weight and the 27th for height. WHAT! Where did my little Peter go? I guess he's been making more hidden trips into the pantry than I was aware of.

Pete's Party

Peter didn't like his party hat or his family singing Happy Birthday to him

A 2-year-old doesn't understand what a birthday party is, let alone a birthday. But Ryan and I think that any photographic proof/ammunition we can produce right now to disprove Peter's almost certain to happen teenage rant of "You never did anything for me," is enough reason to have a birthday party for a 2-year-old. So we had a small family party a couple of weeks ago (it's taken me this long to finally go through the photos).

My mom generously offered to bake the birthday cake and I smartly and generously accepted her offer (it's not nice to invite people to a party and serve them a cake I baked). We discussed possible themes for the cake but were unable to come up with anything. Peter is one of those rare toddlers that is not obsessed with a particular animal/vehicle/cartoon character. Really his dream cake would be 12 mini cupcakes frosted in 6 different colors; he could spend his entire party sorting and lining up the cupcakes. Then my mom and I realized that there is something that Peter loves more than anything: Big Walter! So my mom made an amazing cake of Peter's beloved dog. We were a little worried that he wouldn't want to eat the Big Walter cake but of course he scarfed it down because it was cake.

Peter was a bit confused about everything. And having 10 adults sing Happy Birthday to him was more than he could handle (apparently our singing voices are worse than we thought). But overall I thought it was a success. We were able to spend time with our families, celebrate an adorable little boy, spoil Peter more, and eats lots of cake.

Peter with the real Big Walter and the cake Big Walter

Hmm, maybe this birthday thing isn't so bad

Yummy cake

Overheard

I overheard this conversation between two women at the gym today. (Yes, I'm a terrible person because I eavesdrop.)

Middle-aged woman with really bad eye makeup (think goth teenager): "I just love big families. I always wanted one but I was only able to have 6 kids."

Her completely serious friend: "Oh, that's too bad. I never wanted a big family so 5 was just right for us."

WHAT?! Since when is 5 or 6 kids NOT a big family?!

Why I Want To Be A Kid

Wouldn't it be nice to just go to sleep whenever (and wherever) you felt like it.

Happy Birthday Peter!

My baby is 2 today! Here's a little video celebrating Peter's illustrious life thus far through photos. Enjoy.

When I was putting together this video there was no question of what song to use. "Starlight" by Muse will always be to me Peter's song; whenever I hear it I always think of him and the weeks following his birth. As many of you know Peter had to stay in the hospital for 3 weeks after he was born. Because of this I was pumping my breast milk every 3 hours around the clock. During the first week I often did my middle of the night pumps on the glider in Peter's unused room in an effort to feel closer to him. One night I decided to listen to my iPod while I pumped to keep me awake. As I sat there with one of Peter's blankets around me, "Starlight" came up on shuffle. Even though I had heard the song before and liked it (I did put it on my iPod) this time it was different. Listening to it I felt closer to my little boy who was miles away from me. I just wanted to hold him in my arms and never let go. Since that night whenever I hear "Starlight" I always think of Peter and how much I love him and what he means to me.

Sleep Wars With Screams and Roars

A common sight at our house

A much less common sight (and of course I woke him with the camera!)

Peter has never been a great sleeper but a couple of months ago he declared war on sleep (or on me and Ryan?). His sleep schedule has become as complicated and frustrating as the IRS tax code. Most nights he refuses to go to sleep before 11:30 and then he wakes up multiple times during the night and it's incredibly difficult to get him to go back to sleep (Peter is very good at imitating a roaring lion). I'm tired.

For whatever reason this tiredness seems worse than the tiredness experienced when Peter was a newborn. I think there must be some chemical the brain produces after delivering a baby that enables a woman's body to handle the lack of sleep and physical exhaustion that accompanies a newborn. I just want to know why there isn't a chemical to handle the toddler inducing exhaustion. True I am getting more sleep than when Peter was tiny but I'm also doing a whole lot more. For one thing, a newborn stays in one position while a toddler manages to hit 12,000 positions in less than 5 seconds (why walk when you can run and throw things simultaneously?). Also it's okay to be a bit lazy with a new baby: laundry can pile up (and it does with a spitting up and pooping machine in the house), dirty dishes can take over the kitchen, and meals can consist solely of frozen food. But that phase isn't allowed to last too long (hopefully). However, life and all its chores marches on with a 2-year-old. And another big difference is the public attitude towards fatigue. It's acceptable and even expected for a new mom to be tired. The checker at the grocery store doesn't give you a funny look when you give her your address when she asks for your phone number as long as you have that cute, sleeping baby in the carrier with you. Now, my kid not sleeping is my fault and supposedly no big deal.

But when I'm really honest with myself I realize why I'm more tired now. I've come to the awful realization that this is my life for at least a couple more decades. When I felt like the exhaustion would completely destroy me when Peter was an infant, I was comforted and strengthened by the idea that the tiredness was just a phase and that I would soon be sleeping 8 hours straight every night for the rest of my life. Now I know that I will never sleep an entire night through until I'm old and then I'll probably be up every hour with an overactive bladder and arthritis pains. I'm tired just thinking about it.

Excuses, Excuses

Guess who's back? Kristin's back! (I'm pretending that you care.) I wish I had some great excuse to explain my temporary absence, but only the mundane has kept me away. A combination of things has contributed: 1) a busier than normal schedule; 2) fatigue (a lovely gift from my son who refuses to sleep) that makes me crawl into my bed (actually at this point any bed would do) as soon as I can every night; 3) a son that screams anytime I get within 82 feet of the computer; and 4) a case of the awful January blues. I know, I know those are all pretty flimsy as far as excuses go. Really, all it took was one crazy week to get out of the habit of blogging and because I am such a creature of habit and a perennial procrastinator, it has taken a bit to get me back on here. But it's probably a really good thing I haven't been blogging because basically I would have posted lengthy and vitriolic discourses on why I despise health insurance companies and the Utah state legislature. And all the anger from those posts most certainly would have been unfun for you to read and heart attack-inducing for me (also unfun). So anyway I'm hopefully back to posting a few times a week (although, I wouldn't believe it until you see it).

Busyness

I've achieved a blogging milestone: not posting for an entire week (the horror!). What is frustrating is that I actually do have a lot I could blog about because I've been so busy this past week; but because I've been so busy I have not had time to post anything new (do you see the irony). Generally my life is not highly scheduled (an understatement), however, I have had at least one thing (sometimes two) every night and the days have been uncharacteristically full also.

Peter with Adara & Kylie at the library

One of the culprits of my busyness is a project I'm working on for Young Women's (the girls ages 12-17) at church. A few weeks ago, I foolishy and naively (I want to emphasize the foolishly) volunteered to do the program for New Beginnings (a special activity and program that outlines and explains the Young Women's program, it's theme, motto, values, etc.). I got a really great idea from my Mom (who always seems to have really great ideas) that required me to take multiple photos of the girls in various situations. I will then use the photos in a PowerPoint presentation to illustrate the eight values. Of course I didn't really think about the difficulties of scheduling times to take these pictures with 30+ teenage girls. And I forgot how forgetful/unreliable they are sometimes. So for the last 3 days I've been tracking them down and listening to their excuses of how terrible they look (I wish I could as good as they do when they look "terrible"). On Friday I drove to different locations for some of the photos with 3 girls. Peter loved being with them (unless I went out of his sight). Fortunately, Ryan had Peter duty for the rest of my photo shoots.

On a related side note, it was eye opening to go inside so many people's homes in a short period of time. In just the past few days I've been in over 20 houses. I found it interesting that most of the homes were either clean and picked up or pretty messy, there didn't seem to much of a middle ground. (For the record, I'm not counting daily clutter and living as messy.) And every time I was invited in there was an immediate apology for the condition of the home whether it was messy or not (except at one house where I was worried I would disrupt the perfectly ordered living room simply by breathing). It seems that I'm not the only one suffering from the misconception that everyone else has a spotless home. If anything this New Beginnings project has helped alleviate my feelings of inferiority in regards to my housekeeping—now I know I'm not the only one who utters a ritual apology for my house when someone comes to the door.

Photography Skills

Isn't this an exceptional photo? Okay, I admit that it in no way qualifies as a good photo or even a mediocre one, but I am still incredibly proud of it. Why, you ask? It's the first photo Peter has taken with a camera; not too shabby for a 23 month old. On Friday, Peter was playing on the computer. (No, I haven't converted him to the awesomeness of video games yet. He was literally playing on the turned off computer—moving the mouse around, tapping the keys and pushing buttons on the front of the monitor.) I had stupidly left my camera on the computer desk and of course Peter noticed it. However, I did not notice it until I heard the distinct fake shutter sound on my camera indicating a photo had just been taken. I turned around to find Peter with his finger on the camera and a huge grin on his face. He knew he had just done something cool. So above is the result of Peter's stolen minute with my camera. I think he did an impressive job setting up the shot, creating an interesting composition. Or maybe he just pushed a button (who can resist the siren call of a button?).

The Nicest Thing in My Kitchen

Well, for Christmas I received a cutting board that actually makes me want to be in my kitchen doing something other than heating up soup or pouring a bowl of cereal! Cooking is my least favorite domestic task (yes, I view it as a task and/or a necessary evil) but I just might have to start doing it more so I can use this cutting board. My wonderful (and obviously very talented) friend Faith actually made this.

Unfortunately, my sub par photography doesn't truly capture how beautiful the craftsmanship is and definitely doesn't show how smooth the wood is (I've had bed sheets that didn't come close to being this smooth!). It is truly a beautiful piece made from walnut, cherry, and maple and put together with the end grain facing up. It is not an exaggeration to say that the addition of this cutting board has classed up my kitchen. Thank you Faith!

I'm in awe of Faith's exceptional woodworking skills. She's been taking a woodworking class for years and has made numerous pieces of furniture (including her son's crib!). I recently decided that I would take the class with her this semester (it starts at the end of this month), but I must admit that now I'm even more intimidated than I was. I guess I will be Faith's foil in the class.

First Day of School

Peter started school today. Wait a minute! How old is that kid? He can't possibly be old enough for preschool already! At the suggestion of Peter's doctor, Ryan and I have been thinking for several months about placing Peter in an early preschool but were concerned about finding a quality one that would help Peter with his Austism Spectrum Disorder. Fortunately, the Early Intervention service that helps Peter has an early education center on site. So after discussing it with his EI team we decided to have him go there. So now my little will-be-2-in-February-boy is going to preschool for 5 hours a week. Peter will go 2 hours on Mondays and 3 on Wednesdays.

Young McPetey Had A Farm

Animals are taking over our house. But at least they are small, don't smell or shed, and never pee on the carpet (unlike Peter). Peter's SLP (Speech and Language Pathologist) Gayleen and his EIS (Early Intervention Specialist) Lindsey want me to use animals as part of Peter's daily home therapy. So Peter received several animal themed toys for Christmas. ("Peter NEEDS this Ryan. It's for his therapy; it will really help his Autism.")

One of the cutest toys is a Farm Memory Game by Little Tikes. It's a plastic egg carton with animals and eggs. There are 10 little animals that can be split in half. You separate the bottom from the top, then hide the pieces under the included egg cups. Peter loves this toy. He likes opening the carton, taking apart the eggs, finding the animals and putting them back in the carton (he's still a little too young to match the animals, so we keep them whole). But his favorite thing is to take the animals and line them up on a table. Then he moves them to the coffee table, then a chair, then a bookshelf, then the stairs, then the couch, then back to the table.

One of the most prevalent Autism Spectrum behaviors Peter has is his obsessive need/want to order and line objects up. Several months ago he would literally spend an hour moving 6 bottles of haircare products from one location to another on the second floor. He would carefully move the objects, organize them to his liking then immediately pick them up and start the entire process over. He would melt down if someone tried interrupting his process or moved things out of his order. Most of the time he would "play" with his toys this way unless someone was right there making him play with the toys correctly. Peter's doctor and EIS told Ryan and me that we needed to interrupt and prevent Peter from doing this lining up too much. While it's okay for him to do it occasionally for short periods of time it isn't okay for it to make up most of his solitary play. I've been working really hard since October to distract and redirect Peter when he starts lining things up.

Fortunately, Peter has made a lot of improvement; now most days he only does it once or twice for about 10 minutes. Then I bought those cute Little Tikes animals and the temptation was too much. Peter loves lining those animals up. Oops. I've had to hide them and only bring them out for a short time each day. Peter and I have a fun time moving those animals around. I try to make it more interactive by performing stunningly accurate imitations of animal sounds (except for the bunnny; what noise does a bunny make?) and requiring Peter to point and sign. Now if I could only get Peter to think cleaning and organizing the house is fun...