what IS kristin thinking?

Third Time is NOT a Charm

2009-08-30T23:57:00.007-06:00

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!

2009-08-19T14:02:00.002-06:00

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...

2009-07-19T23:10:00.008-06:00

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

2009-06-26T18:28:00.011-06:00

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

2009-06-01T23:49:00.009-06:00

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

2009-05-25T23:31:00.001-06:00

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

2009-05-17T22:28:00.007-06:00

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

2009-05-03T23:27:00.002-06:00

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!

2009-04-28T20:44:00.005-06:00

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

2009-04-26T21:26:00.005-06:00

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

2009-03-04T23:41:00.003-07:00

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

2009-02-26T23:09:00.000-07:00

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

2009-02-24T21:59:00.008-07:00

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

2009-02-18T22:16:00.000-07:00

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

2009-02-17T23:03:00.000-07:00

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

Happy Birthday Peter!

2009-02-12T06:01:00.004-07:00

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

2009-02-09T22:13:00.004-07:00

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

2009-02-07T23:13:00.004-07:00

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

2009-01-18T21:38:00.004-07:00

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

2009-01-11T23:46:00.000-07:00

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

2009-01-08T23:17:00.008-07:00

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

2009-01-05T23:45:00.001-07:00

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

2009-01-01T23:32:00.012-07:00

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...

I'm a BIG Boy Now!

2008-12-30T22:45:00.001-07:00

No, I didn't have a special surgery this Christmas (although I would probably get a lot more hits on my blog if I did). Peter is the big boy or at least he and I think so. Although he has been crawling up onto to chairs for months now, he's just realized that he can sit on them like everybody else. Whenever he sees people sitting at a table he thinks he should join them. He scoots to the front of the chair, leans forward, rests his arms and hands on the table and grins with pride (then he makes lame jokes and we are forced to laugh out of politeness...oh, wait that's my dad!). So even though his chin barely rises above the table, I think Peter looks like such a big boy. Where did my baby go?

Too Busy

2008-12-28T23:17:00.003-07:00

Due to the Christmas hullabaloo I haven't had much time for blogging (I know, I know, I'm crying too!). Hopefully, I'll post a thorough outline of Christmas soon (try to contain your excitement). In the meantime here's my brief summary:

I celebrated Christmas (unlike Peter, I had pants on most of the time).

I spent time with family (I didn't want to, but apparently Christmas is a "family" holiday and so I was forced to interact with a bunch of enjoyable and funny relatives that I love—totally unfair!).

I cleaned up Christmas morning chaos (how do a handful of presents create mountains of packaging?).

I played with Peter's new toys (having a kid is awesome—I get to play with toys!).

And I fought to save Princess Peach on my new Nintendo DS Lite! (I have the best husband.)

Merry Christmas!

2008-12-25T12:57:00.002-07:00

My New Favorite Thing

2008-12-21T22:28:00.007-07:00

I've been hesitant to share my new favorite thing on my blog because whenever I talk about it I start gushing like a 13-year-old girl blathering about Edward from Twilight. I was worried that by adding extra letters to my words ("sooooo"), capitalizing every other word, never capitalizing "I", and using "like" and "totally" 12 times in 1 sentence (if I even bother with punctuation) that I would lose the respect of my readers. Then I realized two things: 1. I have few readers; and 2. You probably don't respect me anyway. So here is my post about my new favorite thing.

OH MY GOSH! i like totally love my new hair straightener its sooooo AWESOME and freakin hot! It makes me like so SAD that not everyone has one i mean just girls because DUH like why would boys need one unless they have like totally frizzy hair, ewww! My straightener is like the best thing EVERRRRRRR! Seriously, it has like changed my life, i LOOOOOVE it!

Okay, now that that is out of my system I can revert to my regular intelligence (a 15-year-old?). I got a new hair straightener (flat-iron) as an early Christmas present from Ryan (well, he paid for it). My old $27 Wal-Mart special straightener has never been very good (or straightening) so I've been wanting a new one for a long time but could never justify buying one. And while I don't need a straightener to straighten my hair (it's about as curly as pine needle) I do need one to depoof it. I have a ton of hair; for about the past 18 years I hear the same thing everytime I get my haircut, "Wow, you have soooo MUCH hair!" (No, I don't have 13-year-olds cut my hair.) Plus my hair is relatively coarse, so when you add the coarseness to the thickness I've got a bush on my head. I think hairstylists sometimes spend more time actually thinning my hair than cutting it into a style. So combined with a good blow dryer job, a straightener performs miracles by easily flattening my hair (or more accurately lessening the poodle effect). Unfortunately, I'm never able to acheive the same results that my hairstylists do; I've always chalked that up to my lack of skill and patience. It takes too much time to subdue this mane of mine and because my hair is as perky and persistent as a girl scout selling cookies, my hair usually poofs backs up a few hours later.

I've recently started having my friend Trianna do my hair (she is amazing) and complained to her (something most friends do together) about my poofy hair. She suggested I get a new straightener. After taking 2 seconds deciding to use her advice as my much needed reason to get a new one I asked her for her help. She generously picked a high-quality straightener out for me and then bought it with her professional discount. (This is Ryan's easiest Christmas gift for me ever; he just had to reimburse Trianna!) Well, I've been using it for a few days now and I am totally in love. It is so awesome the way it quickly wrangles my unruly hair into nice smooth locks of luscious hair. And the results last. Yep, my straightener is my new favorite thing and for good reasons.

(If you are wondering why I haven't included a picture of my gorgeously flat hair with this post, you do not know me at all.)

Update: After much pressure from Ryan I've decided to post photos of my hair (he says it is cowardly and dishonest to not give proof of my new favorite thing). So here are 2 not-so-good photos that give an idea of my hair; they were the best I could do.

I ♥ Photoshop

2008-12-17T07:35:00.000-07:00

Photoshop is the greatest thing ever created (besides Peter). Peter's best smiles for the camera never seem to coincide with a clean face or neutral background. But thanks to Photoshop I can turn this

into this

Now it's ready for grandparents and Christmas present worthy!

The Modern Age: iPod Meme

2008-12-15T19:30:00.004-07:00

Ryan and Peter enjoying some music on Ryan's iPod

Do you remember those awesome cootie catchers that all the girls did in elementary school? Somehow we all thought that a piece of precisely folded paper, sparkly gel pens and embarrassing questions were the key to our inner selves and future. Basically it was a playground magic 8 ball. Well, now that I am adult I no longer believe in the powers of cootie catchers (last week Ryan explained to me the truth about those). So I have turned to the wisdom of an Internet meme. I first saw this particular iPod meme a few months ago on a friend's blog and have since seen it in several different incarnations. Since I am in desperate need of cosmic guidance and introspection (my psychic is on vacation) I thought I would give this a whirl.

Put your iPod on Shuffle and hit play. For each question (they're in italics), press the next button to get your answer. The song title is the answer to the question. You must write down the name of the song no matter how silly it sounds! No cheating! Put any comments in brackets after the song name.

If someone says, “Is this okay?” I say?
"Lets Call It Off (Single Mix)" by Pete Bjorn & John
[Apparently I’m either afraid of commitment or have unrealistic expectations of perfection.]

How would I describe myself?
"A Time to be So Small" by Interpol
[How does my iPod know I hate being short? Is my Napoleon complex that obvious?]

How do I feel today?
"Holiday in Spain/Big Yellow Taxi" by Counting Crows[Okay, so I don’t ever remember hearing this song before and now that I’m listening to it I’ve decided that this will be the last time. But I would like to have a holiday in Spain.]

What's my life's purpose?
"Breathe" by Prodigy
[Wow, thanks for the vote of confidence! My iPod hates me.]

What's my theme song?
"Let’s Face the Music and Dance" by Frank Sinatra
[Interesting. I’m usually a run and hide kind of person. And my dancing? The less said about it the better (this girl’s got no rhythm).]

What does everyone else think my theme song is?
"Behind the Wheel" by Depeche Mode
[As a control freak I don't like to be a passenger, at least a quiet one. Do what I say!]

What do my friends think of me?
"Little Things" by Bush
[Hmmm…multiple ways to take this. 1. They all think I’m short (what does my iPod have against short people?); 2. They think I do very little for them; 3. Or according to the lyrics “the little things that kill,” my friends think I’m a psycho killer. I think I’ll take number 1]

What do I think of my friends?
"Pinball Wizard" by the Who
[Really, you should see them in action.]

What do I think of my parents?
"Dancing in Heaven" by Q Feel
[Well, my parents aren’t dead. But since there is no song on my iPod entitled “They are way awesome” I guess this will have to do. The funny thing about this song is whenever I hear it I flashback to me bouncing up and down in the backseat of my mom’s VW Rabbit with this song on the car radio.]

What do I think about very often?
"So Much Things to Say" by Bob Marley
[I guess there’s too many things that I think about that I can only tell you there are a lot of things. Also, I think all these things with bad grammar.]

What is 2+2?
"Photograph" by Weezer
[I always take photos of myself solving complex arithmetic problems—I need proof that I can do 1st grade math.]

What do I think of my best friend?
"Full Fathom Five" by the Stone Roses
[That doesn’t even make sense.]

What do I think of the person I like?
"Takin’ Care of Business" by Bachman Turner Overdrive
[So that’s probably more information than you wanted to know about Ryan and me!]

What do I think of when I see the person I like?
"Cold Brains" by Beck
[Crap, now I’m in trouble. I just want to say that this is a silly little meme and means absolutely nothing. I love you Ryan (plus I think you have HOT brains.]

What's my life story?
"1973" by James Blunt
[Well since I wasn’t born in 1973 maybe this means something that happened in 1973 is my life story. So here’s a sampling of important events from that year: Nixon’s 2nd inauguration, Roe v. Wade, Vietnam War ends, Watergate, Dark Side of the Moon by Pink Floyd released, the Yom Kippur War.]

What do I want to be when I grow up?
"Knights of Cydonia" by Muse
[I love this song. It would be pretty cool to be a Knight of Cydonia—then I’d could hang out with Muse.]

What will I dance to at my wedding?
"Brand New Colony" by The Postal Service
[I hope this doesn’t mean I will be married again. I’m quite pleased with the colony Ryan and I have started.]

What will they play at my funeral?
"Here With Me" by Dido
[I guess I will be a ghost.]

How will I be remembered?

"One Slip" by Pink Floyd

[Is this referring to my death (I am a klutz) or to my parents one slip up? The fact this song is on the album entitled, "A Momentary Lapse of Reason" lends credence to the parents theory. I'm a mistake.]

What is my hobby/interest?

"This is the Place" by Red Hot Chili Peppers
[Is that referring to my computer or to my house? Well, I guess both are true.]

What is my biggest fear?

"High" by James Blunt

[Another multi-pronged answer; is it referring to heights or marijuana? Neither scares me, but I’m a little perturbed with my iPod because I don’t even really like James Blunt and yet he pops up twice on this.]

What is my biggest secret?

"Linger" by The Cranberries
[If you stick around I’ll tell you.]

How can I make myself happy?

"In the Arms of Sleep" by The Smashing Pumpkins

[I know my dad will probably accuse me of cheating on this one but I didn't. I love sleep, sleep makes me happy! And now I have the blessing of the iTunes meme to sleep as much as I want or at least as much as Peter will let me.]

What should I do with my life?

"One Night in Bangkok" by Murray Head

[Shoot, I was hoping for some real guidance here and instead I got a partial vacation itinerary. I feel cheated; I want more than one night.]

What is some good advice for me?

"Aliens Exist" by Blink-182

[In the next few weeks I will be moving to Roswell, New Mexico to take take a job at the UFO Museum and Research Center. There I will be able to combine my degree in Art History and Curatorial Studies with my new belief in aliens. Please plan on visiting me, I would love to have visitors (including those of an extraterrestrial nature.)]

What will I post this as?

"The Modern Age" by The Strokes
[Hey, that’s kind of cute because only in the modern age could I be doing a meme for my blog using my iPod.]

Now that I'm done I'm thinking that maybe this has the same reliabilty factor as a cootie catcher. But then again I probably feel that way because I’m still ticked about the James Blunt repeat (you’d think that with almost 10,000 songs I wouldn’t have any repeat artists) and the Counting Crows' song. And I’ve probably offended Ryan. I guess my iPod doesn’t know me very well (except for the whole short thing). I better finish this post; I need to find a 4th grade girl to reteach me how to make a cootie catcher.

Crap!

2008-12-11T07:05:00.000-07:00

You know you're a parent when your husband calls to you from upstairs with the words, "Hey, Kristin. Do you want to see the BIGGEST poop ever?" When did my life get so crappy? (I'm sorry, I couldn't resist!) I remember when Ryan and I used to discuss important topics. You know like who has the largest nose in our neighborhood, or why do beans cause gas. Okay, so maybe our conversations weren't always composed of mature topics, contemplative observations, or witty banter, but it is amazing how a having a baby really pitched our conversations into the crapper. Sorry, it's just too easy to make crap jokes—see what parenthood has done to me (if I was honest I would admit that I've always had a fondess for potty humor, now I just have an excuse.) Oh, and Ryan was referring to Peter's poop, just in case you were wondering.

Oops...Don't Play With That

2008-12-09T22:22:00.008-07:00

Recently I was going through some boxes to help dejunk and organize my house—not an easy task with a toddler who has his own ideas of where things belong (does anyone else keep their spatulas on a shoe rack?). In one box I found a desktop punching bag I had given Ryan several years ago as a stocking stuffer. If you flick it says 4 different phrases: 1) You're Fired, 2) Make My Day, 3) Back Off, and 4) You Jerk. It's pretty lame even for a $3 gag gift (hence finding it a box). But since Peter doesn't have a clear grasp of what is cool and what is lame yet, he loves it. He's been carrying it around the house for a few days now.

But tonight I robbed my sweet son of his new companion and evidence of poor taste, by throwing it away (yes, I know I'm the one with the poor taste because I'm the adult who actually paid money for it). I just had this awful thought that even though Peter can't talk yet he might somehow bust out with one of those 4 phrases. Wouldn't it be awesome to record in Peter's baby book that his first words were "You Jerk!" Or wouldn't I love to hear him yell "Back off!" to his pediatrician or tell his nursery leader, "You're fired!" Yep, I certainly couldn't let that happen—I must at least retain the appearance of being a good mom.

The Angry Drunk

2008-12-07T22:13:00.015-07:00

For over a year Peter's pediatrician and I have been concerned about Peter's language skills. We expected Peter to have delays in several (if not all) developmental areas because he was 5 weeks premature, but his language delays seemed to be more severe than what prematurity could account for. Earlier this year, two separate Speech and Language Pathologists (SLPs)identified Peter as having profound delays in both receptive and expressive language. At 18 months, his language skills were placed at the level of a 4 or 5 month old infant. This delay was one of many factors in Peter being diagnosed with an Autism Spectrum Disorder.

Peter's developmental pediatrician, SLP, and I wondered if part of Peter's severe language delays were caused in part to Auditory Neuropathy. Auditory Neuropathy is a hearing disorder in which sound enters the inner ear normally but the transmission of signals from the inner ear to the brain is impaired. For example, a person with Auditory Neuropathy may be able to hear sounds, but would still have difficulty recognizing spoken words. Sounds may fade in and out for these individuals and seem out of sync. We knew from hearing tests Peter had at birth and at 15 months that he was not hearing impaired. However, he continued to show signs of a hearing loss including severe to profound delays in language, poor speech perception, hypo and hypersensitivities to noise, and difficulties in getting his attention (although in recent months he's been getting better in all these areas).

Fortunately, it is very easy to test for Auditory Neuropathy. A diagnosis requires a normal or positive OAE (that's the simple test they usually give newborns in the hospital) and an abnormal Auditory Brainstem Response (ABR). Peter already had two normal OAEs so he just needed to have a sedation ABR. The test monitors brain wave activity in response to sound using electrodes that are placed on the person's head and ears and it must be performed on a resting/quiet person. And since it is impossible to get a toddler to lay quietly for over an hour toddlers are sedated for the test. Normal sedation causes brain activity to decrease, so toddlers are given a conscious sedation. This combined with prior sleep deprivation allows people to sleep soundly during the test.

Peter finally had the ABR this past Wednesday (after almost 3 months of waiting to get in!). Per the doctor's instructions, Peter could not go to bed until midnight Tuesday night. We then woke him a few minutes before 6 am and gave him 4 ounces of apple juice. Peter was not allowed to have any solid food or milk after midnight, and nothing including water after 6:30. Once Peter was awake we couldn't let him nap for even 5 minutes. I had to sit in the backseat with him on our 50 minute drive to Primary Children's Hospital to keep him awake. We arrived at the hospital at 8:45 am. After being admitted, the nurse put an ID tag on Peter's ankle that he furiously tried to get off.

Up to that point Peter had been incredibly good. When Ryan and I had received the instructions to cut 6 hours out of Peter's sleep the night before and to not feed him in the morning, we thought that Peter would be a nightmare. This is a boy who hates getting up early in the morning (so much like his mother!) and wants a bottle of milk as soon as he is awake. So we were pleasantly surprised when Peter was so calm Wednesday morning (apparently sleep deprivation occasionally has its benefits). Over the next hour we met with a couple of nurses, the audiologist, and the anaesthesiologist to discuss the sedation, test, etc. Peter stayed busy and awake during this hour by playing with the hospital bed in the room. Now he wants a bed with buttons that light up, move the bed, and call a nurse.

At 10 Peter was sedated. Because it wasn't meant to knock him out, I had to rock him to sleep. He fell asleep after about 10 minutes of rocking and listening to me sing (I think he fell asleep to escape my awful voice). At that point I put him in the hospital crib and the nurse hooked him up to various monitors. (I know the picture below is really dark, but I didn't want a flash to wake him up and the photos taken at an higher ISO were too noisy to use.) The audiologist then came in and put two electrodes on Peter's forehead, one behind each ear, and a small earphone in each ear. Then she began the test and Ryan fell asleep.

The audiologist finished the test in under an hour. I immediately knew that the test had gone well because if the test doesn't take the full 90 to 120 minutes that usually means few or no problems were found. After waking Ryan up, the audiologist then gave us the good news: Peter definitely does not have Audiotory Neuropathy and the results of the ABR combined with previous testing rule out any auditory issues! Peter already has enough working against him so we were both very excited and relieved by the results.

Next came the fun part: we had to wake Peter up. The anesthesiologist warned us that it might take a little while for Peter to wake up and that when he did he might act a "little drunk." Their plan was to wake him, give him some juice, and then observe him for 30 minutes up to several hours. They wanted to make sure that Peter wasn't too nauseated, could keep liquids down, and that his gross motor skills were close to normal. So we spent over 15 minutes trying to wake him up (it's amazing what a wet washcloth and picking his nose can do!).

Once he was awake, Peter was one cranky kid. When the doctor said Peter would act drunk, he wasn't kidding. But instead of getting the maudlin drunk or the crazy drunk, we got the angry drunk. Now I should have seen this coming because both times Ryan has come out of anaesthesia since we've been married he's been an absolute beast. He's angry and he swears more in 1 minute than he usually does in 1 year. Peter was pretty much the same (minus the swearing). He cried, screamed, kicked and thrashed. He really wanted to run but considering he couldn't even sit up without falling that was not an option. His equilibrium was completely off and his muscles were like noodles. He refused to drink anything and basically wouldn't do anything but scream and try to get down from the crib or Ryan's arms. The anaesthesiologist decided to go ahead and send Peter home. He said that if he was fighting us as much as he was, he was probably okay. So we headed home with a raging kid and a stack of instructions. Fortunately, Peter went to sleep when we got home. When he woke up that evening he had transformed into a loopy and fun drunk. Lots of staggering, lots of tumbles (don't worry, we kept him away from hard and sharp objects), lots of laughs and lots of goofy grins. Now we just need to convince him midnight is not a reasonable bedtime!

Mmm...New Carpet Smell

2008-12-02T21:14:00.002-07:00

I think I am officially domesticated (and lame). If someone would have told me when I was fifteen that as an adult new carpet and doors would make me happy I would have laughed; what kind of pathetic person gets excited about those things? ME!

When Ryan and I bought our house we planned on immediately replacing the carpet in the family room, the bedrooms and on the stairs (I'd post a picture of the old carpet but then I would be completely embarrassed). Unfortunately, reality set in and other less expensive house projects took precedence. Now 4 ½ years later we finally have new carpet. AND I LOVE IT (because I am lame). Seriously, this is one of the best things to have happened to me all year (so, I like to exaggerate a bit). As soon as the installer finished laying the carpet in the family room I ran down there and spent a good 10 minutes doing carpet angels (I'm easily entertained). And every time I come home I stand just inside the door and deeply inhale the lovely new carpet smell. Not only does the carpet smell good, it feels good. I've stopped wearing socks despite the cold winter temperatures just so I can run my feet over the soft, springy fibers. I'm sure if my fifteen-year-old self could see/feel/smell my new carpet she would think it was pretty awesome.

Peter thinks the new carpet is awesome too. Well, actually he just liked the wide open room and the carpet remnants. If you turn the volume up high enough you can hear his heavy breathing from all the running he was doing!

We also put in new french doors that lead out to the backyard. The previous doors were almost as hashed as the carpet (parts of exterior molding fell off when I tried cleaning them). And the blinds on them have been broken for years. So Ryan and I decided to replace the doors. We ended up buying the the french doors with the built in blinds (they tilt and raise with simple sliders). Whoever came up with the idea to put the blinds between the glass is a genius (anyone who makes a product that requires little or no dusting qualifies for genius status). A big part of the decision to get these was the awful visions I had of 6-year-old Peter running in and out of those doors 800 times a day. The idea of hearing the blinds rattle everytime he threw open the doors and slammed them shut was more than I could handle. So no dusting, and reduced noise sold me. My dad and Opa generously offered to install them to help save Ryan and me money (the cost for professional installation was over half the price for the doors). And since they are both incredibly skilled in construction we knew they would do a great job (they had to because I know where they live!). Thank you Dad and Opa! We really appreciate your help. Without you I couldn't do carpet angels on my new carpet while looking out my new doors (does life get any better than that?).

One Thanksgiving, One Location

2008-11-30T23:35:00.003-07:00

For the past five years Thanksgiving has been a bit of a headache (in addition to the expected stomachache!) and a logistical nightmare. Usually Ryan and I are trying to hit two (sometimes three) family Thanksgiving dinners. When we got married we came up with an awesome plan that we would switch off where we spent Thanksgiving and Christmas in order to be fair. So the first year we had Thanksgiving with Ryan's family and Christmas with my family, and then the next year it was Thanksgiving with my family and Christmas with his, etc. Now this would be all fine and dandy and simple except that our parents live less than five minutes away from each other. So there is really no excuse not to see both families on holidays. The result is an hour by hour breakdown where Ryan and I travel back and forth between the two homes (we waste more gas on holidays than any other day). And we always visit my Oma and Opa who also live close by. So depending on where my parents are at for Thanksgiving (usually at Oma and Opa's) we have at least two dinners to catch (or consume).

But this year we got a rest—we spent an entire day at ONE HOUSE! A bunch of my mom's family came to Utah for Thanksgiving so we spent the holiday with my family. It's been about 13 years since I have spent Thanksgiving with some of my mom's family. It was so much fun to see my Grandma and Grandpa W., Aunt Robbie and her family, and Uncle Brian and his family. And since I forgot to bring my camera so you will have to imagine lots of yummy food, beautiful table decorations, lots of laughter and more than a few "inappropriate jokes and/or comments" (my Uncle Brian and I should be separated at all serious family functions!). Or you can just look at the Norman Rockwell painting above. It looks exactly like our Thanksgiving dinner this year except my mom and dad are about thirty years younger, no one wore suits, my parents' dining room is a different color, the food was served buffet style, no fruit bowls were in sight, and I'm pretty sure none of my uncles made eye contact with a painter.

Happy Turkey Day!

2008-11-27T07:00:00.006-07:00

My aunt Robbie sent me this photo and I couldn't resist using it!

I thought I would share a few quotes on Thanksgiving.

"I celebrated Thanksgiving in an old-fashioned way. I invited everyone in my neighborhood to my house, we had an enormous feast, and then I killed them and took their land." —Jon Stewart
"Thanksgiving is America's national chow-down feast, the one occasion each year when gluttony becomes a patriotic duty (in France, by contrast, there are three such days: Hier, Aujourd'hui and Demain)." —Michael Dresser

Thanksgiving is my second favorite holidy (Christmas is first ofcourse!). Unfortunately, I need an annual holiday to remind myself of all my blessings. For me Thanksgiving is a time to be with family and to express gratitude. It's also a time to rededicate myself in matching my actions to my feelings of gratitude. I love the following quote by President John F. Kennedy:

"As we express our gratitude, we must never foreget that the highest
expectation is not to utter words, but to live by them."

I think Thanksgiving is a perfect start to the holiday season; it sets the tone as we celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ during the month of December. That's why I'm so bothered by the way Halloween and Christmas are squeezing out Thanksgiving. I love the Christmas season but I don't want it's ever earlier celebrations to demote Thanksgiving to simply a day off dedicated to food and football. Andy Rooney from 60 Minutes may be a crazy old coot but I thought he did a great job decrying the passing over of Thanksgiving.

All right, go eat your turkey and pumpkin pie.

The Killers

2008-11-25T23:09:00.002-07:00

The Killers new album "Day & Age" was released today! So between listening that and fighting with a toddler who refuses to eat and sleep (the exact opposite of an infant) I'm busy. So instead of wasting your time reading my ramblings you can watch one of their music videos and check out their website.

Hair Pressure

2008-11-23T22:56:00.011-07:00

Peter pre-haircut

I must be a weak person—I've finally succumbed to all the peer pressure regarding Peter's hair. I loved his crazy curly hair. I thought it made him unique in a family full of straight hair and it definitely added to his boisterous persona (because running around and screaming isn't enough). Unfortunately, there is a group of dissenters out there that do not appreciate Peter's luscious locks (jealous, perhaps?!). It's too long, he looks like a girl, it's scruffy, he looks like a baby, he has a mullet, blah blah blah blah blah.

I finally got tired of hearing those well-meaning (but wrong) pleadings. So on Friday I decided to make Ryan and the others happy (but mainly Ryan because I just love him so much!) and took Peter to get his second haircut. I was more than a little worried because his first haircut this past April produced many tears. But this time around Peter was a trooper. He stayed still and didn't cry a single time. Generally, he didn't look happy (and why should he, he was having his awesome hair cut off!) but he did crack a smile at the end. The lady who cut his hair layered it to emphasize the natural waves and curl in Peter's hair (I think that means Peter is a metrosexual). I like his compromise haircut; his hair still has some length and curl, but it is off his neck, out of his eyes, and clean-cut around the ears. Peter was happy because he got to play for 15 minutes on the store's slide when his haircut was done.

I think Peter enjoyed his first haircut in April, don't you?

A much happier, quieter and calmer second haircut

Playing on the slide

I Learned My Lesson

2008-11-18T22:27:00.007-07:00

I must be a slow learner because I am continually surprised at how quickly such a little guy like Peter can make a massive mess. Yesterday I left him in his booster seat for two minutes while I ran downstairs to move a load of laundry from the washer to the dryer. We had just finished lunch (yes, Peter was still wearing his pj's at lunchtime) and Peter only had a partial graham cracker and half a sippy cup of milk left. What could he possibly do in a few minutes while I was out of the room? Hearing Peter's gleeful giggling coming from the kitchen made me realize that probably a lot could happen! Clearly waving around an upside-down sippy cup is just so much fun (I'm thinking of trying it out during Thanksgiving dinner)!

Because Peter is still struggling (or is it me struggling) to get more than an ounce at a time from a sippy cup, I've been taking the valve out to make it easier for him to suck; dumb, dumb, dumb. Valve-less sippy cup + no supervision = very messy kitchen (and a very wet but happy Peter). And since I am such a tyrant of a mother I put the valve back in. As you can see from the picture below Peter was a bit perturbed with me (I don't know why, it's not like he had to clean up everything).

What a Cannibal!

2008-11-16T22:15:00.000-07:00

Earlier this week I decided to stop being a shrew about Greek food (but just for one day) and went to a Greek restaurant with Ryan; he had been craving a gyro for a while. So I agreed to go along with the understanding that I could call gyros, "jai-rohs" all night without recieving an extensive Greek language lesson. Apparently in Greece gyro is pronounced "yee-roh" (last time I checked we're not in Greece so why pronounce it that stupid way). So there we were having a happy family dinner when Ryan decided to feed Peter some of his gyro and he (Peter) liked it way more than my chicken souvlaki! What's the problem with that you ask? Ryan's gyro was LAMB! Again, you ask what's the problem? Peter is supposed to feed sheep, not eat them! Don't worry, I'll explain.

For those who don't know, Peter's full name is Peter Churchill [Surname]. He is named after two of my heros: the Apostle Peter and Winston Churchill. Peter has always been my favorite figure from the scriptures because he always seemed so human and passionate (I can relate to him). I envy his relationship with and testimony of the Lord. I really couldn't think of a better person to name my son after, and luckily (for him) Ryan agreed. And of course Peter fit all of my name requirements (it would be an understatement to say I am obsessed with names--I waste way too much time on my theories and rules about naming).

And there was an extra bonus that came along with the name Peter: sheep. In the often quoted scripture St. John 21:15-17, Jesus Christ asks Peter if he loves Him. Peter affirms that he does. Jesus then tells Peter to "feed my sheep." Through his name, our Peter would have a constant reminder of the importance of missionary work. That combined with my fondness for sheep (I think I took more pictures of sheep while in Ireland than anything else!) I chose a sheep theme for Peter's nursery. I thought it was particularly appropriate for him considering his namesake. So for almost 2 years Peter has been slumbering surrounded by numerous sheep on his bedding and multiple plush sheep on his shelves. So I find it more than a little disturbing than Peter not only ate lamb but that he liked it so much.

Peter's quilt

Peter sleeping surrounded by sheep

I ♥ Family

2008-11-13T22:43:00.012-07:00

Oma & Opa with all five of their great-grandchildren. At least a few of them smiled!

So I'm going to milk this past weekend for another blog post (it was a big weekend)! Definitely one of the best parts of having the surprise party was having so many family members there. It was wonderful to catch up with people that I hadn't seen in a long time. For the last 10 years many of my out of state cousins have come to Utah to attend college; Sunday dinners at Oma and Opa's became very crowded and fun. Unfortunately, a lot of them have moved away to various distant locations (my cousin Krista is in Dominica!). And now it seems like all my younger cousins are going to Idaho for college. So it was great to have such a large family gathering.

My cousin Quinten, his wife Kate, and their 3 children decided to drive up from Arizona at the last minute. I was really excited when I found out they were coming. I haven't seen them in over 3 years and I had never met their youngest child Paige. I had fun catching up with Kate and Peter had fun running around with his second cousins.

Peter with his second cousins: Paige, Rhaegan, Sam & Tyson

Peter had a lot of fun playing with Paige and "showing off" for her. Isn't Paige adorable!

55 Years!

2008-11-11T22:05:00.013-07:00

My grandparents (Oma and Opa) had their 55th wedding anniversary on October 23rd. No one in the family made a big deal about it because we are all too self absorbed and busy...no, actually we had a surprise party planned for them this past weekend. My dad and his four siblings thought that 55 years of marriage is something worth celebrating (that and they did nothing for their parents' 50th!). So family came from all across the country (Washington, Idaho, Arizona, California, Ohio, and Pennsylvania) and hid out until Saturday afternoon. Through lies and deception (the foundation of every good surprise) my dad brought Oma and Opa to the church where we were waiting. I really think it meant it a lot to them to have their children and grandchildren gather together to celebrate them and their marriage. All five of their children were there and 12 of their 18 grandchildren came along with all 5 of their great-grandchildren (not that my grandparents look old enough to have great-grandchildren. I love you Oma!).

I also think my grandparents liked having a large family meal where they didn't have to cook (both are amazing cooks)! My mom and aunts had prepared mounds (I'm not kidding) of yummy food and my cousin Kayla and her husband Kent helped things stay interesting and fun with several games. My mom and I (translation: my mom) were responsible for the decorations. My mom came up with some awesome ideas (like usual) and asked me to figure out a way to display Oma and Opa's wedding pictures. I cleaned them up in Photoshop and added a background and did other miscellaneous things to them which no one but me would ever care about. (As you read in the previous post, I did this all twice thanks to my computer crashing. I didn't get my computer back until after the party so I had to redo everything on my parents' computer.) I put them all on a CD and had them printed at Alphagraphics on nice thick and glossy 11x14 paper. I think they turned out great (my grandpa wanted all of them).

One of my favorite photos from Oma and Opa's wedding

Anyway I think Saturday was a success. I think we all made my grandparents really happy--both cried (Opa said he just had something in his eyes!). Marriage isn't always easy and so seeing my grandparents still in love after 55 years was awesome. They are definitely an inspiration.

Stupid Computer, Stupid Me

2008-11-08T22:53:00.007-07:00

I learned an incredibly valuable lesson this week: back up all important (and non-important) files on the computer. So Wednesday night our computer crashed; I was the unlucky recipient of the "Blue screen of Death" (is that supposed to be some kind of sick joke designed to make people go into shock). After trying for an hour to get my computer to boot I was able to determine that it was the hard drive (and then I did what every mature adult does, I cried and cried).

Of course this all happened as I was finishing up an extensive Photoshop project for my Grandparents' surprise 55th wedding anniversary party (that's 10 hours of my life I'll never get back). And then I had the sickening realization that I am dork (yes, I should have figured that out years ago). I hadn't backed up anything on my computer for over a year. Bye bye over 1,000 pictures of Peter, financial and tax records, 50 GB of music on iTunes, and my perfectly edited "favorites" list on Internet Explorer! I could handle losing everything except for the photographs (I don't think Peter would enjoy being squished into 3 month sized clothing to recreate photos).

Well, Thursday morning I dropped off the computer at a local computer data recovery shop where I begged the owner to save my photos. To be honest I didn't have much hope that anything could be saved from the hard drive, but the shop owner reassured me that he was 90% confident that he could recover all or most of our data. And since the guy was wearing a comic book t-shirt, a ratty hoodie, wrinkled pants, and had unkempt hair and the pale skin of someone who spends most of his time indoors behind a computer screen, I completely trusted him. We got a call today from the guy that everything had been recovered and transferred to the new hard drive. Ryan is the one that picked up the computer (I think he was afraid I would actually kiss the guy because I was so happy). So now I am happily reloading programs. And I'm doing something I should have done numerous times before: I'm backing up everything!

E is One!

2008-11-05T13:44:00.009-07:00

Happy Birthday E! You are adorable and so much fun. Peter's very lucky to have you as a friend (he likes showing off for you).

Congratulations President Obama!

2008-11-04T21:25:00.000-07:00

Well, I'm listening to John McCain's concession speech right now. While I admire Sen. McCain (I voted for him in the primaries of 2000), I'm very happy with today's results.

Election Day

2008-11-03T22:57:00.008-07:00

Tomorrow is a big day (and it's not because Lindsay Lohan is releasing a new album, gag!). Go Obama!

My Little Puppy

2008-11-02T20:55:00.005-07:00

So Ryan and I decided to take Peter on a practice run of trick-or-treating (because it is just so hard asking for free candy!) on Thursday night. We dressed him up in his costume (as an adorable and smell-free puppy) and took him to see his grandparents. Our first stop was Oma's (my Grandma P). She gave Peter a cute book and an adorable little bear dressed in a pumpkin costume that giggles and says, "Happy Halloween". While it definitely has not replaced Big Walter, Peter keeps nuzzling it. I'm hoping his first words aren't "Happy Halloween."Next we went to see Ryan's parents (Grandma & Grandpa T). Five of Peter's cousins were there meaning he recieved plenty of attention. We then wrapped up the night by visting my parents (Grandma & Grandap P) and my brother Kyle and his wife Renae. Unfortunately, Peter arrived in his pajamas with his costume in a grocery bag (he decided to pick fights with a bottle of milk and a sippy cup of apple juice—obviously he lost).

On Halloween I took Peter trick-or-treating . Peter was very confused at the first house when they tried giving him candy, but by the third house he became a fan of getting things from people. We ended up going to about 15 houses; Peter just kept walking and pulling me to down the street (more candy for me!). Once we got home he promptly dumped his loot out and organized it. He really didn't understand that it was candy but thought that people had given him lots of small colorful toys. First he sorted the candy on our living room coffee table then moved them up to my room. He laid the candy out in a line on Ryan's side of the bed and left (fortunately for Ryan and me, Peter has not remembered his candy).

Oh, I had to include a picture of Peter on Halloween 2007. What a cute farmer!

Mmm...Candy Corn

2008-10-31T11:36:00.004-06:00

Today is Halloween (I can read a calendar!) and that means my days are numbered…my days with candy corn that is. There is just something about those tricolor triangles I can't get enough of. Candy corn is the best Halloween candy—definitely not those weird and hard half peanut butter-half taffy misconcoctions (like my new word?) wrapped in black and orange. Candy corn is Halloween (just like Peeps are Easter and conversation hearts are Valentine’s Day).

I think candy corn is the perfect candy for Halloween because neither one of them makes much sense. I mean October 31st is dually a cutesy and fun day populated with princesses, cowboys, and ladybugs; and a gruesome and satanic day infested with serial killers, vampires, and skanks. I love candy corn even though they don’t taste that great. The bag makes a big deal about them being made with real honey. I can’t taste the honey (or the corn either). And why are they white, orange, and yellow striped? If I husked a cob of corn and saw that it had white, orange, and yellow kernels, I would ask for my money back. Well, I think I will end this post so I can go finish my last handful (or 14 handfuls) of candy corn until next year. I apologize for wasting your time with my musings on candy corn (I'll send you a bag to make up for it).

My Kid is Way Cooler Than Your Kid

2008-10-28T21:53:00.007-06:00

Yep, it's true; Peter is the coolest kid around (just ignore the previous post!). Check him out. He's got the Van's shoes with the flaming skulls (thank you Sallie & Geoff). He has the awesome black Hurley skater pants complete with studs on the pockets (thank you Mom & Dad). And he has a black t-shirt featuring a tricked-out trike (thank you Tara & Joe). But I'm pretty sure Peter got his coolness/awesomeness from me (yes, I am delusional). Don't you love the serious look on his face? I guess Peter was trying out his biker look.

Oh Peter, You're So Pretty

2008-10-26T23:24:00.002-06:00

I can’t wait until Peter is 13 and has a group of his friends at our house; I also can’t wait to meet his first serious girlfriend. Why? Well, so I can bust out with “Oh, Peter do you remember when you were 1 ½ and you <insert embarrassing behavior or action. > You were so adorable.” (Of course I’ll say this while pinching his cheek.) It will be hilarious to embarrass my son (hey, my parents did it, your parents did it, and you’ll do it to your kids, too!) And Peter has given me some rather good ammunition these past two weeks. I can already hear him wretchedly moaning, “Moooooooommmmm!”

One morning two weeks ago, I put my hairbrush on the bathroom counter after brushing my hair. A couple of minutes later when I went to pick it up, it was gone. Now this is nothing new—Peter loves to clear off my bathroom counter by taking everything I touch and putting it in either the bathtub, trashcan, or hallway. But this time I turned around and Peter was behind me trying to brush his hair with my brush. A few minutes later I found him with my eyelash curler; he would shut one of his eyes and press the closed curler against his eyelid; I guess he thought his ridiculously long eyelashes needed a bit of curl. (It should be against the laws of nature for a boy to have longer eyelashes than his mother!) Now, Peter brushing his hair and curling his eyelashes probably don’t seem like a big deal, but they are actually very exciting developments. They are the first time Peter has spontaneously imitated a task-oriented action not dealing with food. Toddlers on the Autism Spectrum often don’t mimic everyday activities. So, GO PETER!

(Unfortunately, every time I tried taking his picture, Peter would lower the eyelash curler so he could see the camera with both eyes)

Well, Peter has repeated his beautifying routine several times while picking up a new favorite activity: he loves to empty out my makeup bag. He then lines all the products up on the floor, and then transports them individually into his room (he seems to be particularly fond of the MAC eye shadow). I don’t know who enjoys this new play sequence more, Peter or me (it’s great fun to watch Ryan roll his eyes when he sees Peter do this). Now while the makeup sorting and eyelash curler are embarrassing, I think Peter did something last Friday that will cause his cheeks to turn permanently red when he’s older. As I was putting on my bra Friday, Peter started shaking his shoulders and bending his knees. I couldn't figure out what he was doing until I realized that that is what I do! I never paid attention before, but when I put on my bra I twist my shoulders and slightly bounce my knees (basically a mild shimmy). Yes, Peter imitated my putting on my bra. And he did it again yesterday. Maybe it’s time Peter starts watching Ryan get ready in the mornings (5:00 am wakeup call for Peter!).

My Goopy Kid

2008-10-23T08:00:00.001-06:00

Peter is sick again with another cold. That brings his cold count to the following: 2 colds in October and 900 colds since the beginning of June (alright maybe it’s only been 6, but it sure feels like 900). During the first fifteen months of his illustrious life Peter had a total of 2 minor colds (just the sniffles really). I guess I was bragging about that too much so the cosmos decided to humble me. There is nothing more humbling than a goopy, cranky kid crying over everything (apparently having your 3” tall block tower fall over is incredibly upsetting).

Peter is miserable and I wish there was more I could do for him. Unfortunately, you can’t give cold medicine to kiddos his age. He has to be satisfied with a cute frog humidifier, saline nose drops, and the much detested bulb syringe (and lots of naps and hugs). Peter hates the bulb syringe and I don’t blame him—I wouldn’t like someone sticking that in my nose. But I think I would hate BEING a bulb syringe even more. If by some crazy Disney-esque fluke I’m turned into a household product (à la Beauty and the Beast) being a bulb syringe would definitely be on my “Ew-That-Is-So-Gross-I’ll-Be-Anything-But-That” list. (Toilet plunger and anal thermometer would also be on the list.) Who would want to be a snot sucker forever?

I ♥ McDonald's Monopoly

2008-10-21T07:00:00.004-06:00

October was Ryan’s favorite month before he married me. Watching MLB playoffs, attending BYU football games, following every NFL game—what more could a guy want? Then I came along and I brought with me an enthusiasm (okay, I admit it’s really an obsession) with McDonald’s Monopoly. McDonald’s yearly Monopoly promotion really is a brilliant move. They entice thousands of non-customers into their restaurants with the lure of winning a million dollars. And they encourage their regular customers to come more often. I mean if a person can win a million dollars by simply drinking Diet Coke, why not? It sure is easier than eating bugs while living for 39 days in a remote location with 15 other incredibly smelly people!

Has anyone ever won the million? I don’t know, but I do know not too many people have won the lesser cash prizes. And yet this does not hamper my passion. I just KNOW I am going to win (of course I have thought this for several years). Every October I quite simply get giddy at the idea of peeling off a new game piece from my food wrapper. And poor Ryan kindly eats more McDonald’s food in those 3 weeks in October than he does in the other 49 weeks of the year. I just simply have to collect as many game pieces as possible without actually eating a Big Mac (no amount of money will make me do that). And since they started the online game a few years ago, my quest for game pieces has intensified. When I was pregnant 2 years ago, I was known to ask other people for their game pieces instead of throwing them away—it’s amazing how little shame I had when pregnant! I am pathetic, but I can’t deny the embarrassing truth: I heart McDonald’s Monopoly. Please don't think less of me.

Poor Big Walter

2008-10-19T21:19:00.013-06:00

I would like to introduce Big Walter, Peter's lovie and best buddy. Ryan and I suspect Peter loves this dumb dog more than us. Big Walter is seldom more than five feet from Peter (meaning I am required to devise detailed covert operations worthy of the CIA to get him into the washing machine without Peter’s knowledge). And we certainly could never put Peter to bed or down for a nap without his lovie (we have tried and are hoping our hearing returns one day). Yes, Big Walter is a necessity in Peter’s mind.

Why a white and red dog with a rose in its mouth? Good question, I will ask Peter for an explanation as soon as he can talk. Big Walter was originally a last-minute gift from Ryan on Valentine’s Day 2007 (2 days after Peter’s birth). I named the dog Walter (yes, I still name stuffed animals) and he became my new sleep buddy (no, I didn’t kick Ryan out) that I used every night (yes, I still sleep with a stuffed animal). Then when Peter spent his first night away from home in August of ’07, I sent Walter along so Peter would have something that smelled like me. Well, when we picked Peter up from my mom’s 18 hours later a deep and lasting love affair had begun between Peter and Walter. Because Peter already had a pacifier named Walter (a story for another day), MY WALTER THAT WAS RUDELY TAKEN FROM ME was renamed Big Walter.

poor Big Walter being squished by Peter Dec. 2007

Now over a year later, Big Walter is showing his age; his fur is now grey, not white; his collar ribbon and ribbon rose are badly fraying; his stuffing is considerably flat; he has small stains covering him; and he has an overall feeling of fragility. But the worst part is that he smells bad (no, he does not still smell like me). I’ve lost count of how many times I have spot cleaned him and put him in the washing machine, and yet the smell lightly persists. I fear that he can only withstand a few more washings before falling apart. Big Walter needs and deserves retirement, but convincing Peter of this is impossible. So I have spent more hours than I am willing to admit scouring the Internet for a replacement. Apparently, Big Walters are very rare (or are all in various landfills across the globe) because I can’t find one. And my search has been made harder because I carefully cut the tag off over a year ago, so I have no idea who made the ugly thing. I’ve tried looking through our financial records to see where Ryan originally bought it. I even found a website dedicated to helping parents find lovies. But so far nothing, unless I want to commission a Chinese manufacturer with an order of 600 Big Walters (can you imagine the look on Pete’s face if he walked into a room with 600 of his dogs!) Well, the search continues as Peter continues adoring his Big Walter.

Own a Vera Wang!

2008-10-15T11:33:00.010-06:00

I came across this while looking through the ad of a local furniture store:

Yes, you too can own a Vera Wang...a Vera Wang mattress! As a former fashion editor at Vogue, much-coveted bridal gown designer, and all-around amazing fashion designer, Vera Wang is at the top of the fashion world. And she has kindly and beautifully translated her design sensibilities into popular houseware collections, off-the-rack clothing lines, fragarances, shoes, etc. BUT MATTRESSES! Who cares if the stitching on the mattress is elegant? At best the ONLY person to see it will be you for the five minutes each week you change the sheets. I can only think of one reason to buy a Vera Wang mattress for the sake of it being a Vera Wang: all the "wang" jokes.

A Failed Pursuit of Perfection

2008-10-13T22:57:00.009-06:00

Is being a perfectionist a weakness? Well if it involves messing up a birthday cake for your best friend, then yes it is a weakness—a big, gooey ugly weakness.

I decided to make a cake for my friend Faith’s birthday last week. But this wasn’t going to be an ordinary Betty Crocker box cake—open, mix, bake, eat—I was going to bake a genuine “from scratch” cake. Faith has had to cut all dairy and egg products from her diet because of her son E.’s newly discovered food allergies. So I thought it might be nice treat for her to have a yummy cake sans eggs and dairy. Having no recipes for such a cake, I searched for one on the Internet and found what I thought was a winner: raisin spice cake with faux cream cheese frosting.

One evening I made stop at our local health foods store to pick up non-dairy margarine (I had never realized that margarine has dairy in it!) and non-dairy cream cheese (yes, such a thing exists). After expanding my culinary knowledge of alternative foods, I headed home with high hopes. Around 11 the next morning I started the cake by boiling the Crisco, water, raisins and combination of spices. I’m stirring the boiling mixture thinking how awesome I am. Woohoo, I’m baking and it smells good; go me! After 10 minutes of boiling I took the saucepan off the burner to let it cool pursuant to the recipe’s instructions. Now I mistakenly thought it would take 30 minutes for the raisin mixture to cool, so when I burned my finger checking it 45 minutes later I was more than a little ticked. Into the fridge went the saucepan. I thought this a very brilliant idea—not so much. Thirty minutes later I opened the fridge to find a nice hardened ½ inch layer of Crisco atop a sticky slosh of raisins. Crap. Back to square one. I reboiled the mixture and let it cool on its own for about an hour and a half. Next I mixed it with the dry ingredients and poured it into a greased 9x13 pan, I repeat a greased 9x13 pan, and then put it into the oven for 45 minutes.

Part of my disaster

Sometime later I frantically pulled the cake out of the oven because I had forgot to set the timer. I inexpertly judged the cake done and let it cool for a while then flipped it out of the greased pan onto a cooling rack. It seems that I own a selfish cake pan because it insisted on keeping chunks of the cake bottom. As the cake cooled I discovered a tiny spot of slightly uncooked cake in the middle. No problem. I sliced a two-inch strip from the middle giving me two 9x5 ½ sections of cake. I placed the two portions together on an upturned cookie sheet and covered them with the fake cream cheese frosting I made earlier. Done. I had what looked like a delicious cake (despite the slightly off color of the frosting). As a finishing touch, I sprinkled raisins over the top. Next I moved the cake, or rather portions of it, to an oval tray. Apparently my patch job with the frosting tricked me into picking the cake up like it was one solid piece, not two separate ones placed side by side. My result was four pieces of cake each having a jagged, crumbly edge. Hmmm…how about a layer cake. I stacked two layers before remembering I had already washed the bowl with remaining frosting thus leaving me no frosting to finish the sides of the cake. Frustrated and not thinking, I indelicately grabbed the top layer causing it to separate into two unequal portions. I tried scraping the remaining top layer off and instead mashed cake crumbs into the frosting covering the top of the bottom layer. Okay, Faith will only get half of the cake, I can use the other two pieces that I didn’t stack and just rework the frosting to cover the exposed edges. Great idea except for the raisins placed into the hardening frosting. Instead of spreading the thick frosting into thinner layers I created a mass of raisin-studded frosting on my knife. Fine, I give up. I cut the last of the four cake portions into two, and salvaged a slice of similar size from an earlier botched attempt and placed them on a plate like three brownies. It’s now 5 in the afternoon, and the only things I’ve accomplished are 1) decorating my kitchen counter with cake crumbles, squished raisins and sticky frosting; and 2) giving my friend a pathetic offering of three slices of cake.

I’m thinking of opening a vegan bakery in the near future. Anyone interested in fronting the costs?

Autism Spectrum Disorder

2008-10-10T13:23:00.010-06:00

On Tuesday Peter was diagnosed as having Austism Spectrum Disorder, meaning he has autism. Currently, the Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD) category includes:

1. Autistic disorder (“classic” autism);
2. Asperger’s Syndrome;
3. Pervasive Developmental Disorder Not Otherwise Specified (PDD-NOS) or atypical autism;

Because of his age (20 months) and relatively absent language skills, Peter has been given the umbrella diagnosis of Autism Spectrum Disorder. By the time he is 2 ½ or 3 years old, they will be able to accurately identify which of three disorders listed above he has. (For sake of clarity, the medical community calls all three ASDs autism, but the term autistic is reserved for those who have Autistic disorder—confusing isn’t it!)

At Peter’s six-month well-child exam I had some concerns that I discussed with his pediatrician. In fact, I flat out told him I thought Peter might have autism. He deftly assuaged my worry informing me that it really is not possible to diagnosis autism before 18 months of age. Also the fact that Peter was 5 weeks premature could just as easily account for his delays and behavior. However, he told me that my concerns were legitimate and we would need to keep an eye on Peter. Well, almost fourteen months later we finally have a diagnosis.

No parent wants to hear her child has a disorder, however, a diagnosis can provide direction, validation, and a modicum of relief. While I didn’t want Peter to have an Autism Spectrum Disorder, I did want to know what was going on and what Ryan and I could do to help him. We now have answers (and many new questions). Peter may still have Auditory Neuropathy or an Auditory Processing Disorder in addition to autism, but no matter what he has autism. (He is scheduled to undergo a brain-stem test in December to determine if he has Auditory Neuropathy.)

We are still trying to process what all this means and figure out where to go from here (we’re Amazon.com’s new favorite friend). We are trying to sift through the inordinate amount of information available. Unfortunately, opinion and anecdotal evidence, instead of science, seems to be in the majority. We’re confused, but we’re confused with a purpose. Thankfully all this means nothing to Peter right now. He only thinks we have been taking him to offices so he can play with nice people and different toys.

I want to thank everyone who has expressed their love and concern for Peter, Ryan and me in the past few months. It is reassuring to know how many people care about our little family and our adorable little guy. I know that it is sometimes hard to know what to say and that there is always the worry of saying the wrong thing, but I want to assure you that just saying something and acknowledging our situation has given us comfort. Those who have given support in simple ways have made a huge impact. Thank you.

Welcome to my awesomeness

2008-10-08T21:48:00.007-06:00

It is time to rejoice—Kristin has a blog! Now everyone can experience my fascinating life, charming personality, witty monologues and clever thinking. Or you can enjoy my nonsensical musings and lackluster doings.