The Hilarious Happenings of the Worton Household

A Decade

2011-04-06T10:30:00.000-07:00

Ten years ago today I woke up at 4am after a few hours of sleep and started getting ready for my wedding. My sister woke up and did my hair (beautifully), and I slowly did my makeup. I drove to the temple in Bellevue with my parents and sang the Primary song "I Love To See The Temple" at the top of my lungs.

Today, a decade later, I woke up at 4am after a few hours of sleep and started getting ready for work. I nursed Rosie after taking a shower, quickly did my makeup and brushed by teeth while I dried my hair. There is no wedding to look forward to, but today I am infinitely happier then I was on April 6, 2001.

A decade has brought about much change for Tom and me. Trips across the world, two apartments, one house, too many horribly painful goodbyes, countless wonderful friends, three children, one life-changing diagnosis, but most of all it has brought us closer then ever. I'd be lying if I said the last ten years were all smiles and rainbows. The last few years in particular have been especially hard, but there came a point when we both, individually, decided that our trials would make us stronger, not tear us apart. That being said, a decade has also brought us so much joy. For our anniversary today, I wanted to share with all who read this what a wonderful man Tom is.

Tom is the most giving, selfless person you will ever meet. Most people have no idea how hard he works and all that he does for his family, his church, his friends - because he is also humble. He is not one to brag about his accomplishments, his goodwill or charity, he simply does what needs to be done because he wants to help, and he expects nothing in return. Since the day Rosie was born, Tom has gotten up and done breakfast for Harper and Nora nearly every single morning. On the days that I work he manages to lovingly get three little girls ready for the day and get himself showered and dressed by 9am. I tell you, that is far better then I can do!! Tom cares genuinely and deeply for the people he serves in our church. As Elder's Quorum President he spent many sleepless nights worrying and praying for families in need. He did this alone, as he is also extremely respectful of other's privacy, and never once spoke to me about any of the hardships he was dealing with. As Young Men's President he is passionately dedicated to teaching the teenage boys in our ward how to be men. I have no doubt in my mind that those young men will be better missionaries, employees, and husbands because of Tom's example.

Tom is STUBBORN. Not quite as stubborn as I am, but very close! When he was in elementary school he started wrestling, and his coach pretty much told him he was no good and wouldn't go anywhere with it. I don't know if the coach was simply a jackass, or if he knew Tom really well, because all that did was push him. In high school he helped his team go undefeated, wrestled in the state championships twice, and his senior year he placed first in his weight class at state. Tell Tom he can't do something and not only will he do it, he will do it better then anyone else has ever done it before.

Tom is a wonderful cook, and I like to joke that he is more of a housewife then I am. Every Saturday morning he comes up with a new breakfast menu (peanut butter stuffed French toast, Belgian waffles made from scratch, homemade cinnamon syrup, etc.), and he usually makes it while watching all three kids and letting me sleep in. For the last three summers he has canned peaches, pears, green beans, tomatoes, homemade spaghetti sauce, pizza sauce, and chili starter, homemade jams and freezers jams of all varieties (strawberry freezer is my favorite), 5 different kinds of salsa, homemade tomato soup, apple juice, grape juice, apple pie filling, zuchini relish, applesauce, apple butter, apple chutney, and even more that I can't think of off the top of my head. And, since for the last three summers I have either been pregnant or up all night taking care of a screaming baby, Tom has done 90% of this by himself. Granted our kitchen has also been a giant disaster of apple goo and boxes of cans....but have you TASTED his jalapeno jelly??

Tom is fearless. I am seriously in awe of this at times. Not only would he do anything physically (jump out of a plane, bungee jump, etc.), but he also has no fear when it comes to people. He could walk up to anybody and say anything! Thankfully he also has a lot of self control and he very rarely says anything rude or obnoxious (which I am also in awe of). The funny part is that even when he IS rude, he does it with a smile and totally gets away with it. It's hilarious.

Tom isn't perfect, but he is perfect for me. He's taught me to be patient and to finish what I start. He helps me calm down when I freak out over what I later realize is nothing. He pushes me to go out and be social when I just want to sit at home and veg, which has helped me foster many cherished friendships that I likely wouldn't have had. He helps me keep things in perspective until I realize that no matter what happens, everything will be OK because I still have him.

I love you so much, Tom. Happy anniversary!

Colonoscopies

2011-02-08T08:22:00.000-08:00

Yesterday Harper and Nora both had colonoscopies - a routine (albeit uncomfortable) procedure for most adults, but a very serious and potentially dangerous procedure for two little toddlers. Thankfully Nora is much bigger then she was at her last one (I realized yesterday that she was smaller then Rosie, a 4 month old baby), so it wasn't as traumatic for her this time. As for adults, the prep is the worst part for the kiddos. With Harper it was easy to explain to her that the doctor needs to look inside her tummy, so it needs to be empty. She wasn't exactly happy about not eating for 24 hours, but she understood. Nora, on the other hand, was a nightmare. The girl eats non-stop on any normal day, and has figured out how to open the door to the pantry, so trying to keep food away from her was a challenge - a very sad challenge. She definitely did not understand why we were starving her.

The morning of the appointment the girls also had to stop drinking (except for another dose of the magnesium citrate, which I literally had to force down Nora's throat). Tom took Rosie to Melani's house while I tried to hold down the fort with two hungry, tired, grumpy little girls. To top it off I had to give them both an enema. Have you ever given an enema to a toddler? I won't even mention how many I've done. There is a lot of screaming, crying, holding down, promising prizes, and a LOT of poop. The whole ordeal is quite disturbing.

Once we got to the hospital Harper decided to stop being so understanding - she was very thirsty and begging for a drink. Thankfully we were at a children's hospital, so they had a TV, DVD player and Toy Story on hand. Harper was quite content, so we got Nora prepped with her IV and I took her into the procedure room. For the third time in her very short life I held her while she was put to sleep. An hour later Dr. Pickens came out with her results. The wonderful news was that her small intestine looked great! Last year it was so inflamed there were patches of celia completely missing from her small intestine, and her stomach was so sensitive that it starting bleeding when the scope bumped the side. Today it looks completely normal, so we are very happy about that. Her large intestine, on the other hand, looks yucky. Last year it was inflamed, but not to the naked eye - we had to go off of biopsy results. Today there are large patches of open ulcers, and the left side was a very pale pink, almost white color.

Now it was Harper's turn, and she was very upset that she was going to be asleep while they looked in her tummy - she wanted to see it, too! So we promised her pictures and Tom took her into the procedure room while I stayed with Nora. It took Nora a while to wake up all the way, but once she did she was thrilled to get a drink of apple juice and some fishy crackers. Dr. Pickens came back with Harper's results after about an hour, and there was no good news. Last year Harper's small intestine wasn't even affected, and today it is very inflamed with several large ulcers, particularly around the bottom of the stomach where it opens to the small intestine. Last year her large intestine was covered in ulcers, and today it is the same. The ulcers in her large intestine look very different then the ones in her small intestine - they are very small and white in color. Dr. Pickens described them as "pin prick ulcers", and he's quite confused about them. They don't look like "typical" Crohns' ulcers (like her small intestine ulcers, and Nora's large intestine ulcers), but I think we can agree that nothing about these girls is "typical". Along with the regular blood work (blood counts, liver functions, iron levels, vitamin D levels, etc.), Harper also had some blood drawn for a Nod2/Card 15 mutation test. This is a genetic test that will look at the specific gene that is associated with Crohn's to see if it is mutated. If it is, Tom and I will do some genetic testing that will help determine Rosie's chances of also having Crohn's. We will hear back on this test in a few weeks, and both girls' biopsies and other blood work on Wednesday.

Wednesday will also be the day that we start their methotrexate. This is a once weekly injection that I will do here at home that will hopefully do double duty and work on their Crohn's and their arthritis. It takes about 6-8 weeks to really take affect, so for the next few months they'll be continuing their regular medications in addition to the methotrexate, but our hope is to eventually be on just the injections. Not really looking forward to giving shots to the girls, but when I explained to Harper that it would help her legs feel better she was very excited. She asked if she would be able to do gymnastics without her legs hurting, and it broke my heart. I really hope these girls get some relief soon.

Thank you all for your thoughts, prayers, concern and love for my girls. We so appreciate our wonderful friends and family!

Any Given Day

2011-01-24T18:27:00.001-08:00

Sunday morning started out like any day - fighting to get Harper to put her clothes on, Nora to get garbage out of her mouth, all while trying to nurse Rosie and keep Scout from eating the girls' breakfast. After church we headed up to Tom's parents house for a birthday party and Harper began to complain of a headache. I told her to close her eyes and try to take a nap, but within minutes she was puking all over herself, her seat, and Tom's seat in front of her. It went on for a good five minutes, and after getting her bathed and cleaned up in Grandma and Grandpa's tub, she promptly began puking all over her clean PJ's and hair. For the next 2.5 hours she puked like clock work every 20 minutes until around 7:30pm she started having bloody diarrhea.

We were warned when the girls were diagnosed that a stomach flu in these girls could very quickly turn very dangerous - I realized we were at that point and paged her doctor. An hour later we were checking in to Mary Bridge emergency room. Harper was pale as a ghost and couldn't even sit herself up. She was continuing to convulse and puke up white foam on a regular basis, and was even more upset at the thought of a "poke" (IV). I quickly promised her a unicorn pillow pet, something she has asked for every time we step foot inside Fred Meyer. It cheered her up a bit, but needles are far from her favorite thing. Thankfully these guys really know what they're doing and the IV was in before she even knew it. Her tears quickly turned to surprised interest in "all the blood" coming out of her, and an hour later after a dose of zofran (anti-nausea) and a bag of IV fluids, she was laughing at Enchanted. Tom slipped away to feed the animals and made a stop at Fred Meyer and came back with the magical unicorn - needless to say Harper was EXTREMELY excited. "Daddy, it's what I ALWAYS, ALWAYS WANTED," repeated approximately 30 times in the next 2 minutes.

Harper's blood work showed a high white blood cell count, but normal inflammatory markers. Thankfully it was just a stomach flu and for now it looks like it didn't affect her Crohn's. It was a very scary reminder of how quickly things can get bad for these girls. On any given day, no matter how good they feel when they wake up, we could be rushing them to the ER by the afternoon. This summer we will be walking in the Seattle "Take Steps for Crohn's and Colitis" fundraising walk - please consider walking with us or donating to our team. I want a cure for my girls.

Looking Forward

2011-01-07T17:23:00.000-08:00

I'm a little late in blogging about the new year, but better late then never I guess. And since part of my New Year's resolution is to just do my best and not feel guilty about the rest, I'm just fine with being a week late.

2010 was such a roller coaster of a year. January started with Harper being the second one in our little family to be diagnosed with Crohn's and I can't believe it's already been a year. Both her and Nora have their up's and down's, but another resolution this year is to get these girls feeling GREAT. We will be making lots of big decisions in the near future about their care and treatment plans.

Also a year ago this month I came home from Costa Rica and found out I was pregnant with Rosie. I'm pretty sure I've never been so terrified in my life. I already had two very sick little girls, and the guilt about bringing another one into a world of pain was killing me. The pregnancy was really hard also, probably some of the toughest months of my life. But as soon as I held this little girl I knew with all my heart that she came right when and where she was supposed to.

Harder then my own struggles this year was watching my friends and family go through theirs. 2010 was tough, but let me tell you, these guys are TOUGHER! Two women in particular have inspired and taught me so much this year about so many things. I don't think I could ever go through what either of them have been through this year, yet through it all they are two of the sweetest and most caring and giving women I have ever known. C & M, you amaze me.

2010 taught me that MOMS ROCK!! In addition to the two awesome moms mentioned above, my mom has been quite literally a lifesaver for me. This woman works full time, is married to a bishop, has her own calling in her ward, volunteers at the temple (as shift coordinator no less), and has still driven 30 miles back and forth to my house at least once every single week since Rosie was born to help with the girls, the housework, dinner, and anything/everything else. She has listened to me cry and vent about everything (and nothing), and has come with me and helped keep me sane at the girls' doctors appointments. I don't know how I will ever repay her - except to be the best mom that I possibly can. So in 2011, THIS mom is gonna rock, too!

This year I will celebrate my 30th birthday - unlike some people, I am actually happy about this. No telling if I will still feel that way in a month when it's actually staring me in the face, but for now I am looking forward to it. And for sure I am looking forward to my 10 year anniversary in April! Rosie thwarted our big trip plans, but we forgive her :) We'll postpone to later in the year after her birthday. 2011 will also bring my little sister her first baby - and another niece or nephew for me!

So no pressure 2011, but I have high expectations...here's hoping you live up to them.

Update

2010-12-12T14:16:00.000-08:00

Part of me wants to delete the last post, but I know I shouldn't. We all have moments of weakness, and if nothing else I hope this blog is at least real.

The girls saw the rheumatologist again on Friday and there was good news and bad news. Mostly bad news. The good news is that sarcoidosis is off the table - it's just Crohn's. The bad news is that both Harper and Nora have arthritis and it's getting progressively worse. We will start them on maloxicam this week (anti-inflammatory) and see how things go. They both see the rheumatologist again in a month, and if things haven't gotten significantly better they will need to do a dose of prednisone and start on methotrexate. The good thing about methotrexate is that in addition to treating arthritis, it is also used for Crohn's and colitis. The bad things are that it is a weekly injection that I have to do (Harper is terrified of needles), and it's chemo. Yeah, I realize it is a tiny, minuscule fraction of the dose that they would use for cancer, but it's still chemo. But if it will do double duty and take the tummy and joint pain away from both of my girls, I will love it. As made obvious in my last post, I am tired of them constantly being in pain.

As for the Crohn's part of the Crohn's (as opposed to the arthritis part of the Crohn's), the girls' GI doc spoke with their rheumatologist on Friday and he will get back to me this week about where we go from here. We had previously decided to re-scope both girls at their one year mark, and that has come for both of them. With the disease obviously progressing, I'm sure we will have to go ahead with that plan.

The great news is that both girls' CBC is still normal - neither have been anemic for a few months now! Yay!

Selfishness

2010-12-07T20:23:00.001-08:00

This post is going to seem really selfish. I'm just warning you in advance. Sometimes you just have to get it off your chest and then move on.

First off, no matter what I have to deal with while taking care of my two kids with Crohn's, it's no where near as bad as having Crohn's. I get that. But can I just say that I am so tired of it? There are lots of things I'm really grateful for - good doctors, decent insurance, medicine that (sometimes) takes my babies' pain away, etc. But today I'm going to vent about the crap because it's building up and I gotta dump it somewhere.

It's been a little over a year since Nora was diagnosed and in that time I have racked up thousands upon thousands of dollars in medical bills. Pediatric colonoscopies are really expensive. Even if Nora let me sleep through the night I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be able to as I'd be too busy thinking of all the money that is going to the damn anaesthesiologist instead of a down payment for a house that will actually fit all my kids. I am tired of getting sent to collections for bills that I've already paid, I'm tired of spending my free time hauling my kids to the hospital for blood draws instead of taking them to the park. I'm tired of being so tired that I actually considered buying Depends so I don't have to get up to go to the bathroom. But most of all, I'm tired of watching my kids go through the crap they have to go to. I'm tired of hearing them scream in pain and I'm tired of not being able to do anything about it.

Ok, thanks for letting me vent - back to being a mom.

Magical Uterus and a Crohn's Update.

2010-11-03T16:25:00.001-07:00

As I mentioned in my "Sisters" post in May, I am one of three sisters, the oldest born Oct. 3, the next (me) born Feb. 13, and the youngest born Sept. 26. My oldest daughter was born Sept. 26, my next born Feb. 13, and just 4 weeks ago my youngest little girl was born on my oldest sister's birthday, Oct. 3. To be honest I really didn't think it would happen - it's just too crazy! But apparently I have a magical uterus.

In late July at 30 weeks pregnant I went into early labor. I started dilating and I was on medication to stop the contractions. By 36 weeks I had made 3 trips to the hospital, gotten 3 shots of tributiline and had dilated to 5cm and it was only the beginning of September. There was just no way I was going to make it 4 more weeks! But somehow, miraculously (and thankfully), I made it to just one day before my due date and Rosalynd Eliza was born healthy and happy. Granted the 10 weeks of labor and bed rest were anything but fun, but it was so worth it for her to stay in there and grow as much as she could.

Harper and Nora absolutely adore their little sister and it is the best thing in the world to see them kiss and cuddle her. They are both very fascinated with me nursing Rosie and Harper keeps asking me if there are hands and spoons inside

me that make the milk.

And speaking of Harper and Nora, they are doing pretty well. Their GI is still having doubts about the Crohn's diagnosis and had them see a rheumatologist at Children's to test for Blau Syndrome (familial sarcoidosis). So far it doesn't look like that's what they have, although the doc did confirm that Harper has arthritis in her knees and ankles (which does happen with Crohn's). She will be starting on a non-steroidal anti-inflammatory in addition to the anti-inflammatory that she takes for her GI tract. Nora has also started complaining about pain in her knees so we'll see what happens with that. The really great news is that both girls are no longer anemic, both inflammatory markers are normal and both are gaining weight (though Nora STILL isn't on the growth chart). They follow up with the rheumatologist and GI next month, and they see an opthamologist (you can get granulomas in your eyes with sarcoidosis) in a few weeks. Over all I think things look pretty good. We are just hoping and praying that Rosie won't have to go through what these girls have. Even if she does end up having Crohn's, hopefully we will catch it quickly knowing what we now know. She was extremely fussy for about a week and her pediatrician prescribed her some meds for acid reflux - I had a horrible flashback to Nora's one month check up when the doc prescribed the same stuff (and was having the same symptoms), but Rosie is eating fine and gaining weight - both things Nora did NOT do. I just have to keep reminding myself that every time she cries it doesn't necessarily mean she has Crohn's....she also gets poopy diapers and other normal baby stuff. I'm just massively paranoid.

Things You Forget

2010-06-01T15:19:00.001-07:00

For some reason that I can only imagine has something to do with sustaining our human race, you forget about how much pregnancy really sucks. Yes you remember getting huge, you remember a vague sense of uncomfortableness, some sleepless nights, etc., but you do NOT remember the specifics, all of the many, many little "joys" of pre-natal-hood.

For example, how to put on shoes. For many, a simple task. For those past their 5th month (especially on the 3rd pregnancy), not so much. This morning I went to put my shoes on and I apparently grew quite significantly overnight because it was rather difficult. I had to sit there for a minute and try to remember how I did it (only 15 months ago, mind you) with my other pregnancies. I suppose that is the one good thing about being preggers during the summer - flip flops are easy to put on no matter how enormous I get. Not that the weather has been anywhere near dry or warm enough for flip flops here in the Seattle area, but I'm assuming that at some point during the next 4 months it will be. Anyway, you kind of have to bend your legs like you're sitting cross-legged and shove your shoes on that way. I also recall making Tom zip up my boots when I was pregnant with Nora - although how I actually got them on in order for him to zip them is another matter, and one that I have completely blocked out.

There are also the Braxton Hicks contractions. Apparently these suckers start earlier and earlier with each pregnancy because I've been going strong with these bad boys since week 13. Yes I remember having them with Harper and Nora, but I do not remember them being so freaking uncomfortable. I feel like I need to have a little sit-down with my uterus: "Excuse me - I appreciate the fact that you are carrying my baby and that you are preparing for an intense day of labor some 4 odd months down the road, but really - I have better things to do then practice labor. Also, you've done this twice before, you know the routine. Give me a break."

The arm fat. I ask you, is it really necessary to gain 5lbs in each arm to deliver a baby?? At least when I was pregnant with Nora I could hide them under long-sleeved shirts and sweaters since it was winter, but unless I want to drown in my own sweat and/or die of heat stroke, that isn't going to happen this summer. I will have to show off the lovely arm jiggle every time I try to wave my kids over, or fix my hair, or you know...move...at all.

The stronger-than-any-other-force-known-to-man-cravings. It's certainly not something I am proud to admit, but when I was pregnant with Harper I couldn't drive by a McDonald's without getting a quarter pounder with cheese, and I had the thighs to prove it. This time I think I'm doing slightly better since I'm craving more fruit and veggies, but holy crap, I feel like I will actually die if I don't eat it right now. I was craving a good taco salad at work one day, but the closest good one is over in Westlake and I had a ton of work to do. I knew it wasn't going to be possible to get away and I actually started crying right there in my office. Then I felt like such an idiot for crying about food that I started crying even harder.

Which brings me to my next point - the completely out of control emotions. Not only have I cried about taco salad, but there was also the dead squirrel at the train station, the time I couldn't put my regular pants on, the House season finale (and, ok, every other House episode). And of course the things that would make a normal non-hormonal person emotional that pretty much turned me into a total lunatic - the death of a friend's husband, my sister's wedding, my friends' sick baby boy, my own daughters' fight with Crohn's. Really it just seems like crying is the response to pretty much anything. Sad? Cry. Happy? Cry. Angry? Cry while punching pillow.

And lastly, because I am being reminded this very second as I type, the weird positions the baby gets into while in utero. I'm remembering that Nora used to like one side more then the other, and it seems as though this baby is also starting that trend. Right now she is squeezed into my right side, so there is a huge, hard lump sticking out on the right side of my tummy, and just mush on the left side. It looks as insane as it sounds, and it is not comfortable in the least, but it is kind of funny to imagine the baby trying to get comfortable. "If I just curl my legs up like this....and then put my head over here....yeah...that's good...that'll do for the next month or so."

I'm sure I will be reminded of many more wonders as the months progress!

Sisters

2010-05-13T20:41:00.000-07:00

I have two sisters, one 19 months younger then me, and one 4.5 years older then me. Growing up, 4.5 years was a pretty big age difference, but we still played together quite a bit. Granted it was mostly a slave game that Heather made up to get Erica and I to clean her room and bring her food (she sat in bed, speaking into a hollow toy tree to make her voice echo, calling us J8 and E6, our first initials and our age), but I think we still all had fun. And you have to admit, Heather was pretty creative.

Some of my most fun memories are of a summer that Heather and Ammon (at the time her boyfriend, now her husband) came home and lived with us while on break from BYU. We had a Super Nintendo that our dad had hidden because it had caused too many fights, but we easily found it and snuck it out every night to play it together. We had devised a complicated plan of action in case we heard anyone coming. Everyone had a job. Heather: grab all the controllers and run them to the console, hand console off to Erica. Erica: run console to the bedroom off the family and hand it off to Jennette. Jennette: hide console in cupboard in bedroom. Ammon: scream.

One night that summer we dressed in jammer-jams (button down PJ's), Ammon's complete with a necktie, and went to the drive-in theater. I have pictures of this night somewhere in my huge bin of old pictures, and someday I will find them and post them. This night is one of my favorite nights of my life, and probably the hardest I've ever laughed. I honestly don't even remember what was so funny (beyond Ammon's necktie), although I do know someone sprayed orange juice out of their nose and all over my mom's van. Someone tried to get out of cleaning it up, but E15 and J17 were not having it.

Now that we are all adults we still have wonderful times together. The three of us got to spend a week together in Costa Rica this past January, a week I will always treasure. Erica and I are so much alike in so many ways, it is almost creepy. So many times we say the same obscure thing at the same time with the same inflection and then laugh the same exact laugh. Heather is so caring and so protective of her little sisters. Kind of hard to believe now, but Tom and I actually had a hard time conceiving before we had Harper. I remember taking negative pregnancy test after negative pregnancy test, it was so depressing. One early Saturday morning I thought for sure I would see a little pink plus sign, but it wasn't so, and I called Heather crying. She cried with me, then told me to go hug my husband, the best advice I could get. I feel so connected to both my sisters, sometimes I sit at home and I swear I know what they are feeling.

Today I found out I am having my third little girl. Harper, born on Erica's birthday, Nora, born on my birthday, and our new baby, due on Heather's birthday. After having Nora I had a hard time dealing with the fact that I would never be able to give 100% of my time to each child now that I had more then one, but someone reminded me that I was giving them a gift they could never have on their own - a sister. So thank you mom, for giving me my two wonderful sisters (and, of course, my brother, whom I love equally but who isn't included in this post - but will be on my next pregnancy when I find out I'm having a boy due on his bday), and thank you to my sisters for being you.

Crappy Mother's Day To You, Too

2010-05-10T12:23:00.000-07:00

It seems my Mother's Days are destined to be filled with crap. Not the metaphorical crap, as in "I had a crappy day," kind of way, but the literal, "There is crap all over me and my house and I have to clean it up and possibly go puke" kind of way.

Last year there was the Harper diarrhea, the dog eating the diarrhea diapers and spreading them throughout the house, then the dog throwing up the diarrhea diapers, again spreading it throughout the house (AFTER I had cleaned, sanitized and, when possible, bleached everything in my house). It seemed like there was a lot of poo the first time around when it actually came out of Harper, but it exponentially multiplied by the third time around.

This year, the day before Mother's Day, I cleaned up every type of bodily fluid imaginable. Over, and over, and over again. And each time I naively thought to myself (and once even said out loud, to no on in particular), "This HAS to be the last time for today...."

It started out as a really great day. Friday night Harper had her first sleepover at her cuzzies' house, so Nora and I had a leisurely morning, a yummy breakfast, and a fun Target shopping trip. When I went to my brother's to pick up Harper, Nora immediately went for what my mother calls the "Bubble Car." It's one of those plastic cars with the big bubbly looking top that you use your feet to make go, Fred Flinstone style. It was impossible to get her out of that thing, so when she had a dirty diaper I had to drag her out and forcefully hold her down while I took it off and wiped. In the 4 seconds it took me to let go of her and reach into my diaper bag for a clean diaper, she was back in the bubble car, sans diaper. I walked over, picked her up, laid her on the floor to put her new diaper on, and wondered what all that brown stuff all over the carpet was. It kind of looked like poop. Oh. It was poop. Nora has pooped in the bubble car, walked in it, got it all over me, and all over the carpet. I felt terrible, but of course Heather was a sweetheart and ran over to help me clean up.

After everything was clean I decided it was probably time to go, so I packed everyone up and headed over to my parents for an uneventful (read: no poop) afternoon, then headed home for dinner. This is when the real fun started. Harper fell asleep on the way home, and when we got home and I picked her up out of her car seat she peed all over me (still asleep). She's been in panties for over a month, but I guess the urge was too strong while she was sleeping. It woke her up, or maybe my screaming did, I got her in the house, washed up and clean, dry clothes on.

About 20 minutes after we got home I heard this weird noise coming from the hallway, so I went to investigate. For those of you who don't know our dog Scout, he is a little different. We love him, but high maintenance and high energy doesn't even begin to describe this dog. Like most Viszlas he has a touchy stomach, so Tom taught him to puke in the toilet when he was only a few months old. He does it on a regular basis, but he does not know how to lift the lid, and since I have been keeping the lid closed so Nora doesn't drown herself (yes, she would), or put any more of Harper's Barbies or clothes down the toilet (yes, she has), he has puked on the bathroom floor next to the toilet a few times. Not a big deal, but he is a big dog so it takes quite a few towels to clean it.

But I digress. I'm in the hall investigating the noise when I see Scout come out of the bathroom and puke on the carpet in the hall. The noise was him retching the first time on the bathroom floor. The smell is so overwhelming I run back into the living room to avoid puking on his puke, but I know it will be impossible to keep Nora away from it for more then 30 seconds, and the smell is starting to make its way throughout the rest of our house, so I take a few deep breaths, a drawer-full of towels, and head back into the hall. As soon as I get there I change my mind again and run back into the living room. Seriously, it is bad. Nora is fighting me like crazy trying to get back there, so I find some Febreeze and start spraying like mad and holding my breath while I head back again (Nora on my heels). When I get down on my knees to start the cleaning process, I realize he has thrown up POOP. Yes, you read that right. It's poop puke. He had just played outside for a while before I brought the girls in from the car, so I'm assuming it's some random dog's poop that he found, ate, then ate what looked to be about 2 lbs of grass to get it back up. Apparently the poop alone wasn't enough to make him puke.

I am really trying hard not to puke, but I am pregnant and quite sensitive to smells, so by the time I got to the portion of the puke on the carpet, I threw up on the throw up, which then made me throw up some more. So now I am sitting in my hallway, crying, surrounded by puke and trying to keep Nora away with my foot, and I hear in the living room, "Mommy, I peed." So I tell her to not move, get the poop puke cleaned up, then head out to get Harper cleaned up for the second time in the last hour.

About a half hour later we are eating dinner and I think to myself "Only an hour and a half until the girls go to bed, at least I won't be cleaning up anymore poop, pee or puke," when Harper gets a somewhat shocked look on her face and says, "Mommy, I peed." Again. At least this time Nora is strapped into her booster seat so I'm not trying to keep her away from a pile of puke or a puddle of pee, so I run Harper to the shower, rinse her off again, think there is NO WAY she will pee again in the next hour so I put her in another pair of panties, PJ's, and back to finish dinner. We read stories before bed and head into the bathroom to brush teeth. Harper likes to stand on the toilet seat and lean over the counter, and while standing on the toilet, she peed her pants again. Couldn't she have at least just lifted up the seat???

After the girls were both clean, dry and in bed I decided to organize my closet, so Tom came home to his wife sitting in the closet, surrounded by a huge pile of shopping bags (I save them for a few months then purge), shoes and sweaters everywhere, crying and trying not to think of the poop puke lest I throw up again.

Being a mom is so hard. Not just because you have to constantly clean up every type of bodily fluid imaginable, although that does really suck. It is mentally and physically exhausting and there is never any down time. Even if the kids are asleep or at preschool, you are always "on-call", poised and ready to do whatever is necessary to take care of your children. And yes, I would do anything.

The next day at church, Harper ran up to sing Mother's Day songs with the other Primary children, and louder then any of the other kids I could hear Harper, looking right at me, sing (yell) "MOTHER, I LUB YOU! MOTHER, I DO!", while I'm holding Nora who is laughing, pointing at her sister and waving. I'd clean up poop puke again a million times over, just for that moment.

Updates and News

2010-03-05T12:47:00.000-08:00

Nora - continuing to do great and up to 17lbs. She is a wonderful eater, eating (or at least trying) pretty much anything we give her. Hopefully someday she will be able to sit in a forward facing car seat, haha. She had her first birthday on Feb. 13th, we went to the Children's Museum in Factoria and she absolutely loved it. She is a little copy cat, watching other kids to see what they do, then copying as best she can. She says a few words, mostly "kitty" and "dog", but she also just started saying "all done".

Harper - her colonoscopy in January showed ulcers and inflammation throughout her colon, but so far it doesn't look like it's affecting her small intestine. In other circumstances they would have diagnosed her with colitis, but because of Nora's diagnosis they compared the two girls' tissue slides and the inflammation is almost identical. Both girls now have a diagnosis of Crohn's, although it is so rare and shocking that their doctor (and the doc down in San Francisco) is still somewhat questioning it. But all other blood work and tests seem to point in the same direction. Harper hasn't responded as well to the medication, but I've seen some improvement just this last week, so I'm hopeful.

Last month I got a much needed break and spent a week in Costa Rica with my two sisters. It was beautiful and relaxing and so much fun! The day after I got home I got the shock of my life when I found out I was pregnant! I was shocked and terrified and worried all at the same time. It took a few days, but soon I couldn't help but be excited.

I've had a couple ultra sounds and all looks well. I'm about 10 weeks along and due Oct. 4th - although if I continue with my current pattern, he/she will be born on my sister's birthday, Oct. 3rd. Because I thought I was a little farther along then what I'm actually measuring, it seems like it's going by super slow, which really sucks. The "morning" sickness is really getting old, but I'm hoping it will end at 14 weeks like it did with the last two. I had been working out a lot before I got pregnant, so I've been trying to keep it up (in between the puke), but last night as I was doing sit ups I could feel where my ab muscles are separating (to let my uterus expand) and it was really sick. I got really freaked out and had to stop, haha. Which is weird because it hasn't bothered me with the last two pregnancies, in fact I used to trick Tom into feeling it to freak him out, hahaha.

It's early yet, but I'm predicting it's a boy. With my other two I craved meat, especially cheeseburgers. With Harper I couldn't drive by a McDonald's without getting a quarter pounder and with Nora I was really lucky to be in CA twice and get several In N Out's. With both of them I thought it was a boy because I figured I was eating like a boy. With this one the very thought of a burger literally makes me gag* (except for In N Out, which I will always love no matter what). In fact, any kind of meat makes me sick, I just want veggies. So since I'm eating like a girl, I guess that means it's a boy? Nine more weeks to know for sure.

And along with my exciting news my sister has some of her own. She is getting married! We had planned on going down in May for her grad school graduation, so instead we are now going down for a wedding. She is so happy and in love, I'm ecstatic for her. The best part is that his name is Eric - Eric & Erica, hahaha.

*Seriously, just typing this paragraph was a huge risk. There was lots of dry heaving involved.

2010-01-04T12:44:00.000-08:00

Well it seems I am only updating on Crohn's disease as of late, and unfortunately this post isn't gonna be any different.

Good News:
Nora is doing great!! She has gained 2 lbs and now weighs over 15lbs. Still not on the charts, but getting closer. She has started walking a tiny bit, taking a few steps here and there and seems to love her new skill. Dr. Heiman down in San Francisco confirmed the Crohn's diagnosis, and we learned last month that Nora is the only baby in Washington with the disease. There is one other in CA (the other one that Dr. Pickens helped diagnose), but that's all that we know of on the west coast. I wasn't kidding when I said it was rare.

Not So Good News:
Harper went in for her preliminary blood work and it looks worse then Nora's did. She is anemic and her inflammatory markers are very high. She goes in on Wednesday for a colonoscopy and endoscopy - I know it seems a little extreme to do just based on some iffy blood work, but after what we went through with Nora we aren't messing around. If Harper has Crohn's we need to know now so we can start on treatment right away.

I was able to connect with a woman who used to be in the Orting ward who has a young son (13 now, 7 at diagnosis) with Crohn's, and it was so great to talk to her. She was reassuring, encouraging, non-judgmental (yes, I have been judged for putting my daughter on steroids - people are stupid), and all around awesome. She has always been someone I've looked up to and it was so great to reconnect with her and get some advice.

I promise I will get a non-Crohn's post in here soon. Christmas pics and more are forthcoming.

The Latest

2009-12-09T09:49:00.000-08:00

Here is the latest news on Nora:

Three weeks ago Nora started on predisone to calm her immune system and get the inflammation under control. She promptly got a bad cold which she couldn't fight off and became very sick. It was a really rough week for her. Her antibody test came back indeterminate, which definitely doesn't mean she doesn't have Crohn's (anywhere from only 40% to max 70% of IBD patients have the specific antibody pattern), but the doc wanted to run some additional tests just to be sure we weren't dealing with another autoimmune disorder that was affecting her GI tract (all tests were negative). Dr. Pickens also sent her biopsy tissue down to Dr. Heimen in San Francisco who will look over them with his pathologist to make sure nothing got missed. I would also like to mention that they are doing this for FREE. We have wonderful doctors.

Anyway, the week was filled with lots of blood tests, doctor check up's, and stool tests (I am a pro at collecting poop now...if there was a degree in it I'd totally have it - Jennette Worton, Doctor of Poop Shovelling). She lost weight and was all around miserable....however, her blood work was PERFECT!! No anemia, white blood cell count was normal, and all her inflammatory markers were ZERO. The prednisone had done its job splendidly, so we took her off it immediately, and a few days later she got much better (and popped 3 teeth out).

She has now started on sulfasalazine, a topical anti-inflammatory drug that has no immunosupressant effects, which is good and bad. Good that she will be able to somewhat fight off bugs that come her way, but bad in the sense that the drug technically isn't helping the underlying issue of the disease, just helping the symptoms. However, since we don't know a lot about the progression or severity of her disease yet, I think no immunosupressants is a good thing, especially with how well she is doing this week. She is so bubbly and happy, laughing all the time, giving high 5's, saying new words, playing with her sis, chasing the cats. After lots of help from Grandma Lee on Saturday night she is also now taking a bottle, and since yesterday she has even started taking her special formula - yay!! She is definitely on the mend and I couldn't be happier.

Once again, THANK YOU to everyone for all your help, your thoughts, prayers, and encouragement.

A Diagnosis

2009-11-21T19:12:00.000-08:00

For those of you who already got this email, sorry for the repeat:

This week Nora was diagnosed with Crohn's disease, an autoimmune disease that affects the gastrointestinal tract. It is extremely rare in infants and we owe a lot to our wonderful pediatric GI, Dr. Pickens for being stubborn enough to figure out what was going on with our poor little baby. Yesterday Tom and I met with Dr. Pickens and a nutritionist to talk about treatment options, which unfortunately are limited with Nora being so small and so young. It is very different then treating an adult patient or even an older child. Some doctors (Nora's included) believe that Crohn's starting in infancy is actually a separate pathogenic subgroup of the disease, one that unfortunately is still a big mystery in many ways. But the good thing is that research is being done and doctors are finding out more and more each year.

According to Nora's tests (endoscopy, upper GI and colonoscopy), the disease is, at this point, affecting her esophagus, duodenum and ileum (in the small intestine), and in every part of her colon that they took biopsies in. It is extremely painful for her, and it is making her anemic and deficient in various vitamins and minerals and stunting her growth due to the villi in her small intestine being unable to do its job (absorb nutrients) because of the inflammation. However, even among the painful disease and procedures and tests over the last 6 weeks Nora has for the most part stayed a cheerful, smiley, happy baby. She is a fighter in every sense of the word.

This week Nora started on prednisone, a steroid that will suppress her immune system and calm the inflammation. Because of the severe side effects of steroids Nora can only be on it for 4-8 weeks, at which point she will move on to an immunosuppresant called Imuran, which is one of two drugs that comes in a dose small enough for Nora. It has some scary side effects, but we will be staying up on them with weekly blood tests for the first few months, then every three months after we get her up to the right dose and feel good about how it is effecting her body and working on the disease. For the next few months we will have to be very careful in doing everything we can to make sure Nora doesn't get sick - because her immune system is suppressed she will get sick very easily, and because of her disease any diarrhea or vomiting or fever can be very dangerous for her. We love you all, but if you are sick STAY AWAY!!! :-)

We are so fortunate to live where we do and have two amazing children's hospitals withing 40 miles of our house. Dr. Pickens also used to work with the leading inflammatory bowel disease expert on the west coast (Dr. Heimlen in San Francisco), and he has already consulted on Nora's case. We are also blessed to live among so much family and such wonderful friends who have overwhelmed us with their love and support. Thank you!

Today's Update

2009-11-14T17:13:00.000-08:00

I know, twice in two days - it's amazing, what can I say.

Just wanted to give a quick update on Nora. She slept relatively well last night and seems to be feeling a lot better today. She had some good laughs with Harper and seemed to be a little more of her feisty, happy self. She does seem rather fatigued and tires easily, that is probably from the anemia. But all in all I feel like I can get back to focusing on more important things like setting my sister up with Nora's doctor.

Nora

2009-11-13T12:58:00.000-08:00

I typically like to keep my blog light and funny. No, my life isn't all rainbows and sunshine, I just like to amuse you all with a hilarious spin on motherhood, work, school and all that goes along with those things. Obviously there is some serious crap involved, but personally I think blogs should be funny so I like to turn that crap into lemonade....er something.

However, most of you know that my 9 month old daughter Nora has been struggling for most of her life with pain that we don't know the cause of, and many have asked for an update this week after several procedures and tests. That being said, this post will probably be a downer. There's your disclaimer.

At Nora's one month check up her doc decided she had acid reflux and put her on Zantac. It seemed to work for a few weeks but she was back to screaming and not eating rather quickly. After a change to Prevacid we thought we had things under control until about 5-6 months old. Nora has never been a great sleeper - she typically wants to be held and even then she really only sleeps for a maximum of 3 hours at a time (if I'm super-duper lucky), but around 5 months she took a turn for the worse and was up most of the night screaming in pain. Most nights I "sleep" sitting up in bed with Nora on my chest, or Tom walks her around. Finally at 7 months after insisting to her doc that there was something else wrong he referred me to the GI clinic at Mary Bridge. We saw Dr. Pickens for the first time a month ago today and at that point Nora was off all growth charts and losing weight. He ran blood work and some other preliminary tests to find her inflammtory markers high, white blood cell count high, and red blood cell count low. Although very rare in infants, Dr. Pickens suspected Crohn's and did an endoscopy and flex sig the next week, which showed villi loss in her small intestine, blood in her stomach, and unhealthy tissue throughout her stomach and small intestine.. Biopsies were negative for eosiniphilic disorder (a white blood cell disorder), celiac (gluten intolerance), positive for inflammation, pointing again to Crohn's.

This week he did an upper GI with small bowel follow through (drink barium contrast and take x-rays ALL DAY while it goes through your system), at which point he was convinced it was Crohn's and even started discussing treatment plans. Wednesday we did a colonoscopy to "confirm", but it looked normal. He sent in biopsies anyway and redid her blood work, which showed her still anemic, and her white blood cell count and inflammatory markers almost doubled.

At this point Crohn's is still an option, but it is becoming more and more unclear. We are waiting for more blood results and biopsy results to take the next step. Meanwhile Nora seems to be getting worse each day. Up until the last week she has had horrible waves of pain and bad nights, but other then that has always been very happy, smiley and easy going. If you make eye contact with her she will give you a beautiful, big open mouthed smile. However this week she is not a happy camper at all. She couldn't eat for most of Tuesday and Wednesday because of the procedures, she became very dehydrated, and her blood work on Wednesday had to be taken from a vein in her scalp after being poked twice in each hand and foot. She normally loves to crawl around, get into things, stand up and cruise, but this week she just wants to be held and doesn't even have the strength to pull herself up anymore. Last night she screamed from 9:00pm until 2:45am. I definitely haven't been in denial - I am the one who has been insisting to her doc all this time that there was something wrong - however, this week has been sobering and depressing to say the least.

At this point I feel like I could honestly care less what her diagnosis is - I just want to know so I can take care of her the way she needs. Thank you to everyone who has been a huge support this last month with helping take care of Harper during all the many doctor's appointments, your words of encouragement and your prayers. I firmly believe that Heavenly Father guides people to our lives to help us through challenges and I have seen that this month more then any time in my life.

Harper Sings

2009-04-15T20:28:00.000-07:00

The other day Harper asked to hold Nora, then said she wanted to sing to her, so I grabbed my camera. She normally does a much better job with her ABC's, but this was too funny not to post! Also, you might not be able to hear it, but at the very end when she pushes Nora's head down she's saying "Go night-night."

Women At Work

2009-04-06T17:26:00.000-07:00

Sometimes life is full of surprises. I admit that I normally revel in these tiny unexpected moments of bliss, even sometimes when they might not be so blissful. I don't know, I guess there's a reason Tom calls me a Drama Queen. Call me crazy, but I like change - too much of the same thing really bores me.

However, I also do not like it when things don't go my way. I don't think I'm overly selfish, I just like to plan and I like to be in control of my plan, and I really don't like it when I'm not. My plan was to take four months off work after I had Nora - I have so much sick and vacation time saved up that I would have been paid my regular part-time salary for 2 of those months, so Tom and I figured we could go 2 months without. Unfortunately things didn't go as planned. It became glaringly obvious that the temp we hired (who was recommended by our CPA) was NOT working out about 5 days after I gave birth. I'd get 3-4 phone calls a day with him asking me the same questions over and over. It got to the point that it was more stressful babysitting this guy and fixing his mistakes then it would be to just go back to work and do it myself. At first I was extremely frustrated - not only because I didn't want to go back to work yet, but also because I really love my job and I didn't want to end up resenting it. But one of the reasons I love my job so much is because I have the best bosses in the world and they sat down with me and we worked everything out so that I would only have to come in once a week at the most. Tom also had to talk me down a couple times, reassuring me that everything would work out, and that he could stay home on the days I went into my office.

So two weeks ago I woke up at 5:00am - well actually I woke up at 2:00am to feed Nora who then refused to let me put her down, but I handed her off to Tom at 5:00am and got up to get ready to catch the train. It was kinda weird. Like I hadn't taken any time off at all, it was just back to routine as normal. It was even 30 degrees outside, just like my last day of work back in January.

My bag was packed with everything I needed to spend a full day away from my nursing daughter - a breast pump, milk collection bags, sanitary wipes to clean the pump, lots and lots of extra breast pads, and two ice packs to keep the milk cold on the train ride home. By the time I got to my office my boobs were already killing me, but I had so much work to do I had to ignore them for a couple of hours. By now my milk had let down three times and, fearing I would drown in my own milk, I decided to take a break and pump.

Even though I have my own office, I decided to pump in the bathroom since I have a rather large window by my door that looks right out into our reception area. At this point I only had my small one-boob pump (my sister sent me her big one last week, and even though it makes me feel like a cow, I love how efficient it is), so I took my bag into the bathroom and started pumping away. Like I said, I had been up since 2:00, and had only gotten about 2 hours of sleep, so sitting down without anything to do but listen to the (extremely loud) hum of the pump, I promptly feel asleep, right there on the toilet in the last stall of the floor's public restroom. I have no idea how long I was out, but it couldn't have been too long after I drifted off that I fell forward off the toilet and into the stall door in front of me. After I got my pumping back in order someone came into the bathroom and yelled "What is that NOISE??" I wasn't sure if I should just ignore her, or yell back, "IT'S A BREAST PUMP!" I tried to decide what to do quickly, but I was still kind of tired and maybe I hit my head too hard on the door, so I just sat there, pumping away, my mouth hanging open while I tried to decide what to say. Then the woman left without using the facilities, which I thought was kind of weird, but maybe she just had to look in the mirror or something. The other two times I pumped that day someone came in, which I found rather annoying because there's barely anyone on our floor and I almost never run into to anyone in the restroom when I use it. But I had been gone for almost two months, maybe some of the empty offices had been rented.

A week later I ventured back to Seattle with all my pumping paraphernalia. I grabbed the elevator along with 3 other women and while listening to the group's conversation I realized it was going to be a long day. One woman asked the other two women she was with if they had heard the buzzing in the bathroom yet. "No," they said, "It must have just been on that one day that you heard it." "It was weird," the first woman said, "because I know someone was in that stall but she didn't say anything." This is when I realized they were talking about ME. "Well she WAS in the bathroom, maybe she didn't feel like having a conversation." I was just staring at the floor trying to decide if I should pipe up and come clean that it was me when they turned to me and asked if I had heard it. "Umm...I don't know...what did it sound like?" Stupid! Why didn't I just say "Actually I think I know what you're talking about and I think it was my breast pump!" Then the four of us could have a nice laugh and be on with our day. But no. I had to act like I didn't know, and the answer I got to my question was, "Well to be honest, it kind of sounded like a vibrator." Great. Now I definitely couldn't own up to it. But it just got worse. "Oh my gosh," one of the other women said, "what if it was?! What if there's some perv in our building??"

And just like that, I was the Creepy Colman Building perv. The doors opened on my floor and I got off the elevator - halfway down the hall I wondered why I didn't just say "Maybe it was a breast pump." I would have dispelled any horrid rumors and I wouldn't have to admit it was me all along. More people came into the bathroom while I was pumping that day but no one said anything, and I just kept telling myself that I was doing this for Nora. When I got home that evening I opened my bag to put my milk in the freezer only to find that I hadn't closed the bags tight enough and they had spilled out everywhere. Nice. I hadn't done it for Nora, I had done it for nothing.

Thankfully the aforementioned awesome bosses said they would get blinds for my office window so I can pump in there - and no, I most certainly did not tell them it was because I was about to be black listed as the Colman Building Perv.

I hope any men out there reading this really appreciate what working mothers have to go through!

Dots and Spots

2009-03-04T15:04:00.000-08:00

When I was growing up I had a very hard time with "dots". Dots were uncomfortable spots on my clothes that would annoy me - like a scratchy tag or the seam on the toe of my sock that would squish into my foot when I put my shoe on (the worst offender). I was notorious for throwing tantrums at the drop of a hat if I had a spot, even stopping in the middle of crossing the street to take my shoe off and fix the spot. For the most part my parents thought it was funny (and have pictures of the tantrums to prove it), but to be honest it really drove me crazy. I even went through a naked phase because the dots bothered me so much. My aunt and cousins in Orem know first hand about this phase - they were babysitting me while my parents were on vacation and I insisted on playing outside....naked. My aunt let me because she figured I'd get embarrassed after a couple minutes and come back in, but nope, I stayed out there all day and had a sun-burned butt to show for it.

As I got older I realized there were lots of other weird OCD things that I have. Some of them I have grown out of or overcome (I can sometimes walk on grates and/or cracks on the sidewalk...sometimes there is no way around it in Seattle), and some of them have actually gotten worse as I've gotten older (uneven blinds will be the death of me), but I always swore that when I had kids I would always take their "dots" seriously, and I would make sure my hubby did, too.

Harper does not have dots...she has "spots". And I swear I did NOT teach her!! About a year ago she started talking about spots, and coincidentally, they were usually on her feet. I am always very careful about how I put on her shoes, and if she says she has a spot I take them off and try again. I have also given Tom strict instructions, and he is very patient and loving about it. Probably because I still talk about how traumatic it was when no one would help me with my dots and just laugh at me.

Anyway, last Sunday was kind of a rough day. Harper has been having a hard time going to sleep at night, which makes her more prone to tantrums during the day. It is odd for me to deal with because she has never been one to throw tantrums or not sleep. I like to think I do a pretty good job of staying patient and helping her work through whatever issues she's having, but Sunday I was exhausted and really couldn't handle it. Tom had left to go to church meetings, but I called him and asked if he could come home and help me. I assumed he was going to just stay home and help out, but he decided to take Harper to church w/ him and give me some time alone at home. I thought that was really sweet of him because 1) Harper LOVES church and perked up as soon as I said she was going to church w/ Daddy, and 2) I really wanted some time alone.

When Tom got home I had Harper almost ready, she just needed to get her shoes on. He was already running late, so I was trying to hurry as fast as I could, but Harper said she had a spot. I tried to fix it a couple of times, but each time I put her shoe on the spot was still there.

And here is how I know I married the best man ever:

Tom picked up Harper and patiently asked her where the spot was. He took off her shoe, examined the tights and asked me if there were any other tights she could wear. Her other pair had dirt all over them, so he took off her tights, got a pair of scissors, and started cutting back the seam as much as he could so the spot wouldn't be so big. By now he was probably going to miss most of his meetings, but he took his time and kept telling Harper he would fix the spot. Finally he got her tights back on, put her shoes on and asked her if it was ok. Harper walked around for a second, nodded, and off to church they went.

And THAT is the proper way to deal with spots and dots.

Nora Evelyn

2009-03-04T10:49:00.000-08:00

Almost three weeks ago on Friday, February 13th (my birthday!) I gave birth to Nora Evelyn. My actual due date was just two days ago, so she was a bit early, but everything went well and she was (and is) absolutely perfect. It was kind of a crazy experience doing it au naturale (no epidural), and minutes after I gave birth I made Tom promise me that he wouldn't let me do it again. He kept saying "But you did it! You did such a good job!", to which I yelled "NO, PROMISE ME!!" But honestly I felt great five minutes later, it was such an easy recovery.

Having two kids is really not as hard as I thought it was going to be, but there is definitely a rather lage lack of sleep. With one baby you can just sleep whenever she sleeps, but with a toddler and a baby that's not really possible...although I will admit to turning on Sleeping Beauty for Harper and falling asleep on the couch more then once.

Harper is such a sweet big sister, and I swear she can already communicate with Nora. She is always telling me what Nora wants: "Baby hungry," or "Baby sleepy," and just this morning she told me "Nora poopy", and indeed she was! When Nora cries Harper runs to her side to calm her - sometimes with "ssshhhh's", sometimes with tickles. She also love "taking naps" with Nora (I don't actually let them sleep together, but Harper likes to lay in her bed and then asks me to put Nora next to her to "take nap"), and even better, taking baths with her.

It is funny because I really thought I only wanted two children, but having Nora makes me realize I want another one....some day :)

Grandma Lee

2009-01-19T20:18:00.000-08:00

After a year-long battle with cancer, my Grandma Lee passed away two weeks ago. Although it was not unexpected, it was a bit sooner then any of us anticipated - Tom and I had planned a trip to Utah in May to see her one last time and have her meet her newest great-granddaughter. When I found out she had days to live I was extremely depressed, especially knowing I probably wouldn't be able to go to the funeral, being almost 8 months pregnant. While part of me was glad I had last seen her when she was healthy, I mostly felt guilty and upset that I hadn't kept in better contact with her over this last year which I know was pretty much hell for her. I had the best intentions to call on a regular basis, send pictures of Harper, etc., but as always, time seemed to slip away too quickly. I have gotten through the last couple of weeks by remembering some of the really wonderful times I had with my Grandma.

Grandma was rather quirky. Her OCD and shopoholic-ness (yes, that's a word) combined for a condo-full of Ferragamo shoes, Lladro figurines, souvenirs from all her travels, and probably every book ever sold at Deseret Book. She kept everything, including shopping bags from the 50's, which I'm sure held some sort of sentimental significance to her....or maybe she just liked the bags...I can understand. Many things she bought never even got opened. When I lived in Orem I visited her a couple times a week - I'd pick up her mail, help her with her computer, and watch Wallace and Gromit with her. The first week I was there she got a Lladro box in the mail - I was so excited when I saw the box I ran up the stairs to her condo and said "Let's open it!!" "Oh no," she said, "just put it on the table with the other mail." I lived there for 4 months and it was in the same place the day I left. One day I jokingly asked if I could have it since she wasn't going to use it, but the very idea was rather appalling to her. Her reaction still makes me laugh.

Growing up, Grandma would come visit once a year. She always had the same suitcase and overnight bag, which Erica and I called the present bag. Each visit she would pull out something wonderful for all of us from that little flowered bag. Following the presents came the hugs, which were almost as good as the presents (that's saying a lot for a 6 year old girl with a new Strawberry Shortcake doll in her hands). She combined the perfect amount of squeeze and squish for the ultimate hug - and she always smelled lovely.

Grandma loved animals. When I was 8 she got a tiny black poodle named Sammy who she doted on and adored until he died in her arms just a few years ago. She had a horrible time with his death and didn't even want to let him out of her arms. My cousins surprised her with a cat, Lucy, to keep her company after Sammy died, and she quickly became a much-loved family member. Grandma said she could sit on her chair and watch Lucy play all day, and it was always fun to hear her stories of how Lucy could climb all the way to the top of her bookshelves. Pets were always treated as part of the family - when Grandma wrote letters (which she did very often) they always included love to Truman, Oliver and Scout.

The last time I saw her was Thanksgiving 2007 when she came to visit. After dinner I was talking about a certain frienemy who kept making inappropriate comments about me waiting "so long" to have kids and wondering why I wasn't pregnant again (Harper had just turned 1 at this point). Grandma patted my hand and reminded me that it was about "quality, not quantity", and that my "timing" was "no one else's business." Over the next year whenever anyone would ask me when I was going to have more kids I would smile and remember what my Grandma said.

If I start to get too sad thinking about Grandma, I always imagine her now with Grandpa, who died when she was about 5 months pregnant with my dad. I will miss my Grandma dearly, and I'm sad she didn't get to meet my baby, but after 60 years missing her sweetheart I'm glad she finally gets to be with him again.

Harperisms

2008-11-13T12:28:00.001-08:00

My daughter is pretty much the funniest thing in the world. She says and does the most hilarious things, I thought I'd share a few here.

Yucky Spiders
If you know me at all you know I am absolutely, deathly terrified of spiders. It has gotten slightly less debilitating over the years, but it is certainly not something I want to share with Harper. To help her be normal (that is as opposed to whatever the heck I am), I do things like sing "Itsy Bitsy Spider", read her books in which the protagonist is a spider, and say, when one happens to be in our house,"Oh wow, a spider!" through hidden tears and gritted teeth before I run to the other room, scream into a pillow and ask Tom to kill it.

A couple months ago I was giving Harper a bath and halfway through realized, to my horror, that there was a giant, dead spider floating in her bath water at her feet. I must say, I am rather proud of how calm I stayed. I simply told her it was time to dry off, picked her up out of the tub and began our regular routine to dry off and get PJ's on. However, Harper saw the spider as I was taking her out of the tub and became completely obsessed with it. She said, "Spidah" in this really gruff, annoyed voice, and then "Yucky!" in the same tone. I'd never heard her use this voice before and it sounded pretty frickin' hilarious. You know when Napoleon Dynamite gets frustrated and makes that "UH!" noise right before he says "Freaking idiot"? I would say that's pretty much exactly what it sounded like. "UH! Yucky! UH!" Over and over. Not only that, but she refused to let me dry her off, she had to keep staring at the spider. I finally had to distract her, put one of her bath toys over it, and then tell her it went bye-bye so I could get her PJ's on and get the heck out of the bathroom. I left the water and spider there for Tom to take care of when he got home.

Ever since then she'll call anything that she doesn't know a spider. A piece of yarn on the floor - yucky spider. A booger she just picked from her nose - yucky spider. A few weeks ago I was putting her in her chair for dinner and a small pea had gotten left on her chair and was all shrivelled up. You guessed it - yucky spider. I brushed it off her chair and told here there were no spiders, but she kept pointing on the floor and insisting there were yucky spiders. Halfway through the meal I said "Harper, I don't see any spiders - there aren't any," to which her quick reply was, "It's tiny." The next morning when I sat her in her chair again for breakfast she whispered "Tiny spidahs".

A few days ago after Harper had her breakfast, we went into the living room to play with toys. There was a small stain on the carpet in front of the fireplace that hadn't been there the day before. I said "Uh-oh, what's that?" and knelt down to check it out. Harper did the same, touched it, and said "Spidah poop."

Bye-bye Mickey
For Harper and Erica's birthdays in September we went to Disneyland. She really loved all of it, but I'd say the highlight for her was meeting Mickey right before the fireworks on her birthday. I wondered if she would remember anything from the trip, even short term, but she still talks about "Tee-bell flying" (Tinkerbell), "Dinneylan", and Mickey on a regular basis.

A few weeks ago Harper and I were walking on the sidewalk and I pointed out a low airplane to her. "Airpane, airpane, airpane!" She was jumping up and down, very excited. Then all of a sudden she hung her head, sighed, and said as morosely as possible, "Bye-bye, Mickey."

Happy Crickamacka!
At Costco last week we were surprised to see all of Christmas decorations out. Harper especially loved the small carousel and all the snowmen (which she pronounces snowmeeeeeen). I pointed to a lit Christmas tree and asked her what it was - "A tree." So I told her it's a Christmas tree, and asked if we should put one in our house (this was her absolute favorite thing about Christmas last year). "YEAH!" she said, "A Crickamacka tree!!" I laughed so hard, and in the car the next day I talked about Thanksgiving and Christmas, and what we do on each holiday. I told her Erica was coming for Thanksgiving, and we eat lots of yummy food, and talk about things we like. Before I could get very far on Christmas, Harper yelled "Happy Crickamacka!!!"

"There May Be A Gap..."

2008-10-08T17:10:00.000-07:00

I have had an ingrown toe nail for many years now. Sometimes it's super painful, sometimes I don't even know it's there, so I've just put off getting it taken care of. However, about a month ago it was really starting to get bad, so I scheduled an appointment to get it removed when I got back from Disneyland. It was done yesterday and let me tell you, it is extremely disturbing.

I've had lots of crazy medical procedures - three surgeries for endometriosis, 5 cortisone injections in various parts of my back, this horrid nerve test where they stick needles with tiny microphones on the end of them into your nerves and listen to them, not to mention the whole birthing a baby. Yet for some reason, THIS procedure has been horrible for me! Not because it's excruciatingly painful - as long as I don't put a shoe on it really doesn't hurt much at all. Because the thought of a portion of my toe nail being pulled from my toe and ripped from the nail bed is seriously giving me nightmares.

Before yesterday morning I thought they basically numbed your toe, lifted the side of the nail and filed it back a bit. Maybe did some cutting, and then put the chemical on it to keep it from growing. You can imagine my horror when the nurse brought in the tray of tools for the procedure. I'm not sure if pregnancy just makes me a giant wuss, but I literally almost passed out seeing that. Then came the doctor's explanation of the procedure, half of which I think I was blacked out for (trust me, you don't wanna hear it). After the clipping and yanking (and maybe a bit of pee in my pants) the doc said cheerily, "That looks great! There's a bit of a gap between the nail and the skin for now, but that should grow back in nicely....do you want to see it before I bandage it up?"

The actual toe could not have been worse then the images in my head after the "gap" comment, but I graciously declined anyway. The rest of the day went ok - my toe was numb until late last night so physically I felt totally fine. Mentally I was a total wreck. Which, in turn, made me feel even worse for being so upset about a toe nail!

Last night I didn't get a whole lot of sleep. I move around a lot in my sleep, so I kept waking up to shooting pain in my toe when I'd hit it against something (my leg, Tom's leg, the cat, etc.). And then there were the nightmares. At first they were somewhat reasonable and made a little sense - a toe nail extraction gone wrong, lots of blood, giant scalpels. Then they turned into weird cosmetic surgery nightmares - I went in for a routine dermatology appointment and then said to the doc, "Hey, while I'm here, do you think you could tighten up my throat and jawline a bit?" "Oh sure," the doc said, "that'll look great! It's a simple procedure...." Then came her opening up the whole side of my face with no anaesthesia. The whole time I'm thinking Oops, I guess I should have asked how much this will cost, and Crap, how am I going to explain the swelling and stitches to Tom? After waking up from that one I warily went back to sleep to find out that my bill for the surgery was $82,000.

This morning I was already wide awake when my alarm went off. I was thinking about post-surgical instruction #1 - Take of dressing the morning after surgery, apply AmeriGel, re-dress. I had to actually LOOK at my toe. I sat down in the bathroom and got it over with, but the image of the "gap" is forever burned into my brain. I did a pretty good job of not thinking about it while getting ready for work, but an hour later as I'm putting my shoes on, I realize this ain't gonna happen. I try a different pair of shoes...nope. I try completely unlacing my running shoes...uh-uh. They all pushed down on top of the nail...on top of the "gap". After trying to have a coherent conversation with Tom about what I should do (impossible at that hour), I decided to just call my boss and work from home today. Tom worked from home today also to help me with Harper and to help keep my mind off the horrible image. I have been doing ok, but I am just a few hour away from having to reapply the gel and I'm getting very nervous.

No wonder I put this off for so long.

Rest in Peace, Rocky

2008-10-06T11:50:00.000-07:00

I am a little late in posting this, but wanted to anyway. Last week my in-law's dog Rocky died, and since I was not in attendance at the funeral I wanted to say a few last words.

Besides Tom, Rocky was the first Worton I met. When Tom took me to his parents house after a few weeks of dating, I was met in the driveway by a most friendly and excited Boxer, a short stub of a stick in his mouth, making it look like he was smoking a cigar. It was more then a little overwhelming meeting Tom's entire family that day, but I was comforted every five minutes or so as Rocky would wander over and nuzzle my hand. Although I'm pretty sure he was just wanting me to throw his slobbery ball for him ("Let's see if the new girl will fall for it").

Rocky was a good dog. When Tom and I got Scout 4 years ago, Rocky was his first friend. Not that he was the first dog Scout met, but Rocky was just patient enough to be his friend. When Scout was about 6 months old Tom and I went on vacation to Banff and Scout stayed with Grandma & Grandpa Worton, and I have to say I actually felt kind of bad taking Scout away from Rocky when we returned. Occasionally we bring Scout up for Sunday dinner at the Worton household, and Rocky always looked genuinely pleased to see Scout. I love Scout to death, but he is a lot to handle - Rocky, however, always took it stride, even the incessant humping (Scout is a confused dog).

Rocky had very loving parents. He was not only a good dog, but a lucky one. One Sunday dinner soon after meeting Tom's family, we had a huge waffle dinner. It is always one of my favorites - we have about 5 waffle irons going in the kitchen, and Michele makes several different kinds of syrup. Melani makes her cheesey eggs, and there's usually a wide variety of meat as well (ham, sausage, bacon, etc.). After dinner I was helping with the dishes and noticed there were a few left over waffles. I asked Tom's dad what he wanted me to do with them and he told me to go ahead and give them to Rocky. I picked up the plate, walked over to Rocky's dish and scraped them into his bowl - "No, no, no!!" I heard from Tom's dad. "That's not how he likes it!" The waffles were picked back up, cut into small pieces, and drenched with syrup. The plate was set on the floor and Rocky came running, his stubby tail wagging.

Like many large breed dogs, Rocky had hip problems. Rocky was beyond middle age when it got too bad to let it endure. There are many dog owners who would simply put their dog down in a case like this. It is sad, but surgeries are expensive. However there was only ever one option for Tom's parents. It didn't matter what the surgery cost (and it cost a lot), Rocky was simply another member of the family - they certainly wouldn't have let one of their children go without a hip replacement if needed, so they weren't going to let their dog go without either. It is comforting to see a dog so thoroughly and unconditionally loved as Rocky was.

The love went both ways though. Rocky was a gift to Tyler when he was in high school. At 19 Tyler left for South Africa to serve a two year mission for church, but Rocky did not forget him. The whole family went to South Africa to pick Tyler up when the two years were up, and after flying home, Tom and I went to his parent's house to pick up our car. Tom and his dad starting hauling Tyler's luggage into the house, and immediately Rocky ran to the luggage and starting sniffing it. He ran around in circles, his tail wagging so hard his entire butt was shaking. It was absolutely adorable.

Rest in peace, Rocky - you were loved by all who knew you.

I Have A Thing For...

2008-09-09T21:05:00.000-07:00

There are a lot of things in life that I really love. One might say I have a "thing" for them. For example, I have a thing for shoes. I really can't get enough of them. I like the way they look on my feet, the way they look lined up neatly on my shoecase (like a bookcase, but for shoes), and I like the perfectly folded tissue paper that envelopes a brand new pair in their perfectly sized box.

I also have a thing books. I like a wide variety of genres - mystery, fantasy/sci-fi, biographies, chick lit, essays, poetry. I am protective of my books - I never dog ear, I don't fold back the front part of the book when I'm reading, and I'm always very careful about applying equal pressure along the spine so as not to wear out one part more then another. The bookcases in my house are not only full but overflowing, and although I wish they looked a little neater, I can't help but love the fact that I have too many books.

I have a thing for makeup. The first time I applied makeup on myself I was 6 or 7 and I thought my mom had gone on errands. I grabbed my little sister and we ran into her bathroom and put on as much as we could and admired ourselves. When I heard my mom coming up the stairs and I realized my error, I was terrified of how mad she would be (we really used a lot). Instead she laughed hysterically and took pictures of us. I have been enthralled since that day. I used to sneak lip stick into my backpack in elementary school and put it on when I got there because I knew my mom would make me wipe it off if she saw it. Today I have one bathroom drawer full of makeup and one drawer full of skin care products, plus a bag in my office drawer and stragglers in each purse and/or bag (of which I also have a thing for). If I stopped buying any makeup or skin care products completely today, my stash would easily last me longer then a year. I take samples wherever I can get them, and I have a special compartment in each drawer that holds them. Some of my things I have splurged on, others I bought in bulk from elf.com - each item has a special place in my heart.

I have a thing for my daughter's voice. It is somehow tiny and huge all at once. She talks constantly, some in her own language, some in English (or close to it). Her voice inflections are extremely dramatic and hilarious (anyone who has heard the various ways she says "Oh no!" knows what I am talking about), and she loves to copy sounds she hears - and she does an amazingly good job at it, too.

I have a thing for people who consistently make me laugh. I just finished David Sedaris' most recent book last night and was lying in bed laughing hysterically all by myself. I know this happens to most people who read his books - that is pure talent. Will Ferrel is another one. Tom had never seen the cow bell skit from SNL, so I YouTubed it the other night and watched it with him. It always amazed me how he never broke down and laughed or even cracked a smile while delivering his lines while he was on SNL. The rest of the set could be buckled over in hysterics and he is the only one still giving his lines (and making everyone else on the set laugh even harder...see, for example, any one of the Jeffrey's skits). More examples are Jon Stewart (and anyone on his show, past or present, including Stephen Colbert and Steve Carrel), the gang from Scrubs, the gang from Arrested Development, Richard Jury & Melrose Plant, all the members of my family, and Rick Astley. Ok, so that last one isn't intentionally funny, but if you've ever been rickrolled, you've seen the guy dance and come on - that is classic.

The other day on the train I heard a woman in the seat across from me tell the woman next to her what she has a "thing" for. I was reading my book and trying hard to block out the conversations around me, but this woman's was really hard to block. She was complaining about her job, and the woman next to her, who worked for the King County police department, told her she should look into any openings that they might have. The Complainer got extremely excited and told her friend she would "just die" to work for the police department. Another woman in their foursome (who had been quietly listening until now) said, "Really? Why's that?" And The Complainer said, quite loudly, "I have a thing for serial killers."

Come again?

It was like a reflex when my head snapped around to look at her - and I noticed that I certainly wasn't the only one. I would have loved to hear a further explanation, but the three women around her all looked down into their laps and stopped talking. Understandably. The Complainer had been knitting, so she simply picked up her yarn again and continued on. I stared at her for a good five minutes wondering what could possibly be going through her mind, then even tried to follow her off the train to see how she walked, where she was going, or if there were any other indications of psychosis. There wasn't, which made me even more intrigued. I guess you could say I have a thing for people who have things for serial killers.

Where's My Glow?

2008-08-14T19:16:00.000-07:00

Tom and I decided at the end of May that we wanted another baby. When we decided that the first time it took about two years before we actually had one, so you can imagine our surprise when two weeks later I saw two little pink lines. I hadn't even had time to come to grips with the fact that I had actually agreed to do the whole morning sickness, back pain, cankles, heart burn, etc., all over again before I actually started going through it. Granted this one has been an absolute breeze compared to the first, but that isn't to say that I haven' t been without a few puking and fainting sessions.

Two days ago Tom hauled out my boxes of maternity clothes from the garage and I went through them all and started washing out the garage smell. I have been a little lucky this time in that up until last week I still fit into most of my regular sized clothes, probably because I walk quite a bit during the week when I work - last time I was on bed rest for a majority of my first trimester, so I gained a LOT of weight just sitting around and eating. However, this week the "regular" clothes are definitely not happening, so I was pleasantly reminded about one of the few really great things about pregnancy - elastic waist pants.

Sitting in my stretchy pants, I thought about some of the other good things about being pregnant. From the last time, I remember having shiny, thick, bouncy hair, glowing skin, and super strong nails. I looked down at my nails and realized that I do have really strong nails - usually mine crack and break, but they've been amazing. However, I most certainly do NOT have shiny, thick or bouncy hair, and there is definitely NO glow. Where's my glow?? This is extremely disappointing. I can only hope that it is just too early, and that the sparkly hair and glowy face is still to come.

The Convicts

2008-08-04T13:10:00.000-07:00

Typically my morning and afternoon train rides are delightfully uneventful. I bring my book, I read, I sometimes fall asleep. Lately I have had to concentrate a little harder on not puking, but other then that it is simply a faster, greener, less stressful way for me to get to work. And I love it.

Once when Harper's babysitter was out of town my mom watched Harper for us and because of Tom's weird schedule I had to drive her up to Renton and then take the bus into Seattle from Renton. I thought nothing of it, having ridden plenty forms of public transportation in this city and others, but it was HORRID. It smelled like cigarettes mixed with puke mixed with BO mixed with marijuana - a deadly combination for anyone, let alone a morning sickness -prone pregnant woman. The giant woman sitting "next" to me was actually mostly ON me, and the couple across from me was openly discussing whether or not they should include me in their orgy that weekend. The bus goes up and down hills, bounces around, stops every 22 seconds, and is pretty much a freak show on wheels. Oh, and no AC.

Later on I decided that the people on the bus were actually a lot more interesting then the people on the train, just the train itself is better. It's cool on a hot day, warm on a cold day, smooth, fast, stops only 4 times, is never bouncy, and there's always plenty of room (i.e., no one will sit on me). So today, imagine my great delight and surprise when three women convicts got on at the Kent station and discussed in detail their various cell mates, booking experiences, court cases, and favorite drugs. What a perfect day to forget my book! I was sitting right in front of them, so I couldn't see them and it was totally killing me. I changed seats halfway to Tukwila with the excuse of wanting to stretch my legs and got a good look at them all and even got to talk to them a few times.

So just in case any of you go to prison, here are a few helpful hints from the Sounder Convicts:

1) Try not to say the "f" word in court. They're not sure why, but the judges don't like it.
2) When they (inevitably) book you, make sure you start fights with anyone and everyone you possibly can. It will make your booking time longer (up to 13 hours), but it will be worth it that night when you can sleep soundly because everyone has by now heard of how crazy you are and will all keep clear.
3) Do NOT steal anyone's Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, especially if it's the last one. You WILL get cut.
4) Purdy is by far the best prison to go to.
5) If your cell mate is a "2lbs meth addict", make friends with her and protect her from the other inmates. Good things will happen to you on the outside.
6) If your cell mate is a 400lbs beast who hasn't washed her hair in five years and farts in her sleep, do not make friends with her. Nothing good will happen.

I Need a Hairmet

2008-07-17T08:59:00.000-07:00

For the last six months or so Tom and I have been coming up with several creative ideas on how to sucker someone into buying our SUV. However, no one is as dumb as we are, and we have therefore had no bites. And while I'm pretty sure last Sunday was the first (and only) time we've ever actually hauled something with it, I have to admit that I really love this car. It was an absolute life saver when I was preggers - if you have never been 9 months pregnant you'll just have to take it from me that it is 100% impossible to get in and out of a car by yourself, but getting in and out of the Jeep was a breeze. Just lean your butt on the seat, scooch it back, swing your legs in. Granted I still kind of hoped no one was watching when I was doing this, but it was far better then the time I got stuck in my friend's Civic. That is a story for another day (i.e., never).

Anywho, since filling up the Jeep tank costs roughly the amount of my mortgage, I only drive to the train station and back (and when we need to haul something, like that one time 4 days ago). I take one of the later trains from Puyallup, which does not have a parking garage, so I usually park about 5 blocks away and hike it back to the station. Because of this I leave my house a half hour before the train leaves, even though it takes no more then 15 minutes to get there, because I have to allow for those days that my usual spot is taken, and the 5-7 minute walk back to the train station (depending on how awake I am that morning).

These last few weeks while walking back to the station and standing in line I have found myself staring longingly at the mint green Vespa parked with the bikes about 10 feet from the train line. Not only can you go 900 miles on its tiny tank of gas, you don't have to drive around frantically looking for a parking spot, run 5 blocks to the train if your usual spot was taken, but they're also extremely cheap and cute to boot.

(You might not be able to tell, but this is actually a very beautiful dark purple)

The normal arguments went through my mind and were quickly discarded: What about winter? They're so cheap it would be worth it to just drive it in the summer, even in a Seattle summer, which is the last two weeks of July and most of August. What about Harper? I'd just drive home from the train station in the evenings and walk to her babysitter's to pick her up with the stroller, it's probably less then 1/4 mile from my house. What about getting groceries, etc? I'd just plan better and only go shopping on the weekends while Tom's not using the regular car. However, there is one argument that I just can't get around. Helmet hair. Maybe if my hair was straight, or it was the kind of curly where it's always beautiful and bouncy no matter what you do to it (these curlies are rare because real curlies like me usually kill them in a jealous rage), but if I put a helmet on my head I will pretty much be guaranteed a flat, frizzy mess for the rest of the day.

What I need, peoples, is a hairmet a la JD on Scrubs. So if anyone can find me one, I will be extremely happy. So happy that I might give you ride on my purple Vespa.

Prince Eric

2008-07-03T13:14:00.001-07:00

I would like to officially grant the title of Best Disney Prince to Prince Eric (of Little Mermaid for those not in the know). I have actually thought long and hard about this decision, and I am confident that you will agree with me. Following is the proof.

1. Personality. With the possible exception of Aladdin, Eric has the best personality out of all the Disney princes. However, Aladdin is hereby disqualified from this point because he is the main character of the movie, so of course he has some personality. Prince Eric was a supporting character, and when compared with princes like Prince Phillip (Sleeping Beauty), Prince Charming (Cinderella), and the prince from Snow White (he didn't even have a name, how can you expect a personality?), I believe you will see my point.

2. The castle and kingdom. After extensive googling I still can't seem to nail down the exact location of Prince Eric's kingdom, but I have always assumed it was somewhere in the French Mediterranean. This in and of itself is enough to win over this point, but let's look at a few other things. If the movie is an accurate portrayal of everyday life in Eric's kingdom, everyone is happy and nothing bad ever happens. It is a sunny, lush, and beautiful village in the South of France (again, I'm assuming this, but I'd say it's a pretty good assumption based on the scenery and some of names and accents of the characters). Let's compare this to a few of the other Disney movies: In Sleeping Beauty there is an evil sorceress who casts spells willy-nilly and generally wreaks havoc on the villagers, including putting them all to sleep for 100 years. In Snow White there is an evil queen who is well versed in witchcraft and preys on innocent, unsuspecting young women who are prettier then she is. Granted the seven dwarfs almost make up for this, but not quite. In Cinderella the government obviously lacks any sort of social services, as Cinderella was kept a slave in her own home without anyone else in the village ever noticing or caring. In Aladdin the Grand Vizier (I believe he is second in command) is an evil sub-human sorcerer who can easily hypnotize the Sultan (who seems well-intentioned if a bit dim-witted) and take control over the country....wait....why does that sound familiar?

3. The in-laws. At the beginning of the movie, King Triton believes all humans are "spineless harpooning fish-eaters", and the possibility of Eric dying in a ship wreck would merely mean "one less human to worry about." However, once seeing how much his daughter loves Eric, and after Eric saves the day by killing the sea witch and setting all her weird sea-weed prisoners free (including King Triton himself), he gives Ariel a permanent set of legs and lets his daughter go be happy with Eric. Triton and several other mermaids and mermen come to Ariel and Eric's wedding, and at the end Triton makes a rainbow for the occasion, and respectfully bows to Eric. Eric not only has a father in law who is willing to see the error of his ways, but Eric himself was willing to accept Ariel even when her father would rather see him dead. Now for the in-laws on the other side - although Eric seems to be an orphan and only child, he does have Grimsby (an uncle? A close friend? A political advisor? Not sure...), who may be rather old and crotchety, but let us not forget that he liked Ariel from the start, and helped Eric see his true feelings for her.

4. True love. At sunset of the third day, Ariel turns back into a mermaid to the utter surprise and shock of Prince Eric. However, this doesn't put a damper on his feelings one bit, and he still swims out to sea and risks his life to save Ariel and all the other merpeople. At this point Eric has no idea that it's even possible for him to be with Ariel, as he obviously can't live underwater and Ariel can't live on land, but all he cares about is Ariel being safe and happy.

I believe that is sufficient evidence for the title. There are probably a few things I am overlooking, so if you can think of anything please let me know.

P.S.

2008-07-03T09:29:00.001-07:00

In googling "google founders" for my last post, I was able to learn who the entire board of directors and executive management group is. A Mr. Urls Holzle (two dots above the o, which I am unable to accomplish in anything other then Word, even with extensive googling), has not only the coolest name ever, his job title is "Senior Vice President, Operations & Google Fellow".

My new goal in life: Become a Google Fellow.

I Did It All By Myself

2008-07-03T09:17:00.000-07:00

I transformed my ugly pink/maroon monstrosity of a blog into a beautiful Monet painting all by myself. And by "myself, I obviously mean I googled "blogger templates" and followed the step by step instructions on the pages it brought up.

I honestly wonder how we lived before google. In high school I had to go to the library to do research for a paper or project. Just last week I finished an entire research paper without ever leaving the comfort of my office or cracking a single book. I did have to enlist the help of my lawyer sister to get an article that was only available in a law database, but I originally found out about the article through google scholar. And to prove that google is every bit as beneficial as the library, I got a 97% on my paper. I will be sure to thank Larry Page and Sergey Brin* in my graduation speech.**

*I googled "google founders"
**I am not giving a graduation speech

The Move

2008-07-02T14:54:00.001-07:00

Because I want to be cool like the other kids, I've moved to blogspot. So now you can read all about my life (or my daughter's life, since that's usually what I blog about), without having to go to blurty. You should take those few extra seconds I saved you and tell me how to make my blogspot look presentable (i.e., less pink).