Oceanside, Ca

I was sick with the flu the entire time we were in California. Not fun. However, our plans for our trip to California consisted of the beach, relaxing and relaxing on the beach. I can feel miserable on the beach just as easily as I can feel miserable in bed or on the couch. So the beach we went. I really loved the early morning view from the condo we stayed in...a quick five steps from the sand and water. Watching the fog, waves and surfers was how we enjoyed our breakfast every morning. It was nice to wake up to that. And I didn't feel so sick.

This morning I woke up here in Washington. And I feel miserable. I'm miserable on my dumb ol' couch. Breathing in non-salty air. Listening to lawn mowers instead of waves. Seeing corporate folks taking walks around the block instead of surfers with their boards-they're much better to look at.

Yup, I'm not any more sick. Just much more miserable.

I Heart Bath Time

I've always dreaded giving the girls their baths. It is a chore that I loathe. The girls love taking baths, that's not the problem. The problem lies with the fact that I have to sit in the bathroom and supervise while they play and enjoy.

I was jealous of moms who could put their kids in the tub and go about their business with an extra 20-30 minutes of quiet, well entertained kids. By the time Gabs was old enough to be tub safe, for the most part, Gwen was absolutely not. So there I sat, watching the girls. Getting splashed. Going deaf from the echoing screams of delight. Wishing I could be like all the other moms and have a few moments of peace.

Well, the day has finally come! Bath time is now a break for me and it's everything I imagined it would be. While the girls play, I get to fold laundry without anyone touching my piles. I get to load the dishwasher without little hands removing silverware. I get to call my sister without girls trying to talk as well. I get to hear the pleasing sounds of a fun bath time somewhere other than twelve inches away. And it's great.

Gwen, however, is slightly less entertained by the tub than Gabriella. She likes to tell me "Bibboty bobbity boo. Make you disappear" (see first picture) and slide her slippery little body over the tub and come find me, soaking wet, to tell me "Hi mommy" then go running back to the tub.

I can't help but thinks it's adorable even if it does mean I don't get complete peace and quiet. The little bum is definitely worth the interruption.

So here's to more baths. May we take them three times a day now!

Great. Just Great.

Gabriella ripped open the Hannah Montana card from the mailbox. She studied it for a long, long time. We have never watched Hannah Montana, but with glimpses from commercials, friends, and Wal-Mart, how could any three year old not know who Hannah Montana is?

She jumped up from where she was studying and said, "Mommy, don't turn around, I don't want you to look at my naked."

Without turning around, knowing she was undressing, I say, "Gabs, what are you doing?"

"I want to dress in your closet mom. Like Hannah Montana."

I'm curious. "What do I have in my closet that looks like Hannah Montana?"

"Your clothes mom."

That's just fabulous.

Not exactly the look I'm going for. Please tell me I don't dress like Hannah Montana...I wouldn't even know if I did.

Butter Anyone?

Our girls love butter.

It's a major food group in this house.

In fact, it's sometimes considered a meal.

It really is a sickness, this love affair they have with butter.

They swipe their fingers through it like you'd see a child eat frosting from a cake.

They want it on everything.

They ask to help cook and say "Does it need butter?" "Um, no sweetie, maple glazed ribs don't need butter."

You let them spread their own butter on their bread, and next thing you know, the bread is still plain, and the half cube of butter is gone.

They didn't learn it from me. Or Joe.

We think it's disgusting.

And frankly, we're beginning to worry.

The Future

I have been thinking a lot about our future. Maybe it's because we have another little baby on the way. Maybe it's friends moving. Maybe it's because I'm another year older. I'm not really sure, but it's been on my mind.

Here we are in Washington. We've been here three years and will be here another two. After that, we have no idea where we could go. We don't even get to make that decision. It's a little unsettling. Sometimes, I feel like the only person in the world that has no idea where her family will end up. I feel like everyone else is in "their" home. The one they'll raise their family in forever. The neighborhood they chose specifically for good schools and a nice community. The one where their children's friends now will be the same cute little group they'll spend weekend nights with in high school. I feel anxious that it will be years until we're in that situation.

You see, we're in the Army. Some of you may not know that. Joe was accepted to medical school in St. Louis before we met. After only two weeks of dating, he deferred (see here for more of that story). Shortly after we got married, he received (what was no longer valid) his statement from the bank regarding his student loans. It was big. And it was only for a year. And it was for a single guy. Not a married one. He panicked to say the least.

I knew Joe was very money conscious. Neither of us even owned credit cards. Debt frightened him. And I knew that. I just didn't know to what extent. Weeks went by and the stress of going hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt was really weighing on him. I can remember him waking me up in the middle of the night after not sleeping again, and telling me he'd been thinking that we should join the Army.

Ha!

That's what I thought. He had to be kidding me. Oh no. He was dead serious.

After a lot of convincing, I finally agreed to researching a little more about what the Army would entail. We talked to other doctors who had joined, read every fine print, talked with our families, prayed, and made a huge decision. We joined.

Then 9/11 happened and things changed a little. We knew Joe wouldn't get deployed during school or residency. That was reassuring. We still have 2 years before it's even a possibility.

Then Joe chose to specialize in Ear, Nose and Throat Surgery. The Army hardly ever deploys ENT doctors. Another plus. And after we finish residency, we owe the Army 4 years of work. Where will that be? Who the heck knows?

I worry that we may end up in Louisiana or Korea for several years. But then, it could be Germany or the east coast. I would love that!

We would have never ever chosen to live in St. Louis or Washington. But you know what? We loved St. Louis. I hold such a special place in my heart for that city. And Washington? It couldn't be a better match for us. We feel like this is where we are suppose to be.

At times like this, when I start to think too much about our future, I am just reminded that we're happy as a family And we're living an adventure. It's a blessing to be able to live in different cultures and environments. Joe and I love our lives. We're looking forward to the future. But happy to not wish the present away. I actually can't wait to see where we are sent to next. But truth be told, it doesn't matter if the place sucks or not. We'll be together as a family, and it will be one adventure that only we'll be able to experience. That's exciting.

And honestly, I have no idea where I would choose to live if I had to choose today. I'm glad the Army is taking care of that for us for a few more years...even if it does mean feeling a little unsettled. That's the exciting part.

so embarrassed

After a day of not chirping, I hear the smoke alarm in the girls bedroom start to chirp again. It's not chirping randomly every now again like it was two days ago. This time, it's about every 30 seconds.

I pull the bathroom stool into the sleeping girls room and unscrew the smoke alarm.

I don't see a battery. I only see lots of wires.

Joe's not home. I call him and he tells me that I need to change the battery. I can't seem to see where a battery is. He tells me to mess with the wires to see if I can get it to stop.

Umm, that's not really helpful, seeing as I have an electrician for a dad and have no idea what black, red or yellow wires might do to me.

So, as far as I can tell, I have two options. One, let the stupid thing chirp all night and make me absolutely insane and extra cranky in the morning. Not to mention risking the girls waking up with an obnoxious headache and cranky as well. Or two, call the fire department and see if they are a little more helpful than my dear husband.

I opt for the fire department.

They tell me to change the battery.

I DON'T SEE A BATTERY PEOPLE!

The sweet man on the phone tells me, "We'll send the boys over."

"Are you sure? Is that allowed?"

"Sure ma'am, that's what we're here for" he says.

Great, sounds good to me. I really didn't want to live with option one.

In the mean time, Joe calls back to see if I figured anything out. I told him what the fire department had said. "No, I don't really think that's what they are there for-to change batteries in people's smoke alarms. They must be bored"

I was offended that he was insulting my soon to be knights in shining armour and told him that they are our cute little home town fire department and they just want to take care of the residents.

But after I hung up, I started to feel a little sheepish.

As I sat in my quiet house, I hear a fire truck. Are you kidding me? They brought the fire engine? My heart starts to pound. My hands start to sweat. I think I want to die.

After the gentle tap on the door, I'm reassured that it's not that big of a deal. But to my mortification, I unlock all four of my front door locks and see not one, not two, not three, not four, but five firemen standing before me.

FIVE!

That's when I wanted to die for real.

They showed me that my smoke alarm did, in fact, have a battery. And those five knights in shining armour were gone five minutes later.

I'm an idiot.

Two Things We Love

1. When Gwen says what she thinks she hears Gabriella say. Gwen puts her royal playmates on top of the castle, and she says, "Leggies and Junglemen."

2. When Gwen kisses her royal playmates.

Blah. Blah. Blah.

I can't really make excuses for my lack of motivation. But it just hasn't been there. If, by chance, I get a burst of energy, we're off to the park, or the library, or running errands. Blogging has suffered.

We had a great week last week. Of course, it started off right with a Monday holiday! Then Joe surprised me Wednesday and got off work early and topped it off with news that he didn't have to go in on Thursday...at all! Hallelujah!

So he made dinner Wednesday night. And cleaned the kitchen. And got the girls everything they needed. And got them ready for bed. And got up with them on Thursday morning. And made them breakfast. And gave them a bath. And told them to stop fighting. And changed diapers. And wrestled with them. And tickled them. And went to soccer practice. And...

And I relaxed. What a concept. Pregnant and relaxing. That's new to me this time around. And it was glorious!

We went to an apple orchard on Thursday and picked apples. I had big intentions of dipping them in caramel. I even bought snickers and twix to crush up and roll them in afterward. But I was so tired of having the fruit flies in my kitchen I just ditched the apples and ate the candy! I'd say I still won out on that one.

Friday we headed up to the BYU football fireside and that was fantastic. It was a real treat to hear the coach and a few of the players talk. I really enjoyed it. The next day we went to the BYU/Washington football game. Without the girls! Ten hours without children! Holy cats, that was one heck of a date! The game was awesome and so so fun! We won by blocking an extra point with 2 seconds left in the game. It was amazing. Joe may have even cried a little tear we were so excited! :)

But now, it's back to normal. Joe's on call this week, and I'm back to not relaxing. Just a bunch of ho-hum stuff going on. Oh, but I did get the ancient, super old-school retainer off my bottom teeth. That feels nice! No more metal rings on two of my bottom teeth. Gabriella was so sad when I told her they would be removing it. She said, "I don't want them to take it off, momma. It looks so pretty on your teeth." She thinks it's jewelry for my teeth. I think not. So I'm glad it's finally gone after 14 years!

Really though, motivation has got to be coming back soon. I'm working on it. I will be better. I can be not tired. I will try harder. I must prevail. Positive thinking will conquer all. I can do this!

Lucky 13

Week 13 has proven to be lucky for me...knock on wood.

I am feeling significantly better. Still tired as a dog, but that I can work through. It was impossible to work through the nausea.

But I'm feeling so much better in fact, the girls and I set out to pick blueberries last Friday. A quiet afternoon, just the three of us. I was remembering last year when we went as part of a group. Gwen was in the Bjorn and Gabriella seemed so little. Just interested in the "hunt".

This time, we made an afternoon of it...I have many hours of quality mothering to make up for. The last few weeks have been slow paced and I'm sure on the boring side for the girls.

Blueberries were a sure fire way to get me back in good standing with the two little blondies. Gabs grabbed her biggest Easter basket and was ready to find some serious blueberries. When we got there, I told her to look for the "blue" berries, even the purple or black ones. She went right to work pulling and searching for the perfect blueberries. A few cranberry colored blueberries made it into the bucket, but that's okay. Gwen was busy playing Charlie Brown's christmas. She was only interested in the poor green berries that had fallen on the ground. She was focused on gathering as many of those as she could. And trying to shove them in her mouth before I noticed and would sweep them out.

After awhile, I could hear Gwen ask Gabriella the same question Gabs kept asking me, "This one okay?" And Gabs would look at it and reply with the same inflection as I had, "Mmmm, it's a little red." Gwen would find another one, off the ground I'm sure, and ask again. Gabs mostly answered that they were too red, but once in a awhile she would say, "YES! Gwen! That one's perfect." It made me smile.

We picked and picked blueberries. Time passed and I was getting hungry, no real surprise there though. So I told the girls that we needed to get ready to go. Gabriella insisted that we needed to fill the gigantic bucket to the top line. "That will take too, too long" I told her. To which she replied, "We need to try mom. Try, try, try." Does that sound like a three year old taking motherly advice and turning it back around on her very own mom or what? But I told her I was hungry and we needed to head home. She said she wished we had a picnic. I agreed that would have been a great plan. Then she squealed in my most favorite voice of hers. The voice when she just realized something, or is really excited about something. She said high-pitched and obviously pleased with her epiphany, "I know! You can eat blueberries." What a brilliant idea Gabs!

We did head home though and prepped our blueberries for muffins the next morning. Unfortunately, we ended up with the biscuit type muffins instead of the cake like muffins. Where'd I go wrong?

I replayed the afternoon to Joe later that night and couldn't help but smile about our outing. So often I find myself calling friends to join us on a nice afternoon out. I get busy visiting and chatting with the ladies, that I miss out on the pure joy my girls are experiencing. I miss out on laughing with them and talking with them and helping them learn. It was rejuvenating to be with my little munchkins, just the three of us, and enjoy every single word they spoke. These are the days that I will remember from when they were little. These perfectly, happy, days that we were together, focused on only each other. And the blueberries of course.