about a boo

The drain of creation

2011-10-02T15:16:00.001-07:00

Does this space seem to have the disturbing stillness you would expect in an abandoned ghost town? It certainly feels that way lately.

I wish I could tell you that it is the result of an intentional move to keep my life more private. Or a decision to spend more time participating in constructive activities with little P. Or a million other morally upright and justifiable rationales.

Don't get me wrong: things have been good. Life keeps chugging along. Jesse amazes me with his hard work. Pen astounds (and at times frightens) me with her new skills, knowledge and talents.

But at the same time, things have just been a wee bit pathetic. The blog has been silent because I assumed no one would want to hear the thrilling tales of what episode of Friends I watched on syndicated television. Or maybe you don't want to know that I woke up from an unplanned, hour-long nap to find Pen marching around the house with Jesse's swimming suit on her head. Or perhaps I am just not proud to admit how many times my husband makes dinner, bathes the baby and puts her to bed because I just can't get off the couch. Did you really want to know about my latest vitamin regimen? I didn't think so.

But you see, it isn't so lame. I am just growing a new baby. And as my awesome husband is quick to remind me, "it takes a lot of energy to jumpstart a human life." So don't give up on me. We will make it through yet another blogging slump. Even if it takes until my due date in early May to get there...

(how we told the family à la Conan's "if they mated.")

In her pack

2011-08-22T20:52:00.001-07:00

Pen and I are gearing up for a ladies' trip tomorrow, which means I have spent the last two days doing laundry (can't leave the husband without a drawer full of clean underwear), packing and mentally preparing for a road trip with a toddler.

An essential part of every trip is Pen's little backpack with odds and ends to entertain her during the drive. I was going over what I packed for her with Jesse to ensure I hadn't left anything important, when he informed me that I needed to record this list for posterity.

So, we have:

Story books
Flap books
Books with pictures of things she is learning the words for
A tiny Teddy bear that she won't leave the house without
The burping Shrek toy she loves from a McDonald's happy meal circa 2008
A flashing music toy
A Pez dispenser
A mini football

So she has to be entertained for four hours, right?

My sounding board

2011-07-12T15:30:00.000-07:00

I was whining to Jesse about some silly "mean girls" stuff that has been bugging me lately.

"I don't even know why this bothers me so much," I said.

"It bothers you because you're a girl," he said. "And a nice one at that."

This made me feel better for a while. A few hours later, I got in bed with something else on my mind.

"Since you understand that I'm a girl, I have something else that is really bothering me lately that I need to get off my chest," I said.

He put down his iPhone, got very serious, and said, "OK, what is it?"

I breathed a heavy sigh.

"Colored denim is coming back."

"And?" He asks, waiting for more.

"And I kind of like it."

And just like the first time, getting it off my chest made me feel much better.

Photobooth with Dummies

2011-07-08T16:52:00.000-07:00

Penelope really likes to see herself on camera. It's one of her favorite things. So every now and then, I try to see if we can get a good photo of the two of us chumming around.

It's not as easy as you might think to get a photo of her smiling and me not looking like an idiot when the camera goes off.

But I think we might have gotten close to a good one.

Sometimes he changes my mind.

2011-06-30T19:46:00.001-07:00

It's been a perfect storm of mushy feelings for my husband lately.

First there was Father's Day, and Mr. Jones really deserved some appreciation for his awesome work as a daddy.

Then the wee one and I took off for a week while he finished up his first rotation (and we got to miss him like crazy).

Then he pulled yet another 15-hour day today. And I am yet again missing him like crazy.

Then that one doo-dad I have that lets me listen to my iPod in my car broke (ok, it broke a while ago, so this isn't quite in chronological order), so I was listening to this classic song that has sadly become a cliche.

And really, I have to tell you: When my heart was in the lost and found, this guy came to claim it. I will thank the Lord for that every day for the rest of my life.

Jesse was a real friend to me for years before we started really dating. He listened. He gave good advice -- even when it didn't benefit him. He let me cry on his shoulder. He cracked really great (and terrible) jokes at all the right times. And he never let me believe I was worth anything less than I really was. Then we started dating, and he's only gotten better.

I often tell Jesse that I want all girls. (Honestly, I kind of do.) But today I keep thinking about how great the world would be with another man like Jesse. A real man who loves God, is loyal to his family, and makes some lucky woman feel like the most loved creature on the planet every day.

Today I'm settled on it. What the world needs now is more men like mine. I guess I'd be OK if that meant that we had to have a few boys running around our house in the future.

The jury's still out

2011-06-05T18:12:00.001-07:00

One burning question in the Jones house tonight:

Who wore it better...

Mother

Or daughter?

You can't really blame me.

2011-06-03T19:34:00.000-07:00

Some days I have about a dozen things I want to blog about. And none of them involve the baby (yes yes, I know it gets old). But then we have dance parties when Jesse gets home from work.

Daddy picks the song.

Mom takes the bad video footage.

Penny busts a move.

And I completely forget that I had something else to say.

Video time: 11 seconds. She gets quite camera shy.

(These toddler dance moves are dedicated to my dear DEAR friend Bitty, with whom I have shared many a dance party.)

The three faces of Pen

2011-05-31T14:27:00.000-07:00

Growing up, whenever we would start to "ooh" and "ahh" over a sweet baby, my dad would always kill the mood by cooing, "They're false advertising..." And while I would always have a really intelligent response along the lines of "duh, Dad, I know babies are lots of work," there was still that portion of me that refused to believe that I would ever share such a cynical perspective of little ones.

Well, let's move forward about 15 years. We attend a church that is full of couples just like us: married and trying to get through school. I love it, I really do, and we make such great friends there. But often, when these newlyweds look at Penelope all dewy-eyed and swoon over what a beautiful, sweet child she is, I feel like I have a responsibility to clear up one major misconception: Life is not always this sweet with a 15-month-old.

You see, Penelope has three states of being.

She is very often delightful. This is the most common state for her -- cheerful, silly, curious. She is a complete ham, and people fall in love with it (myself included!).

And you may also find her being docile. Content to amuse or read to herself. These moments are treasured and increasingly rare.

But then there is the rest of the time. I often call it her demon-child state, but I suppose defiant is a more politically correct term. These are the times that I just dread what life will be like when she is actually two...

I couldn't bear to actually post a video of her having a meltdown, but here is a clip that cuts off right before she devolves into one.

Trying to bang(s) it out

2011-05-19T19:13:00.001-07:00

(such a lame title. please forgive. the rest of the post doesn't get much better.)

My hair has needed love. For (easily) weeks. Here is the conundrum: My bangs have really sucked. I've had an inner monologue focused around this every time I look in the mirror:

"Man, my hair looks haggard. I really need a haircut. Maybe just my bangs. Maybe I could call my friend XXX to see if she could just do my bangs. No, that's lame. If I'm going to get a haircut, I'm going to get a hair cut. But I'm style-lazy and growing my hair out, so that just seems like a waste of money. Just the bangs, then. But Jesse hates bangs. But I love bangs. Gah! I was 15 minutes behind when I started this monologue, what am I doing? Just do your makeup. Your hair will look better when your makeup is done... Nope, still crap. Just pin the bangs back."

Anyway (if you are still reading after that lengthy detour), I convinced myself that it wasn't so bad and went about my business. I was wrong.

Today I went to Target to pick up a few items, and the sweetest woman in the world was ringing me up when she kept mentioning the weather. I finally said something generic but polite like, "yeah, it sure is warm, but it is windy out there!"

She jumped on the chance and said, "I bet you wish you were a man with short hair today -- they sure don't have to worry about how bad the wind makes their hair look!"

She was sweet, so I brushed it off until I got out to the car and could look at my reflection in the window (yes, this is about the extent of my beauty routine these days). I couldn't blame her for the comment. My hair really looked awful. So I came home, realized that I own a pair of scissors and cut the bangs myself. (Unfortunately, I do this a lot. Like when I blogged about it four years ago.)

I have now added some new items to the list of things I want to do when Jesse graduates and starts working:

1. Cash his first check in quarters and build a reserve for a swimming pool built out of quarters à la Duck Tales.

2. Use said quarters to pay off student loans (it's going to be an Olympic-sized pool).

3. Yeah, yeah, house/cars/grown-up stuff.

4. Get a real hair style.

5. Take a class on how to take good photos of yourself (I believe Paris Hilton might be teaching one by that time).

I think that about covers it. (I don't dare share the 90 bajillion totally shallow, selfish things I think about wanting.) Until then, I might want to invest in some scissors that were purchased after 1996 and don't live in my home office...

Mommy, "Wow! You're a big girl now?"

2011-05-16T13:57:00.000-07:00

Author's note: Dad (that would be you, Bart), you don't want to read this. Trust me. There's nothing bad in here, but knowing your sensitivity to the mere mention of feminine products (code word: Rumplestiltskin), this post will be completely abhorrent to you.

There are tampons all over my house. Right now, there is an opened tampon on the desk next to me. There are a few wrappers at my feet. This is just a day in the life of a mom working from home with an incredibly active toddler left to do whatever keeps her from screaming and pulling at my shirt all day.

The tampon thing started innocently enough. Jesse and I were getting ready for the day at my parents' house, and Pen was curiously going through the drawers. Then she saw them. Brightly colored wrappers. Perfectly sized for her chubby fists. Plus daddy laughed when she showed him her new treasure. This is what 15-month-olds' dreams are made of.

One of the first things she discovered when we got back to our own home is that we have a much larger stash of these exciting items in our bathroom. And they are right where she can reach them! They are so easy to open, easy to cart around, and easy to stick in her mouth. I figured, "Well, what's the harm? I bought a lifetime supply at Costco, so it's not like a couple missing from the box will upset the balance of things."

But now I worry that her fascination may have reached a critical point. She wedged a box full of tampons into her diaper bag the other day. (Why? To share with others? To show all her friends that she is super mature? Because she is trying to be thoughtful for mommy?) And now you know that she really likes you if she kindly bestows you with one of the unwrapped gems.

Again, I worry I may not be preparing her for real-life social experiences. But they keep her occupied during a crazy part of the day, so I am willing to be a bit flexible on this whole "normal" social behavior.

I just ask that if you come to our house, please overlook the feminine products scattered about. And if some giggly little toddler hands you an unexpected tampon, I hope you know that it is a sign of affection. Unless you are my father. Then I just ask that you try not to let the experience scar you.

(But remember that you think she is really cute, too.)

Befuddlingly gregarious

2011-05-11T22:33:00.000-07:00

Today Penelope befriended our neighbor's dog. This isn't really a rare occurrence. Lately she is into making friends with everyone and everything. A child riding her bike down the street. A sweet old man in the grocery store. The waitress at the greasy truck stop diner we patronized yesterday. Her stuffed animals. Her reflection in the mirror. All are subject to the same sweet - if not overly enthusiastic - "HIIIIII!"

Generally she gets a chuckle, or an obligatory "hi" back in her direction. But every time it happens, she expresses such genuine delight in having made a new connection.

The other day, she took a break from making fish faces at the aquarium in the pediatricians' waiting room to engage in a spontaneous kiss-blowing session with another baby. It lasted for a solid five minutes.

At first I used to worry about teaching her to not bother other people and (more importantly) to be safe with strangers. But today, as I watched her chubby fingers flex back and forth in her awkward baby wave at our neighbor's pug, I didn't want any of that.

I guess the world will teach her soon enough to distrust. Right now I like that she is teaching me how to assume there is a friend in everyone.

(unrelated photo of this social butterfly earlier today. Has anyone ever had success with these strawberry planters? Things aren't looking very good so far...)

Overheard at our house

2011-04-20T21:51:00.000-07:00

(while making dinner with the TV on in the background)

Me: Ooh, they're doing a couples' edition of Wheel of Fortune! We would KILL at that!

Jesse: Yeah I would!

Stream of consciousness [OR] On BFFs

2011-04-17T20:11:00.000-07:00

I was wondering tonight, is it normal for a kitchen to exude the aroma of Clorox after cleaning up a standard chicken dinner? Or is this just something I do to appease the germaphobe I live with?

It doesn't really matter, I suppose, because I'll keep doing it. I guess that's just how we speak true love in these parts.

It's the kind of thing you do for a best friend. But now Jesse has a new best friend.

I like her, too, though. Tonight's epiphany: the bigger our family gets, the more best friends I develop.

I wouldn't change a thing about it.

There is a 'corporate ladder'

2011-04-12T18:38:00.000-07:00

And I am nowhere near it. But I did just get an office with a big window.

And a pack 'n play.

And onsite daycare. But I am also the daycare, so I guess it's not a huge perk. Except that I get to be a mom (and employee) all day. That part is thrilling (and exhausting...)

On the first day in my new work digs (aka my home), Penelope split her lip open because she insists on playing in this bizarre little basket for her toys, and I didn't have the time to focus on her as much as I should have. It wasn't a great omen.

But I remain optimistic that this new situation is the answer to many prayers. Did you know that sometimes the answers to my prayers might be good, but they're not easy? I'm still working out that second part with the big guy upstairs.

Wish me luck...

How to avoid being a bad parent

2011-03-28T20:05:00.000-07:00

Volume One.

Don't get sick. Don't get so sick that you let your child watch whatever captivates her on TV. Certainly don't let that thing she watches be Jurassic Park. Don't let her get comfortable in front of the tube.

Don't let her get a snack out of the diaper bag and say "wooooaahhh!!!" as she watches dinosaurs roaring, running and eating human beings off of toilets.

Don't let her practice new clawing skills on daddy's face when he volunteers to feed her.

Volume Two.

Don't let your toddler take a late nap. Don't forget to change her diaper before the nap. Don't let her sleep so late that she wakes up within minutes of when you need to leave the house for a birthday party. Don't even think about cursing under your breath as you realize you need to change her entire outfit because you forgot to do the diaper thing before the nap thing. Don't rush her through dinner because you spent so much time getting her dressed and then promise that she can "fill up on cupcakes at the birthday party to make up for this."

Don't let her attack her cupcake with the direct force equal to a jackhammer. Don't encourage the bad behavior so she goes on to steal her cousin's cupcake. And definitely don't laugh when she does something naughty (like pilfering cupcakes).

Got it?

OK but really, don't judge the awkward mom laugh and bad filming in this video.

Because it just seems wrong not to acknowledge it

2011-03-15T21:18:00.000-07:00

Cameron, if they let you read my blog in heaven (I’m sure they do), know that we love you so. After eight years, we miss you as much as ever. And we are looking forward to seeing you again.

Maybe all babies look alike, but I see a whole lot of Penelope in this photo. It could be that he is about her age in this picture. I think it's that mischievous little smile. And yes, my mom is a total babe.

The classic crazy eyes photo. Nice. (this photo has been cropped to protect those who may look particularly emaciated... like me.)

And, yet again, I resolve to get some new photos of you on my computer. I think I've been saying that on this blog for, what, three years now?

Yeah, you're going to want to make this sometime

2011-03-09T19:18:00.000-08:00

Really, you are going to want to make this for dinner sometime. It's simple. It requires very few ingredients. It's pretty quick. It's homey and delicious.

And I'm not really a meatball sandwich kind of girl.

You can thank me later. (You will want to thank Pioneer Woman first.)

Wishing and hoping

2011-03-04T09:06:00.001-08:00

Do you know any mythical creatures that grant you a new wardrobe when Spring finally decides to poke its head around Boise? Maybe the Easter Bunny?

No, he's obviously not concerned with fashion.

Lately, I can't stop drooling over the idea of a new wardrobe. Maybe it's because my body has comfortably settled into its non-pregnant state, but my pre-pregnancy clothes didn't get the memo. They're a bit stretched out and overworked. I got a new outfit for Christmas that I think I have worn about twice a week since then. It is also starting to look overworked at this point.

So I keep dreaming that maybe -- just maybe -- something like this will show up at my house when the sun starts shining.

(Maybe I will be able to tie a big knot on my head like this, too.)

But then again, maybe not.

I blame her father

2011-02-28T20:38:00.000-08:00

Most of the time, my baby (also known as my entire life, if you couldn't tell by this blog in the last year) is perfectly sweet. Seriously adorable.

four-second proof of sweetness.

But then she will have a night like tonight. Where she screams during her diaper change. Screams in her high chair through all of dinner and refuses to eat her food. Pees on the floor while I am getting her ready for the bath. Screams through the whole bath. Pees in my face (how is that physically possible?!?) while I'm trying to get her dressed. Screams through story time. Burps so hard she throws up her antibiotics all over me.

Then she calms down just enough to give me a cute kiss good night. (I think that's her evolutionary survival mechanism kicking in.)

And on nights like this, I am left wondering: Where did this sometimes-curly-haired little beast come from?

For all the naysayers...

2011-02-21T20:46:00.000-08:00

She had her cake

and then she ate it, too.

And then she was one

2011-02-17T19:14:00.001-08:00

Well, in her first year, this little darling had three homes, two crazy parents, and one sweet and silly personality to show off. I don't know how we ever felt anything close to complete without her. This was truly the most challenging, most frustrating, most exhausting and best year of my life.

Happy birthday, little one. Let's try celebrating without your miserable head cold this weekend, eh?

Sometimes the lemonade just makes itself

2011-02-12T21:20:00.001-08:00

I've been going through a small rough patch. As one of my favorites would say, "They weren't the kind of thing you would run home to mother about. But I cried into my pillow now and again."

Then things started to fall into place. Everyone recovered from the stomach flu (even though it took Penelope more than a week before she was back to herself). My dead phone was not only replaced; it was upgraded. We finally got a new dishwasher. (That's right, boys and girls, my phone and dishwasher were both MIA for more than a week. I now know how pioneers lived.)

And even though things really were getting lighter -- though not necessarily better (life is generally good to me, you see) -- I couldn't shake the one big downer in my life lately: My little girl turns one this week.

One year old.

I've been planning her birthday party, which has changed at least a dozen times, for weeks in an attempt to get excited about it. But mostly, I can't help but feel like she's not my baby any more. And I'm incredibly sad about that. One of the most profound and breathtaking experiences of my life has been watching Penelope grow and learn and really become herself. And I love that, don't get me wrong. It's just amazing how quickly I have begun to feel unnecessary in the process.

A little less than a year ago, I was craving the day that the baby wouldn't need me for just long enough that I could go to the bathroom. Now she gets into anything she wants and is totally capable of entertaining herself. If she could open a baby food jar and figure out how to put a diaper back on, she'd be good to go. (I might be slightly exaggerating here, but only just.)

Today as I was getting her up and ready after her nap, she gave me a wonderful hug. (seriously, Penelope is probably the best hugger I have ever met. If you don't believe me, come over to our house with a pillow pet, squishy ball, or bean bag and just see what happens.) Then, out of the blue -- brace yourselves -- she gave me a kiss. A real life kiss on my shoulder. It was perfect. Slightly awkward. Totally sincere. And I hope she always proudly tells people that she gave her first kiss to her mommy.

Don't worry. I won't be letting her forget any time soon. Because, you see, it made my week. It was even better than finally getting a dishwasher.

Or an iPhone. But that was also really nice.

How did women survive?

2011-01-28T15:37:00.000-08:00

In one of my classes for graduate school, my professor asked, "Do any of you ever feel like you were born in the wrong time?" As I listened to a few classmates drone on about how they were certain they should have been born (coincidentally) in the time period we were studying, I began to convince myself that I was, in fact born in the wrong time.

OK, sure, whenever I think about living in another time, I am quick to remember that I am blessed to have access to medical care in this time. That's a gimme. (And really, I couldn't be more grateful for it.) But this is one of those hypothetical questions where you can romanticize and demonize aspects of society as you see fit.

After that lovely day in class, I determined that I had, in fact, been born in the wrong time. I wanted to live in a time where people were recognized for beautiful words and great deeds. Where men not only covered their rear ends when they left the house, but they fretted over things like hats and pocket squares.

But as time goes on, I have started remembering things I love about living now, like running water, countless devices to keep babies happy (can you imagine having a newborn without a swing?!? I would die), etc., etc. I was beginning to feel better about living in 2008, 2009, 2010 and 2011, but then my dishwasher broke.

I am here to testify that after hours and hours of hand-scrubbing dishes, I was so born in the right time. I don't know if you know this, but living without a dishwasher is awful. Miserable. My two weeks of experience have made me a believer in the power of technology.

And now if you'll excuse me, I can hear story time happening in the living room without me. And that's where I really want to be right now.

Jones Family Finishing School

2011-01-19T21:05:00.000-08:00

Today a cute boy came over to play with Penelope. She wasn't happy with me when she woke up from her nap, and he ran in to say hi while she was still groggy. There was much baby screeching and shameful chubby finger pointing in my direction. (What was I thinking letting a boy see her when she was so unkempt?!?)

After she calmed down, however, she became a total love-struck idiot. Honestly, you would think the girl had never seen another child before. I tried to use it as a good learning opportunity (it's never too early to learn how to interact). Lesson points for the afternoon:

Don't just stare. Play it cool. Pick up a block or something.

OK, talking is good, but nonstop excited yelling is not.

Don't take things out of his mouth.

Seriously, when he starts backing away from you uncomfortably, stop trying to stroke his face. (I have a personal experience with odd face-stroking on a date. It's never a good move.)

It's not flattering to chase him around the apartment. When he hits a dead sprint, you may want to reconsider your approach.

Who knew how it took this much effort to teach social graces?

By the way, after he went home, she sat by the front door for a good ten minutes, staring at it, hoping he would return.

And now a post for Stephanie (and anyone else who is interested)

2011-01-18T18:27:00.001-08:00

Steph Face:

Penelope and I have been talking about you all day. Want to know why?

JEGGINGS!!!

what's that? oh yeah, she's just rocking some jeggings...

jeggings! (and a mess)

jeggings... in action.

jeggings.

Could I intrude on your life in a more shameless manner? Well, it was Penny's idea, so deal.

Yes, it really happened OR Adventures in cheesy jokes

2011-01-17T15:02:00.000-08:00

Jesse calls this look Penelope's "Beethoven" hair. Get it? Because she kind of looks like Beethoven.

(Just imagine her with a stern look -- come on, Ludwig, it can't be that bad -- and clothing on. Get it now? Great, let's keep going.)

Well, after a rather epic nap, she woke up with some serious Beethoven head and a ridiculously full diaper. I put her down on her changing pad and started to do my thing, but she saw something interesting across the room and made a move for it.

I don't know if you've tried this before, but it is really difficult to change the diaper of a baby who has turned over and made a break for it. I did the good mom thing and started dragging her back to the changing pad with her new toy, but she refused to get on her back.

So in utter frustration, I screeched (please tell me you see where this is going? I can't believe I didn't.), "ROLL OVER, BEETHOVEN!"

Ah yes, little girl. The age of being embarrassed by my lame jokes has just begun.

Around here, this is what romance looks like

2010-12-13T18:58:00.000-08:00

Last night the baby wouldn't sleep again. (Don't ask me why. I'm fresh out of ideas.) Jesse and I were rotating soothing duty around 2 a.m., and I got on the computer to check on some Christmas gift shipping statuses. Somehow I ended up reading our e-mails from five years ago.

Can you say nauseating? I mean, really. "I can't wait to see you for lunch in three minutes." "You just left and I already miss you." I got back in bed with the hubby and told him about a few. We laughed at how silly we were back then and giddily mocked ourselves.

A few minutes ago I found this photo on my camera. This was taken on our anniversary a few weeks ago. Right before this picture was taken, I was pouting in our bedroom about how there was too much to do with the baby and we wouldn't have time to go out. Jesse dear took action in his own hands.

I still remember the feeling in my stomach every time I got an e-mail from Jesse in 2005. I remember my heart fluttering every time he told me he wanted to marry me. Even better, I remember feeling like I would burst with joy the day he actually lived up to his word. Four years later, and he's still got it. And when I look at things like this, I'm pretty sure I've never found him more attractive.

Love (?) letter

2010-12-05T17:00:00.001-08:00

Yes, yes, I know I've done this before, but it's the only thing I keep thinking about. Besides, this blog seems to have been missing something (content?), so here we go.

If present me had written past me a letter a week ago, it might have looked like this.

Dear Boo:

Rest up. You're going to need it. I know that your darling daughter has finally resumed her normal (read: LENGTHY) sleeping patterns after the seventh circle of teething hell, but it's all about to change. Again.

While you are basking in the post-Thanksgiving joy at your parents' house, don't feel bad for not leaping out of bed at the little one's first squawk around 7:30. Don't feel guilty about sleeping in until -- GASP -- 8:30 on the weekends. Cherish her silence and ability to soothe herself.

You will start noticing her cold symptoms around the same time you plan on going back to Boise. In the middle of the week, as you frantically line up babysitters, align crazy work schedules, try getting your car out of the shop and pray for good roads in the midst of Blizzard Fest 2010, the wee one will have a runny nose.

"Sure," you will think, "A runny nose is nothing to worry about. I plan to head home to reunite with the hubby tomorrow, anyway." But no! You won't! Another blizzard will come to Boise! This is when you will be thankful for your tendency to overpack. Instead of braving the roads home, you will cry all the way out to your gracious sister-in-law's house the next morning before an unexpected day of work in the eastern side of the state. You will spend the rest of the day offering prayers of gratitude that you and baby are still alive.

Another day after that, your car will have a shiny new transmission and the roads will seem safe enough to travel.

Don't fall into a false sense of security when you arrive home. The baby may seem healthy. You might have a productive morning. You might even think you will be able to make sense of the huge mess that is your apartment. You may even have the hubris to assume that decorating is in the realm of possibility.

Then the baby will wake at night, and she will cry. No, no. She will scream. For hours she will scream. And you will be helpless to fix it. She won't have the classic signs of an ear infection. She won't have a fever. She won't tug on her ears. But something inside you will just know.

Don't be afraid to take her to the doctor on a Saturday. Don't listen to the snotty nurse who makes comments like, "Oh really? Not tugging on her ears? Hmm..." or "Wow, she doesn't feel warm AT ALL." When the doctor takes one look and says, "Oh, that's bad. That's definitely infected." And then finds infection in the other ear, you will try not to internally gloat to said nurse over your poor little one's ill health.

You really should take the time to rest and nurse your own cold. You should watch the Little Mermaid with the baby. You shouldn't be afraid to "spoil" the child by letting her sleep in your bed.

I hate to tell you this, but you will be exhausted. And you will have plenty of moments where you will feel like a deficient wife and mother. You won't get your Christmas gifts up. Both girls for whom you were making those great baby shower gifts will give birth this week, and you will feel like a failure for not having finished those projects. You will feel overwhelmed by a million other To-Dos that are pushed aside. You will spend much time acknowledging that you are a flat-out terrible single parent.

But you will learn that you can sing a furious baby to sleep. You will learn that you can survive on very little sleep. You will actually make it to the grocery store. You will retain the gratitude you felt during the Thanksgiving holiday through it all. You will travel safely on very treacherous roads. You will find, once again, that you and Jesse are a dynamic duo. And most importantly, my friend, you will survive. And I think (I can't tell you for sure just yet), you will be even stronger for it all.

But for now, you will just want to rest up. Best of luck,

Boo

In case we don't return...

2010-11-24T08:57:00.001-08:00

Remember us at our best.

And pray for us as we brave treacherous roads... Oh, and happy holidays, too.

Sweet way to start the day

2010-11-12T10:38:00.000-08:00

Maybe you're like me, and you woke up to a baby who mysteriously ended up in bed with you. You'll later learn that you brought her to bed around 1 a.m. because you didn't have the presence of mind to get her to go back to sleep in her own bed. Anyway, you wake up because she's pulling your hair, clawing your face and kicking you in the back. So you bring her out into the living room and decide to set her down with some toys so you can use the restroom. You think you're safe.

You forget your husband left half of a Twix bar on top of the end table in the living room.

You come back out to see her relishing every moment with this candy bar. You remember all the work you and your husband have put into keeping foods like this out of the baby's mouth. But then you see the look of pure joy on her face. And you laugh.

And though she pretends to feel guilty for the camera, you know that your little family's battle between sugar and sanity has begun.

And I'm back in the game...

2010-11-08T16:17:00.001-08:00

WE HAVE INTERNET!!! Can you hear the angels singing? Can you hear the children rejoicing? Oh so much has happened, and I have had virtually no means of communicating.

But to tide you over, here's this little nugget. Our little McNugget in her Halloween costume.

(But now I'm wishing I'd dressed her up as a McNugget. How cute would that be?)

Maturation, or something like it

2010-10-04T19:41:00.000-07:00

So, I like to think we've been doing some growing up lately. And not just Penelope, though she has hit some milestones. What's that? You're DYING to hear all about them? OK, well, if you're going to force me.

She has started enunciating her baby language. She forms actual syllables, and we can now officially claim to have heard her say "dada" and "mama," though she certainly didn't say them in any particular context. (Except for mama. Obviously she says that with more love than you could fathom.) She has figured out how to feed herself the little baby snacks. And she's only choked on one -- and I didn't completely pee my pants when it happened. She seems to process when we're frustrated or upset with her, and it makes me rethink my knee-jerk response to a lot of things.

She got her first balloon. Had we let her, I'm pretty sure she would have taken it to bed with her and lovingly stroked it all night à la Gollum and The Precious.

She also got her first glamour shot taken. It makes me want to die. In a great way.

It just seems like every day she gets exponentially older, more intelligent, more curious, more talented, more entertaining, and I just want to eat every moment up.

But, as I mentioned, this post isn't about her. It's mostly about me. Me trying to start some family traditions. Like family photos, even when I feel chubby chubby chubby. I know I will want to look back and see what our little family was like, and how genuinely happy we were even though we had little more than each other. Probably because we had little more than each other.

We're trying to make grown up decisions, like waiting to buy a house until it's the right time for us. Even though we want one so badly, and the market is right, and technically we probably could pull it off -- though it would cause so much stress financially -- yadda, yadda, yadda. We decided to follow the counsel that sometimes saying I love you is saying "we can't afford it."

I'm letting go. I've decided to stop blaming my frustration and shortcomings on others for things that happened aeons ago. I'm forgiving. I'm focusing inward. I don't like everything I see there, but it's getting better.

And you know what I'm learning in all of this growing up I'm trying to do? Sometimes growing up really sucks.

But I know I'm a better person for it. I know my marriage is stronger for it. And I know I'll be a better mother for it. And right now, that's better than anything. Even a house (she said reassuringly to herself). Yes, even a house.

Defiance: A genetic defect?

2010-09-29T19:09:00.000-07:00

I still remember the day I first felt truly defiant. (Well, the first day I can remember, of course.) I must have been, oh, six, and I had watched entirely too many dramatic stories on television of young runaways. After my mother delivered what I perceived to be a vicious injustice, I stormed off to my room, packed a few necessary belongings into my baby blanket, searched the room for a toy broom to tie the package onto all hobo-style, and marched back to the front door. I looked up at the kitchen only to see my mom busily doing the dishes.

Who did she think she was? A mother of five? (Or maybe it was six by then, the timeframe really is blurry.) Giving it an Oscar-worthy, "goodbye-cruel-world" performance, I painfully sighed, "I'll see you in twenty years."

She turned off the sink and looked at me. Immediately I understood this to mean that she felt all the pain that would exist in her life without me. I felt her begging me to stay and remain the vital part of our family that I was. I felt her apologizing. Then she spoke.

"Did you say something?"

"Yes mom," I thought, "your apology is acceptable. Thank you for understanding your error. I would like to spend the night in my warm bed now."

But all I sighed was, "no."

I don't know why this story has been running through my head lately. Perhaps it's because Penelope had her first truly defiant moment the other night: refusing to swallow her food.

Like mother, like daughter.

Note: Please ignore the obviously bad parenting and filming in this video. Also, did you notice how Jesse is all worried she might be sick, and I immediately just wanted it on film? Man, he really is a better parent than I am.

The best part of waking up

2010-09-19T17:01:00.000-07:00

In case you don't know yet, naps are heaven sent. Of course I enjoy my hours of alone time (aka the only time I have to clean up before the next wave of crazy starts), but what's even better is that the baby always wakes up a different -- generally happier -- beast than she was when I put her down.

If you are in our house, you will most likely find her like this after a nap. I guarantee that you cannot stay frustrated when you walk in to the little face.

And while I would love to tell you that Penelope always wakes up all smiles and sunshine, that really isn't true. Sometimes she wakes up like this. Congested, runny nose, exhausted, miserable.

That's what happened in our house this week. But we spent the whole day like two little slugs, watching Gilmore Girls (the ultimate sick day TV programming. Penelope would back me up on this one), manually removing snot from a baby's nose, and comforting said child from the agony of her first head cold.

Sometimes, however, you put your child down for a nap just to get a break from her cranky, teething attitude. And after deciding you are slightly less exasperated, you might peek in to see her peeking right back at you.

And then you immediately take a photo to document her beautiful, raw silliness.

No matter what, it truly is the beginning to a new day (or afternoon, or two hours until the next nap).

NOW FOR SOMETHING ENTIRELY DIFFERENT

husband: What is that?

me: It's the Halloween costume I got for Penelope.

husband: Yeah, but what IS it?

me: It's a peacock.

husband: That's NOT a peacock.

me: Why not?

husband: When have you ever seen a peacock with a human face peeking out of its neck? It's terrifying!!!

Conclusion: Our difference of opinion wasn't resolved. However, we did agree on a new costume for the baby. Pictured peacock costume has been returned to the store. (But I still claim it is awesome.)

Before the opportunity slips through my fingers

2010-08-25T19:29:00.001-07:00

Jesse has started school again. That means he is now MORE than half-way through his doctorate of pharmacy program. Let's each take a minute to reflect on that accomplishment.

I'm trying to stay positive about this back-to-school business because this means that I now hardly see Jesse. Even worse, I mean ALMOST as bad, I never get to see the computer. Since my computer is still patiently waiting to be exhumed from its box out in the garage, we have been sharing Jesse's laptop since our move to Boise. But with Jesse taking his computer to school all the time, "sharing" might be an overstatement of my relationship with the computer.

Except for tonight. Tonight Jesse is at work. And the baby decided to be a little beast and barely nap this afternoon, so she was down by 7:30.

So, it was either blog or watch "America's Got Talent." Come on, who wouldn't choose blogging?

Want a more interesting post? Pray that the bank accepts our counteroffer on a little home so I can unpack the femputer and keep my blogging skills fresh. You know you want to.

Half Birthdays or Carrying on the Tradition

2010-08-16T16:04:00.000-07:00

Each February 17, I would get excited to remind everyone that it was my HALF BIRTHDAY! Well, Penelope was this close to being born on my half birthday. Luckily, she had the decency to come a early and save the day for me.

Well, today is Penelope's HALF BIRTHDAY. If you can believe it. I don't want to drone on and on about everything she does (because I know that I'm just about the only one that cares), but in six short months, she has become one of my best friends. And the best thing I've ever done.

We love you, Littles.

Collecting no moss (I hope)

2010-08-02T20:06:00.000-07:00

Rollin', rollin', rollin'

That's all little Penelope is doing these days. First she learned how to roll from her belly, onto her left side, onto her back. Then she learned how to roll from her back, onto her right side, onto her belly again.

Folks, this is what we call a log roll. And this is what my daughter does all.day.long. Until she would get in situations like this.

We thought things were under control. She would get caught under a chair, against the wall, etc., and then she would scream. But then she started getting curious. And then her fingers were all over everything.

We soon realized that our current abode is NOT baby-proofed, and we fear we are eerily close to the little one sticking her fingers in something hazardous. (But we may just be every bit the part of paranoid, first-time parents my older siblings try to explain we are.) Instead of buying the $5 plastic things you stick in outlets that save your child from electrocution, this was just the needle on boo's back that convinced me: We need our own place.

It's not that we aren't over-the-moon-grateful for the current space. With my parents' generosity, the price for staying in their condo is more than right. But we hate the idea of getting too comfortable. Of overstaying our welcome. Of never breaking out the crib we bought for our baby about a year ago. Of having our new couch stay wrapped in plastic in the garage forever. Of spending half of my child's early years driving in the car between our home, my sister's home, and jesse's and my respective places of work.

So we hope to roll on. We've put in an offer to buy (yes, BUY) a home. But it's a short-sale, and the pace seems to be slower than the crawl Penelope is now working on. So we may end up renting after all. Until then, I am learning more every day that home is where my heart is. And even though all of my things are in a combination of storage units, garages, and boxes around the house; I'm happy to be making our memories here.

But a girl can dream...

Right?

jersey shore takes boise

2010-07-30T10:09:00.000-07:00

why not? i've heard rumor that the new season is in miami.

(à la melissa, the video is but 6 seconds)

in short

2010-07-22T17:54:00.000-07:00

any idea why i sound like shakira when i sing along to this?

probably for the same reason i am terrible at this blogging thing: too much time in the car.

i get to spend about six solid hours in transport tomorrow, but it will all be worth it: time with the auntie, time with the besties and a potential stop at ikea. oh utah, here we come!

capital punishment

2010-06-28T21:01:00.000-07:00

i learned this month that it drives jesse crazy when people don't capitalize things. he hinted at it when he mentioned my blog the other day. "there seems to be a wave of girls who don't capitalize things or punctuate as a 'style,'" he said disdainfully.

don't get me wrong, there is certainly an important function that capitalization serves. and at work, i am impeccable about capitalizing things.

I swear I know how to do it.

i could pretend that i don't do it here because of some sort of rebellious spirit, but i'm really just lazy. and really, if it bothers the husband that much, perhaps i will start writing properly on this-here forum.

now, i don't mention this because i think you are all-consumed with whether or not i should capitalize. in fact, the great question ("to capitalize, or not to capitalize") doesn't phase me.

what i find interesting is that i thought we had reached a point where i understood everything about my husband. but for three-and-a-half years of our marriage and this blog, i had never heard of this pet-peeve.

and i kind of like that i learned something new about him. So honey, I promise I will try.

working overtime

2010-06-23T20:47:00.000-07:00

it's been a lot of hard work around here.

learning how to play by ourselves.

holding back the excitement at a bestie's wedding.

filling out endless paperwork to finally start a new job. (hooray, husband!)

growing up to be of average height (around 50th percentile), slightly above average weight (97th percentile) and stellar intelligence (demonstrated by head circumference that is just off the charts) at just four months.

gearing up to (hopefully) move for the seventh time during our three-and-a-half years of wedded bliss.

trying to roll over.

and finally doing it for the first time.

holding back the urge to post that picture of the baby's plumber's crack for almost two weeks.

and learning how to get rid of our old blog template that is apparently hardwired to this blog. you will notice that i need to do a lot more hard work around here to finish that one. ideas?!?

until then, we'll just keep chipping away at the important things. like getting dressed in the morning.

for father's day: reflections a day or so late

2010-06-21T21:04:00.000-07:00

the summer after i graduated from high school, i dated a boy for about half a minute. he was handsome, funny, crazy smart and completely inspiring. one night we sat on my parents' trampoline and he told me all about the happenings at his job -- working at the movie theater.

a little boy got lost and couldn't find his parents. he approached the strapping at-the-moment boyfriend and asked him for help. said hunk proceeded to take the chap up on his shoulders and walk him around the theater while they searched for his parents. he kept the kid laughing until the parents were located. all was well. and he described all the events like they were truly blissful.

so things didn't work out between us at the time, but we stayed friends. and he kept on being wonderful with children. he gave my nephews the best birthday presents and piggy back rides. they adored him and so did i. and i knew i wanted to marry someone like that. someone who, like my daddy, understood the importance and honor of being a good father.

luckily for me, i did. i really think my husband is one of those men that was born to be a father.

don't you? happy father's day to you men out there.

(p.s. in case you didn't catch it, jesse was aforementioned summer boyfriend. clear now?)

snapshots (sort of)

2010-06-08T20:10:00.001-07:00

i blame the rain

2010-05-30T19:37:00.000-07:00

thank goodness we have a holiday tomorrow.

i know, i know

2010-05-27T20:29:00.000-07:00

i'm not a great blogger. the posts are becoming increasingly less frequent and interesting.

you just have to accept that.

but i feel you might take pity on me for some of the following reasons:

i am working full time these days. and it is awful. luckily, i have a very attractive live-in nanny. (i don't want to get too descriptive, but i think he might kiss me if i play my cards right.)
penelope is getting over her first sickness. this is terrible in itself, but even worse knowing that jesse is the one taking care of her all day while i am at work. at the height of the illness, i came home at lunch for some hardcore snuggling. she cried until i gave her back to jesse. i might have cried a little on my way back to work.
we are moving to boise next weekend (hooray!)
we are moving next weekend (ugh... packing...)
i am throwing a bridal shower for the sweetest libby in the whole wide world (hooray!)
i am throwing a bridal shower the same weekend i am moving (ugh... what was i thinking? last time i checked, i do make my own social schedule.)
i am changing my work location (see boise note) and cutting my hours, but still retaining about the same work load. i will be overwhelmed, but now i will only overwhelmed for five hours a day at work, and the rest of the time at home with the little one.

isn't this just how life seems to go? busy, busy, busy. i am seriously craving a nap. and some downtime with emily dickinson.

p.s. did i mention it has been snowing here? SNOWING in late may. at this rate, this little girl is going to outgrow all her summer clothes before the sun comes out.

mothering through the generations

2010-05-10T19:51:00.001-07:00

i am learning how to be a mother. unfortunately, there was no specialized training to prepare me for this venture (though aunthood certainly helped). this is unfortunate, because sometimes i think i make a better student than functioning adult.

yesterday, i was reminded that i come from a line of wonderful mothers. and not to be too biased, but i really think i am learning from the best.

(can you believe that my sweet mother is my age in this picture? what lovely young beauty! and how precious is little cameron?!?)

and sure, i may have accidentally dropped the remote on my baby's head while nursing her. or maybe i did call her a poo face angrily and (kind of ) meant it because she wouldn't stop crying. the good news is that while i am learning on the job, i get to learn on the best.

happy mothers' day to mothers (and aunts and sisters and friends and inspiring women) past, present and future.

captain's log

2010-05-03T20:33:00.000-07:00

sad today that the baby is officially a size bigger than she used to be. car seat straps, jacket, jammies, everything.

even sadder that i am still at least two sizes bigger than i used to be.

on a much more important matter, i am finding at least twice as much snuggle time in my daily life.

it's totally worth it.

evensong

2010-04-20T20:12:00.000-07:00

we have started whispering all the time to each other when the baby is asleep. even when we are in a completely different part of the house where she couldn't possibly hear us.

i am even typing this quietly.

you see, when your two-month-old daughter no longer fits into her 0-3 months clothes and is in the 96th percentile weight range for her age, you fear what happens when you wake a sleeping (though admittedly adorable) mini-giant.

(no, honey, this isn't the same photo i promised you i wouldn't put on my blog. she looks really terrifying/hilarious in that one, but i picked this much more tame version. i promise.)

will the real penelope please spit up?

2010-04-13T14:23:00.000-07:00

let's clear the air

there has been some recent speculation that this lovely lady

(penelope A)

was named after this lovely lady.

(penelope B)

and while i can't deny that i utterly adore both of them, the fact is that they are both named after this lovely lady.

(penelope classic)

think about it -- she faithfully waits for odysseus AND she's a pretty awesome weaver. in fact, penelope means weaver (according to some weird baby name sites, it also means duck. which i guess is also awesome).

the weaving thing might seem silly, but did you know that there is a long, long literary history behind the use of weaving as a metaphor for poetry? it's true. i actually wrote a 20-page essay about it in graduate school (wordsworth was quite the fan of this metaphor). in short, the weaver is the first poet -- weaving individual strands/words together to craft a beautiful final product.

and my own little penelope is the result of weaving together so many of my own tender life experiences. she is the product of so many prayers, hopes, agonizing workouts to keep my blood sugars in line, tears, negative pregnancy tests, tears, prayers, all-night talks with jesse, and (did i mention this already?) more prayers. and she's more beautiful and precious than i could have ever imagined. and i can't wait to see how her individual life experiences weave together and create a beautiful woman.

now that we have cleared that up, onto some adorable displays of babiness from the littlest penelope (mostly so i have something to watch at work tomorrow when i am missing her terribly.)

and p.s. my first day back at work today was fine, as any sane person would have guessed. the crazy woman writing this post is ridiculously relieved.

and p.p.s. how awesome was last week's episode of LOST? i have been dying to say something on here about it. let's just say that penelope and desmond melt my heart. and i can't wait for tonight's episode.

you'll be relieved to know

2010-04-05T14:41:00.000-07:00

my body has been slowly bouncing back. don't get me wrong, i still have quite a bit of pregnancy weight to go, but my feet and face have returned to normal size. i'm quite glad as i had nearly forgotten what my ankles looked like.

the easter bunny did, in fact, visit our home. sure, we don't have space for anything in this house, but he somehow managed to squeeze his fluffy behind into the house to deliver penny's goods. however, the easter bunny was much lazier this year than i remember, because he brought the whole family's goodies in one basket. (i guess he didn't want to go digging through boxes in the basement to find everyone's basket...)

but don't worry. the little one was quite content to just play with her own bunny on easter morning.

we even got a photo of penelope enjoying easter ham in her easter dress with her easter papa.

should you need to take nail polish out of your mom's carpet after you indulge yourself with a home-grown pedicure during general conference, i have the answer: shaving cream. i kid you not. it worked like a charm. however, perhaps the best way to ensure your carpets are nail-polish-free is to check the lid of the bottle before moving it, thereby preventing spills in the first place. you know, the best defense is a good offense.

(see above foot photo for reference on the color of aforementioned nail polish)

penelope was blessed in church last week. i have tried to write about seven posts about that wonderful experience, but they have all been a bit too personal/emotional. i mean, with a little face and spirit this beautiful in our home, can you really blame me for getting choked up? so, i will try to keep the wonderful feelings from that day in a more private place and share a photo instead.

i am going back to work in eight days. if you are, in fact, relieved to know this, please let me know how we can somehow swap our emotions. at first, i was thrilled to have something to do every day and a reason to shower regularly. but now that i have considered the fact that penelope will be going somewhere else, and i will be missing every detail of her life, i am terrified and anxiety-ridden at the thought of work. how does one cope with this?

until i figure it out, i'll be relieved that i have such a blissful life for today.

merry unbirthday, penelope!

2010-03-17T19:40:00.000-07:00

the littlest member of our family turned one month old this week. (i can't believe it!)

she wanted to share some of her favorite things about her life with everyone.

like her stylish wardrobe.

and bath time.

and quality nap time with daddy.

(for your sake, her two all-time favorite activities are not pictured: nursing and pooping.)

the end.

ides of march comes again

2010-03-15T18:45:00.001-07:00

today we have been thinking about penelope's uncle cameron. seven years ago today we lost him. i know he is doing well, and i have a feeling that he has been keeping a special eye on penelope. (he loves babies, you know.)

(which seems fitting since he was once a baby, too)

rather than focus on the loss of my ridiculous, hilarious, head-strong brother, i have been trying to remember all the tender mercies the lord has given me as a result of this experience. a greater sense of compassion for those who experience loss. an even more tender heart. a heightened appreciation for my family. a wonderful husband who brought me home a candy bar as my "ides of march" treat. an intense gratitude for eternal families.

most importantly, i have received (and continue to receive) a deep appreciation for the Savior.

i'm not feeling particularly articulate today (i am going to blame this on the new mom brain that has replaced my old thinking unit), so i will just share a quote that i have learned to be so very true (thanks, aunt lynda, for bringing it to my attention again!)

"The Lord compensates the faithful for every loss. That which is taken away from those who love the Lord will be added unto them in His own way. While it may not come at the time we desire, the faithful will know that every tear today will eventually be returned a hundredfold with tears of rejoicing and gratitude."

--Joseph B. Wirthlin.

we love and miss you, cameron. in your honor, i will try not to take myself too seriously this week and down a couple of root beers, too. but i don't plan on ordering the shrimp and steak combo for breakfast. that is just going a little too far.

(i also resolve to get more pictures of cameron on my computer...)

maternal ramblings: volume I

2010-03-04T10:45:00.001-08:00

my mom always told me that being a mother is the best way to learn charity. since she is an expert on this mothering business, i knew she was on to something. but for some reason, i blocked out the "learn" portion of this statement, and assumed that charity just comes innately the moment a baby is born.

penelope's delivery was actually better than i had expected. i spent so much time psyching myself out over the terror of a c-section that i had made it out to be much worse than it was. sure, being paralyzed, mostly naked and strapped to a table in a room full of strangers is a bit unsettling. but as soon as jesse got to come into the room with me, it was one of the most thrilling experiences of my life. (this was the first of a million times i have asked myself how in the world some people do this on their own.) i will never forget the doctor's remarks during the surgery "wow, that is a lot of hair." "that is a really big baby." "how big of an incision do you think you need to make to get a baby that big out? AS BIG AS I JUST MADE IT!" (i imagine he was mentally high-fiving and chest-bumping his surgical team during the final comment.)

when i saw penelope's little face, i started laughing and crying at the same time. and the weirdest thing? i snorted. twice. i never snort. i have never felt so overwhelmed with joy in my life.

and while overall the experience has been 90 percent bliss, it's been difficult. people tried to warn me that the first few weeks of having a baby are hard. and i (mostly) believed them. but i had no clue.

none.

so far, i spend much of my time at home feeling like my life is oddly akin to groundhog day. the same thing over and over again. maddening. exhausting. desperately searching for some kind of relief. a combination of constant feedings, diaper changings, need to rest and recover and nearly total isolation (in an attempt to avoid exposing the baby to the joy of RSV season) isn't always a flattering fit for me. i have been known to devolve into what jesse and i refer to as "that crazy lady" that takes over my body.

luckily, i have received such thoughtfulness from other people. meals, visits, phone calls, gifts. it's been unreal. my dear sister even spent an entire afternoon in my bed with me after i passed out and was instructed by the husband that i wouldn't be going anywhere that day.

these acts of charity have begun to show me what it means to be a mother. selfless, patient and loving to no end. the selfless and patient part are still slow coming. but when i look at this little thing, the loving portion is completely effortless.

here's to working toward the rest of the combination.

to tide you over

2010-02-26T13:30:00.001-08:00

until i can sit down long enough to get some thoughts pulled together, here are some photos of little penelope and her incredibly handsome, wonderful father (aka the parent she actually resembles).

we love you all!

so happy to introduce

2010-02-17T19:47:00.000-08:00

penelope ann

9 pounds 11 ounces 20.5 inches

she is so, so, so precious.

our little family is doing very well. more details to come when i get released from the hospital.

tuesday i'm in love

2010-02-12T17:13:00.000-08:00

so, i have a c-section scheduled for tuesday.

the thought of delivery terrified me. now that the doctor wants to do a c-section, i am scared of that too.

awesome.

for now, i will focus on the fact that i can't wait to meet this little thing.

a response to your query

2010-02-05T16:19:00.000-08:00

recalling the blog author's earlier days, you may have recently asked yourself, "what has this little thing been up to lately?"

well, she has been

getting more not-so-little every day

attending birthing class with the husband ("they should call it the 'really, you will just be terrified after we show you all these gross videos' seminar," harrumphs the little one.)

(they call this the empathy belly.)

getting her weekly ultrasounds and semiweekly non-stress tests

(we call this the baby's dinosaur face.)

wondering where her ankles, feet and toenail polish have gone

wondering where her mind has gone

having a few emotional breakdowns

letting her house become a huge mess

breaking her promise to no longer post photos of her pregnant self

and wondering if the doctor will tell her on monday that the baby can come out next week ("come on!" cries the little one. "she is 37 weeks! that's full term! and she was estimated at 7 pounds 8 ounces at the last ultrasound!")

and now you might wonder, "but really, after that recap, what doctor in his right mind would let this woman care for an infant?"

beats me.

marriage scene

2010-01-20T19:45:00.000-08:00

setting: jones home, 9:40 p.m. by lamplight, mr. jones is cutting some excess athletic tape holding one of the missus's medical devices onto her unreachable back. both characters are obviously fatigued -- the wife from a day of being enormously pregnant, the husband from a day of lectures, labs (which frequently involve weird procedures on rats) and bus-ride commuting. the process is slow-going, and the mister has intense concentration wielding nose hair trimmers closer to his wife's skin than she is comfortable.

missus: be careful. you're going to snip me.

mister: i'm not going to snip you.

missus: well, could you watch it? you're taking a long time and making me nervous.

(period of silence)

missus: (obviously getting increasingly exhausted) seriously, be careful!

mister: honey, i am not going to snip you. PLEASE, (making grandiose gesture with both arms) these hands have removed rat uteruses.

(hysterical laughter ensues.)

end scene.

wishing and hoping

2010-01-10T20:28:00.001-08:00

at a recent appointment, my doctor told me i only have to make it three more weeks before the baby is considered full term. since they are worried she will get too big with my diabetes, it sounds like they won't be letting her stay in there much past that. weekly ultrasounds and non-stress tests are doing all the hard work to configure that business.

on my end, i have decided i am officially done photographing my pregnant self after taking this dandy photo.

not seen in this photo: aching back, enormously swollen feet and ankles, general discomfort, lack of sleep, and constant angst about little one growing too big/breathing right/coming out too early/staying in too long/terror of delivery. but i know that she is the answer to so many of our prayers, and i feel so at peace about everything -- and i know that is the answer to so many of your prayers. thank you for that.

i hope next time you see my face it will be glowing with the excitement of the safe arrival of little one (aka the only thing getting cuter in this pregnancy).

some resolutions

2010-01-03T17:13:00.000-08:00

with the impending arrival of the little one, i have spent a good deal of time pondering what kind of mother/wife/homemaker (i used to hate that word, but now i kind of like the idea of "making" home) i will be.

during my ten-day break from work, i have had some time to try on different roles.

after learning that the little one is getting big ahead of schedule (something the doctors had kept telling me would happen but i kept pretending might not happen), i frantically set into "nesting" mode. as the husband and i cleaned out space for the baby's dresser and frantically tried to do all necessary preparations (geez louise, she's probably coming early, but it's not tomorrow), i felt like a question and answer segment out of the terribly cheesy what to expect when you're expecting.

after being disgustingly pampered with a luxurious christmas, wonderful baby shower, and pedicure (thanks, daddy!), i couldn't help but feel like one of those women who regularly takes the time to take care of herself.

as i spent most of yesterday on my hands and knees scrubbing the bathroom floor (why did i not do this before i was eight months pregnant?) i couldn't help but feel a closeness with those hardworking, under-appreciated women of the 1950s. barefoot and pregnant, i even made dinner.

as i embroidered a burp cloth while watching lost in austen (which really is as terrible and guilty a pleasure as you could imagine a story about a pride & prejudice fan having a door between her bathroom and the novel could be), i felt a sense of connection to the women doing their needlework.

and as i punched my husband in the arm for the 275th time this week for making a comment about how the baby is getting my tiny legs and huge belly, i felt like myself.

and you know what? this year i resolve to be myself more often. it's really a refreshing pace.

i also resolve to take more pictures.

happy 2010, everyone.

feminine taming of the boo

2009-12-22T21:25:00.000-08:00

ever wonder what happened to all that knowledge women during the victorian period must have done something with? (other than gossiping and setting up fortuitous marriages, of course.)

i just discovered it: embroidery. i mentioned my passing interest in embroidery to my mother in law, who just happened to have a copy of the complete encyclopedia of stitchery that she has given me on loan. i have decided i am going to give it a try. i tell you only because i know you will hold this confession in the strictest confidence. and you (hopefully) won't laugh at me. and you will hold me accountable to actually make something.

and because patterns like these little guys make me really excited.

pattern found here.

things bright and beautiful

2009-12-13T20:07:00.001-08:00

earning my cake

2009-12-10T18:09:00.001-08:00

birthdays had a very specific tradition growing up in the davis household. we would all gather together with cake, presents and family to honor the day's special someone. and while we all stared at the lovely, sweet cake, my parents would spend about thirty minutes sharing all of their loving memories of their child. (but when you are waiting to consume cake, it was actually about 290 minutes.) when they were done with their sweet words, we went around in the circle and shared a memory or two of the honoree.

when it got to us kids, our memories were generally quite brief in an attempt to expedite the period before cake consumption. you would usually hear "yeah, so, you're usually pretty nice i guess. and i remember one time you got mad at me for something. but i got over it, because i love you. next?"

this took about 400 cake-time minutes (six kids, you know). when it got to my grandparents, it increased to about 3,000 cake-time minutes. (yep, that's 50 hours. can you tell a pregnant diabetic is writing today's post?) after a total of 3,690 cake-time minutes, we would finally open gifts (add another 70 of those minutes) and eat CAKE.

well, as we have all sort of grown up and kind of moved on, we don't do this very much anymore.

today, my brother cameron would have turned 30 years old (what an old man!) and i have been thinking about him a lot this week. and missing him. and dreading today.

but i was blessed to have a wonderful and thankful attitude today. so i will share my memory (if you have made it this far, you have already lived through 45 cake minutes. nice work.)

exhibit a: cameron looking suspiciously sweet with jil circa 1984.

cameron used to look like a sweet, unsuspecting child. but i always knew he was something more than that. something much darker. something that fed my barbie dolls to our mean dog. something that perfected the art of the "indian burn." something that paraded jil's new supergirl underwear in front of all his friends. something that had a brain too quick and a tongue too sharp for my own good.

he kept us all on our toes. it was wonderful.

one time, my oldest brother tried explaining who satan was -- a deeply perplexing concept to five-year-old boo. after a frustrating period of time, he finally blurted, "he's just the meanest, worst person you can imagine." stunned, i replied, "what?!? worse than CAMERON?" it resonated. but i was still recruited to be the president of The Official Cameron Fan Club during one long road trip. it is still an office i wish i could put on my resume as one of my greatest achievements.

over time, cameron grew up to be a bigger child who was a little worse at hiding how soft his heart was. he made me lunch (sugar cookies and sausage) when my parents were out of town. he gave my friends nicknames. he booby-trapped my door a little less. he stopped being the enemy and became my ally.

exhibit b: cameron looking deceivingly tough with his three sisters circa 1998.

the last thanksgiving we spent together, cameron and i had been watching an inappropriate amount of celebrity gossip television. we got endless entertainment from the fact that a recently separated britney spears and justin timberlake had a dance off at a local club. later that day, at the movie theater, cameron challenged me to a dance-off on a video game. in his camo pants, white t-shirt and mohawk, he completely annihilated me. and entertained everyone in the lobby. what a guy.

so, cameron, happy happy birthday. i know you are still keeping everyone on their toes here and on the other side. i can't wait to see what antics you have planned for when i see you next.

(after a brief 340 cake minutes) let's eat some cake.

p.s. i plan on posting some new photos of me/baby/some projects i have been working on this weekend. you know, if you're interested.

so much to say, so much to say

2009-11-30T19:28:00.001-08:00

did you ever write yourself a letter in school that you were supposed to seal and not look at for about ten or twenty years? but then did you take it home for about two months until you found it again, ripped it open, realized how stupid the contents were and threw it away? (thus denying yourself the joy of reading it ten or twenty years later.)

i think i did that about a dozen times. and sometimes that's how i feel about my blog -- like it's this weird letter to myself that i am embarrassed to look at a few months after it's gone up. this time i am trying not to destroy sections i don't like. i think i (or jesse, or the little one(s)) might like to see it later.

so, here is a new time-capsule letter to capture how wonderful i feel today.

dear boo,

i feel that i have so very much to say, but so little of it may be of interest. maybe it's the pregnancy hormones, or maybe it's just a sliver of understanding of how much i am really blessed, but this thanksgiving was a blissful occasion.

last weekend, jesse spoke in stake conference with a general authority -- a member of the quorum of the twelve apostles to be exact. it was, in short, wonderful. he was given very little time to prepare, because apparently elder nelson wanted to see all the proposed speakers and take their names to the temple before any could be approached about speaking. nonetheless, jesse was perfect. he made me sob through the entire five minutes. (again, blaming the hormones here.)

we recently got the latest letter from st. jude children's research hospital asking for our donations. we love st. jude's and try to give when/how we can, but it has been much closer to home since my dear friend's little daughter, emma, has spent the last year getting some intensive treatment there for neuroblastoma, a pretty wicked cancer. when we opened the letter, we were so excited to see emma's little face (we know her!) peering back at us above a short description of her story. you had better believe that will sucker us into a better donation this christmas. i hope that my friends would consider the same. (yep, stepping out of letter speak there.) i am a huge fan of modern medicine and consider it nothing less than a miracle. it saves my life every day, and i know it has saved emma's four-year-old life a few times now.

last week at work, my boss pulled me into her office (generally a sign i'm getting a buttload -- that's a real term -- of work coming my way). i was shocked and delighted to find that instead of a huge project, i got an award for "working hard" and "running myself ragged" and "not sucking." and it came with a bonus! A BONUS! i didn't even know that those existed! it's not much, but i think it might be enough to buy myself fruit snacks for the rest of my pregnancy.

oh, and did i mention that we had three thanksgiving dinners this year? pie + elastic maternity pants = oh crap, i'm blaming that weight gain on the baby.

finally, the swell season concert jesse took me to for a late anniversary gift was phenomenal. seriously brilliant. but if they have hyperlinks in the future, and you have about thirty minutes, you can just watch this video and remember. see? didn't you love it?

anyway, i hope things are going well for you now. i also hope that they have finally developed the hovercraft and an easy way to remove all stretch marks.

love,

boo

another year over, a new one just begun

2009-11-18T20:26:00.000-08:00

it seems i get mushy about my husband fairly regularly on here lately, but i feel justified today. three years ago, the dashing jesse jones (unwittingly) married awkward little me. i am still shocked and thrilled about it. the last three years have been the most wonderful adventure of my life. i can't wait for the next three (and the three after that).

jesse: i'll eat you up, i love you so.

busy times call for busy photos

2009-11-17T21:02:00.000-08:00

full heart

2009-11-10T17:55:00.000-08:00

ovember is one of my favorite months. it is a wonderful season for reflection -- an opportunity to be grateful for things we have been blessed with (and boy, have we ever been blessed!). and though i know there is so much i already have to be grateful for, i am overwhelmed by the cool opportunities ahead of us that keep me so very optimistic about the several weeks ahead.

on our schedule:

seeing these guys in concert in a couple of weeks.

a well-earned thanksgiving break for the mister.

our third wedding anniversary.

gestating the little one and enjoying all the little squirms and not-so-little jabs in the ribs. (it seems like this opportunity would be blessing enough.)

jesse acting as opening speaker for this guy at an upcoming stake conference (a super cool story i will have to share in more detail later).

with so much excitement on the horizon, you would think that i wouldn't need anything else these days. really, i don't need anything else. but with the most wonderful friends in the world, i have gotten TWO packages in the mail this week. you read that right. Dos. Zwei. Deux. (and i even stole the idea for the lovely drop cap at the beginning of this post from one of the lovely ladies. it's shameless, really.)

so, i really could try to make this post a bit more witty or interesting, but my heart is just too full. i am grateful for that. and i can't wait to find ways to share it with other people. until next time, may your november be merry and bright.

oh, this husband of mine...

2009-11-03T19:09:00.000-08:00

he keeps me in stitches.

you know those days where you get all bent out of shape by the fact that you can't really bend over like a normal person, and you grunt like a hippo when you try to get that second leg into your pants in the morning? and then you remember it's just going to get worse over the next three and a half months? no? i do. all the time.

sidetrack: somedays i am amazed that even though i really wanted to be pregnant, and i dreamt of it and prayed for it, i still act like i'm going through a ridiculous and unexpected second puberty. "what?!? my body does what?!? but i don't want to get zitty! i don't want my butt to get bigger! i don't like leg cramps! i don't want to get the worst haircut of all time!" (though the last one isn't attributed to my baby, i am blaming my stylist's pregnancy. so it is all related.) someone in this house tends to act like a baby. and it tends to be the person carrying the baby.

back on track: jesse shrugs it off. and sometimes it is irritating. but tonight, after a dinner where i complain for about 30 minutes, jesse says, "let's make like the germans and get the french out of here. I JUST MADE THAT UP! that was completely unfunny but hilarious! let's see who can think of the worst way to say we should leave..." (we do this kind of "let's see who can make the least funny joke possible" competition on a fairly regular basis.)

then all the way out to the car, i hear a rambling that consists of the following:

let's make like the operator of a sewage treatment plant and get the crap out of here.

let's make like the lakers and get the jazz out of here.

let's make like an exorcist and get the hell out of here. (he was getting quite excited by this point in time.)

let's make like ex-lax and...

you get the idea. for ten minutes. and of course, i had nothing. i am not that quick anymore, and i -- continuing the pity party -- say to the husband, "i can't do this, honey. the word games are not so easy for me these days. i'm just not that smart."

"that's not true," he replies. "you are very good at math!"

and that's when i remembered one of the many reasons i married him. you need someone who can make you laugh at yourself. and he does it for me all the time.

(demonstration of jesse cracking me up at our engagement photo shoot)

what a blessing. i hope it never changes.

our weekend and warm wishes

2009-10-27T21:04:00.000-07:00

(and for your viewing pleasure, one of my favorite television Halloween moments)

good night, moon

2009-10-20T20:36:00.001-07:00

it's 9:36 p.m. and i am ready for bed.

just plain tuckered out. but really, with so much excitement, how could you blame me?

what excitement? (you say)

oh, you know, hoping i can figure out how to be one of these little guys for halloween,

it's an entire guild dedicated to lollipops!

learning that the little one likes online shoe shopping (for her, of course),

planning to celebrate the completion of another test for the devoted pharmacy student tomorrow evening,

knowing jonesy doesn't have another test for more than a week (it's a miracle!),

and hoping that the husband will take me somewhere cheesy and fall-themed this weekend.

aren't you exhausted just thinking about it all? i know i am. i think it's time we all turn in.

against all odds

2009-10-13T19:48:00.000-07:00

evidence this child could be male:

jesse has all boys in his family. his dad has seven brothers. my dad has four brothers. i have three brothers. you could say we come from a line of male-dominated families.

out of the ten previous davis grandchildren (offspring of my immediate family), seven are boys.

the chinese lunar calendar predicted it would be a boy.

my all-knowing supermom sister told me i had to have a boy so our children could be BFFs.

all nicknames given to the baby have been male-oriented (such as "shank" and "moon doggie").

this baby kicks. hard. it makes its presence known.

i just had "that feeling" that it was a boy.

but, against all odds, we are thrilled to know we are having a beautiful BABY GIRL!

(which has to be announced in green because, according to gilmore girls, everyone knows that green is the new pink.)

to my unborn child -- a plea

2009-10-08T17:47:00.001-07:00

dear baby,

at 19 weeks, you are supposed to look like a large mango covered in greasy cheese. i don't mean to be rude, but you sound a bit disgusting. sometimes, though, i find myself daydreaming about a really adorable, greasy mango and it makes me smile.

on tuesday, we get to find out which of two varieties of human you are. you will go from greasy mango to boy or girl -- that's quite a step up! it seems to be in vogue to choose not to know -- some prefer a surprise and some find superiority in declaring that women didn't know for thousands of years and were just fine. i have never been one for waiting, and i figure thousands of years ago i wouldn't have access to lots of medical care that lets me experience this, so we will be finding out. besides, your dad always says it will be a surprise to us come tuesday.

i mostly can't wait to see you again.

the doctor says that you are a rebel. you wiggle too much when they tried to find your heartbeat, so we had to do an early ultrasound (and you scared me to death, young man or lady). during the ultrasound, the doctor exclaimed, "that is quite a bit of fetal movement! you have a very active one on your hands!" you don't seem to behave as they would like you to for these routine procedures.

so this is me pleading. if my center of gravity weren't so messed up, i would even get down on my knees. please, please behave. this is the only time i will ever ask you to share your unmentionables with a room full of strangers.

we pled so much to be able to have you at all, so this kind of pleading seems a bit silly. no matter what, you are the most amazing blessing. and we can't wait to see you. even if you come out looking like a greasy cheese-covered mango.

love, mommy

you may be seeing more of me

2009-10-06T16:53:00.000-07:00

two nights ago, jesse and i returned from a one-week hiatus (that i will refer to internally as a vacation) at my parents' house. sure, they were the ones in europe, but we got to babysit my 17-year-old-senior-in-high-school-too-cool-for-school little sister annie.

when we got back to our other temporary little home (you know, the one with our bed in it), i realized just how cold eastern idaho gets in early october. apparently the snow on the ground earlier that day wasn't reminder enough. i went to turn up the thermostat in various rooms in the house, only to learn that the husband and i have varying ideas of what "warm" means. to me it means comfortable. to jesse it means survivable.

so i confidently set the thermostat in one room in the home. the room where my little iMac resides, along with half of our belongings and some leftover storage from the true owners of this place (and yes, we will be trying to fit a baby in this place).

so you may be seeing more of me. or maybe not. but at least now you understand why i look like this.

and for diane, here is the belly approximately one week ago. (so... 18 weeks?)

warning: random babbling

2009-09-21T20:23:00.000-07:00

here are some things i have learned lately:

maternity pants are not all hideous. they are not all flattering. but they are so comfortable. i should have done this years ago.

peanut butter captain crunch cereal is absolutely delicious.

if you are four months pregnant, and you wear your old clothes to the gym, sometimes your belly sticks out when you move rapidly. and that is, apparently, not attractive.

sometimes ten-year-olds in primary will answer a question about preparing to share the gospel with the statement "yeah, but all my friends are mormon, so this doesn't really apply to me." well, i guess that's one approach.

six-day work weeks are not very much fun. thank heavens for a day of rest.

life isn't perfect, but sometimes i forget about the amazing compensation the lord has given me. i hope ya know that i have learned it is so true. (and i hope you will watch the video about it)

at the end of a six-day work week, you might get a letter from one of your sweet, ten-year-old primary children telling you how excited they are that you're having a baby. and it might make you a little emotional.

i should have never found this web site.

BEST OF ALL: my bff is coming home this weekend. (i can't wait!)

and there is one thing i will learn in three weeks:

whether this little critter taking up more space in my body is a boy or girl. i have my suspicions. (but we are so excited either way.)

sometimes a girl just needs a pair of good jeans -- and other reasons to have sisters

2009-09-16T21:01:00.000-07:00

dear sister:

thanks for appreciating the excitement of my first haircut in four months. i don't know what i'd do if you couldn't experience such small thrills with me on a regular basis.

i have been quietly celebrating your big victory all day. here's to hoping that soon we can both feel comfortable in real pants.

until then, i remain your constant friend in track pants.

love,

boo

like an old sock

2009-09-10T18:11:00.001-07:00

"what if they made a t-shirt that had, like, bruce lee? and bruce lee's, like, dad and grandpa? and, like his son? i would totally buy that shirt," the sales associate told him three years ago.

and though it isn't bruce lee and his entire family tree, he, like, bought it.

and now she, like, wears it. because she can. and it fits around the growing middle.

if you had been here

2009-09-02T19:37:00.000-07:00

yesterday, you could have seen me give jesse his (belated) home-made birthday card.

it looked a little bit like this.

do you ever have those days where you have to step back and ask yourself how you got so blessed? i have been having a lot of those days lately thanks to this guy.

i really couldn't be more proud (of the husband, not the card. though the card isn't too bad...).

because i could not stop for illness...

2009-08-26T20:22:00.000-07:00

illness forced me to stop for the afternoon.

see, sometimes i get sick. and usually i convince myself that it's not going to go away just because i go home. and it's not like i can get anyone else ill (at least, i don't think that's where babies come from...)

and then all my books and web sites and silly pregnancy e-mail updates convinced me that i should be starting to feel much better. so i told everyone i was starting to feel better. and for a few days, i was.

then this week happened. and though monday and tuesday can be attributed entirely to the little wild thing, today showed that sometimes baby growing + diabetes = no bueno. and without being too graphic, just trust me. it was no bueno.

so for today, my big prayer is that i will actually be able to work my full nine hours tomorrow. it would be a first for the whole week. and i am reminded (yet again) that sometimes a little humility is a good thing. but i'm going to keep hoping that when my second trimester starts on sunday that illness will listen to all of my books and web sites and e-mail updates, and it will kindly stop for me.

this completely uninteresting post brought to you by a girl who hasn't left her house for anything other than work or church in far too long.

some thoughts

2009-08-14T10:07:00.000-07:00

we got to see our little wild thing. (ok, ok. you can see it too...)

and we learned that it should be joining us around february 28 (no, this is not a leap year).

the other night i woke up in a panic because i swear i could feel my body expanding. it wasn't comfortable. and i know it will get worse. and i'm terrified. and thrilled.

and then i threw up a few times and fell asleep again. so far, pregnancy really is the joy i had hoped it would be.

7,000 words of summer

2009-08-01T09:23:00.000-07:00

you'd better believe it

2009-07-17T20:19:00.000-07:00

two amazing grandparents celebrating their 80th year of life.

plus eight children joining the celebration

and more than 30 proud grandchildren (this little girl included) along for the ride.

add spouses and great-grandchildren.

spread over five days of jam-packed fun.

you've got one great reunion on your hands. i can't wait.

ain't no sunshine when he's gone

2009-07-05T20:36:00.000-07:00

so, jesse is gone for the week. the whole week.

i know whining like this seems pathetic (because it really is), but let me explain. he was gone all last week. and i saw him for about two hours this weekend because of family commitments and my recent fondness of napping. he keeps going to boise to finish his mandatory free labor for school.

but see, jesse leaves with the sun shining, and no less than three hours later, i hear the wind howling and the rain coming in. coincidence? i beg to differ.

if i could have heard myself five years ago, this kind of whiny behavior would have been baffling. some more potentially offensive (but recently occurring) clingy behavior might include:

refusing to sleep in our new place until jesse can stay there with me. sure, there are creepy crafts crowding each room, and the place is really fit for senior citizens, but still. i simply refuse to stay at the place with my belongings and where i am paying rent until the husband can be there. i am surprised my parents haven't forcibly removed me from their basement.
retiring to bed around 9:30 because i don't want to do anything else. i seriously got out of bed to write this post. i haven't been in bed that early since elementary school.
talking about jesse so much that all my co-workers couldn't possibly handle another tale.
sending approximately ten text messages an hour or calling if i haven't heard from the man in more than three hours. when i approach the three-hour mark, i tend to assume there has been a horrific accident. then each unreturned communication increases certainty that i have become a tragically young widow, and the volume of calls exponentially increases. it's a wonder he takes any of my calls.

so this could be indicative of a few things. it could be that i desperately need friends. or it could be a testament of the fact that i continue to fall more in love with him everyday.

it's probably both. but for sentiment's sake, i'm going with the second option.

jesse, i miss you. call me when you get to boise. or now.

'twas a lovely june day

2009-06-24T21:18:00.001-07:00

and two lovely people were wed

in a magical place.

their wonderful guests included this wonderful family

and this sweet little girl

and this little girl

and this devilishly handsome young man.

and though it was a beautiful wedding, the day still had its splendidly awkward moments. which grandpa witnessed.

but we returned home feeling love, happiness and completely uplifted.

the end.

the great purge

2009-06-20T10:32:00.000-07:00

moving always feels like a soul-cleansing process.

what do you keep? pack? unpack? dedicate to a new place in a new home?

what doesn't make the cut?

that lamp i started to refinish that just needs the fresh coat of paint and the trim on the shade? keep. definitely.

that gallon of paint i was planning to use on said lamp? questionable.

that coupon i was holding on to for that one pizza place in pocatello that i thought was awesome, but i now blame almost entirely for the ridiculous weight gain during my stay there? toss. definitely.

to me, it is so much more than casually shoving all of your items into a few boxes and hauling them less than an hour north. it is meticulous.

so, you can see it takes time. it will take more time than i had budgeted. but if you were my husband, and you read this justification, then you would understand why i'm not packed yet. right?

poltergeist or angel of virtue?

2009-06-09T18:01:00.000-07:00

so here i sit, adoring how cute my little computer looks propped on a trunk next to my typewriter, when i hear hell's fury in the background.

see, i do very little without background noise. it used to be music. now it is mostly hgtv. anyway, the tv starts this crazy rasping and it looks like scratchies. and suddenly i fear for this.

i ponder: is there, in fact, truth to the idea that demons could try to reach me through my beloved television set?

and then i realize that this poltergeist actually interrupted kathy griffin's my life on the d list. i suppose i had invited as many irritating, narcissistic demons as one actually gets through television.

bless you, interrupted cable connection.

still kicking

2009-06-03T18:17:00.000-07:00

i might not be blogging lately, but all of my body functions seem to be in tact. i have been living in my parents' basement. my computer has been living at the pocatello house. my camera has been living in my car.

my sanity still eludes me.

and while it seems that about thirty children have been born since i last communed with the blogging world, i have to admit that life has seemed a bit simpler. and sometimes you just need to simplify.

but i am back. and i will have pictures and the least fascinating tales to share in no time. hold on to your hats.

remind me of home

2009-05-06T19:52:00.001-07:00

well, we may not have an official home.

previous house: nostalgic past, a former home

current house: infested, almost a past (hopefully)

next house: borrowed, not really ours

but, we are going to boise tomorrow. and even though we don't have a residence there, it feels like going home. details to follow.

the question of mani-pedis on a warm wednesday evening

2009-04-22T20:01:00.001-07:00

(can you tell that headlines are not my strength?)

once, around eighth grade, my entire family decided to get a pedicure for a family outing. i am nearly certain this was my dad's attempt at bonding with his daughters. i mostly remember it as the day dad got pink toenails and another human being actually touched cameron's feet. she will undoubtedly get a special section of cloud in heaven.

but that was my only experience with professional nail grooming. it struck me today, as i listened to a co-worker disgustedly tell me she hadn't had a manicure-pedicure (or, as someone in the know would call it, a mani-pedi) in almost a month, that i've never had a mani-pedi.

now, don't pity me for this. in my mind, it seems like a waste of income to have your nails professional trimmed twice a month (or however often you actually do it). but i do imagine it to be a wonderfully luxurious experience. rejuvenating. relaxing. absolutely girly.

so then i had to ask myself: what do i do in lieu of the infamous mani-pedi that maintains all of those needs?

well, i bought some FABULOUS fabric on clearance this weekend, but i have no idea what i will do with it. that is typical. i suppose that means that crafting of all sorts is out. i go to church, and though this is rejuvenating, i spent all of this sunday feeling like i was going to hyperventilate (can you say three callings, anyone?). so i guess that isn't quite the equivalent of the mani-pedi as i imagine it.

and then i remembered that i have weekly lunches with this little thing. and she makes me laugh. hard.

and i also get to have some great heart-to-hearts with this lovely lady (who is going on the same trip to england that i went on five years ago. but she is going as faculty! can you believe it?).

and do you want to guess how i feel after all of this? if you answered

rejuvenated.

relaxed.

absolutely girly.

totally blessed.

you win five points.

becca takes manhattan

2009-04-15T20:34:00.001-07:00

i will say that there were ups and downs. the biggest up? seeing this lady on broadway for this play was phenomenal. and hearing my baby sister sing at this place was cool beyond words (just like her).

but, not visiting this place was nearly heartbreaking. and finding out that this place doesn't even exist anymore was a disheartening revelation.

but finding a three-story version of this place made it all worthwhile.

did i take pictures of these things? no. but i did get a picture of marion trying to make a gang sign. and that, my friends, is priceless.

oh, and here are some other pictures if you are interested.

i loved the trees

particularly the ones in bloom (i only want to plant blooming trees at my house. they are just perfect).

and we had an overall great time

(i hope you liked exploring the different sites again with me)

the truce

2009-04-02T19:51:00.001-07:00

dear spiders:

it has recently come to my attention that you may not understand our living agreement.

when we moved in, we created a barrier with the door to the haunted basement. we set a few traps at the top stair, weather stripped the bottom and vowed to never cross the boundary. it was not unlike the sonic fence in LOST.

since then, we have not disturbed your half of the house, save when jesse has popped down there to add salt to the water softener. an unbiased party would surely agree that your half of the home looks eerily like the basement in evil dead. yet, honoring the truce, we have left it undisturbed.

when your vagrant members have violated the agreement, we (jesse) have killed them. one by one. i don't mean to brag, but i do mean to emphasize the measures we will take to enforce the peace.

so, you can imagine how alarmed i have been over the last two weeks to find four of your clan's members in our territory, most notably the three i have found in the shower far too early in the morning.

i know that your calendar may have told you a few weeks ago that it is "spring," and you may feel entitled to roam about a bit (no doubt you have experienced cabin fever). but i drove in a blizzard to work today, so that argument simply will not stand.

in short, if you continue to violate the truce, i will sic my barely awake, irritated but lovingly brave husband on you. and he wields a mighty shoe.

offendedly yours,

boo

lesson (being) learned

2009-04-01T20:28:00.000-07:00

it is more important to be kind than it is to be right.

it's best of all if you can be both.

but really, if you have to choose, be nice. please.

and if you still don't get what i am saying, check out this song (i like to sing along).

he-said-she-said

2009-03-23T18:15:00.000-07:00

"We change, whether we like it or not" ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

he said it looks like this...

but it really looks like this...

i said it looks like this...

but it really looks like this...

she said it looks like this

he said it looks like this...

i said it looks like this...

but it really looks like this...

the ides of march

2009-03-15T20:56:00.000-07:00

(this picture of jil and cameron was shamelessly stolen from jil's blog. it was too cute to pass up.)

today marks six years since my brother cameron passed away. i had the privilege today to reflect on how grateful i am for a merciful heavenly father that has given us the gift of eternal families.

in honor of today, i have decided to do my first repost of an entry i did two years ago.

It's March 15 Again

It's hard to believe that it's been four years since Cameron's been gone. I won't say that it seems like yesterday that I gathered in my parents' bedroom with a host of loved ones around as my dad told us all over the phone that he had been killed. It doesn't. I'm a different person now than I was then. That day changed our family entirely.

However, I suppose it's easier to say that Cameron doesn't feel distant. I like it that way. He's missed the births of five new Davis grandchildren. He missed my wedding. I suppose you could say that's missed a lot--I know that we have certainly missed him. But his sense of humor, his little boy charm, and his huge heart have always been a part of us.

I think that these pictures of Cameron best depict what I admire most about him. They were taken about ten years apart, but they both depict exactly who he is.

These pictures show how over time, despite all of the challenges in his life, Cameron never lost his sense of who he was, and is: a goofy kid who loved a good baby, a good laugh, and a good family.

For those of you who knew and loved Cameron, my heart goes out to you today. It's hard every year.

And to Cameron: we all love and miss you every day. especially today.

i miss you

2009-03-12T20:24:00.000-07:00

dear friend (you know who you are),

hope ya know that i think of you often.

remember when we met? you weren't really sure about me at first -- i was a little awkward, a little insecure, a little ... much -- but you gave me a chance. i like to think that the risk paid off. you found me when i really needed you.

a list of thanks:

thanks for seeing my good qualities and loving them
thanks for seeing my bad qualities and loving me anyway
thanks for giving me that ridiculous nickname
thanks for our inside jokes
thanks for understanding that i am always trying
thanks for making me laugh so hard i cried
thanks for making me laugh when i can't stop crying
thanks for the long lunch dates
thanks for remembering the little things that mean everything to me
thanks for forgiving me when i am late (again) at remembering yours
thanks for reading this list even though it's totally cliche
thanks for understanding how sincerely i mean it all

i know i don't get to see you as often as i would like. and sometimes i don't get to see you at all. but i carry you with me. these days i find myself feeling like i need a friend more than ever, but then i remember i have you. can't you sense how happy make me?

like when you visited me in a city where i knew no one...

and taught me that i deserve to be really loved...

and shared a once in a lifetime trip with me (and then let me steal the photos off of your blog...)

and spent so much of your time cracking me up...

and stole my heart everytime you smiled...

and made me wish that i were as dedicated as you are (even though you might not be a real person...)

and know that this letter is addressed to you even if i didn't have a picture of you on my computer...

frankly, you make me ME. and i like me. thanks.

so even though i wrote for nine straight hours today at work, i owe it to you to drop a line. just to let you know that one of god's greatest graces is that he lets us have friends. and you may not believe it, but i didn't get that from a hallmark card.

with love...

public enemy number one

2009-03-09T20:18:00.000-07:00

this guy:

here's how it all works. in 1784 he writes a satirical essay recommending that the frenchies wake up before noon. pretty sure there was something about using less candles in there too.

next thing you know, the british take off with this idea.

now, i have to wake up an hour earlier for work and endure a painful headache all afternoon.

so, benny boy, you may have had your heyday -- you know, helping establish liberty in america and all -- but today, sir, i take issue with you.

tomorrow we might be friends again. stay tuned.

scatter sunshine

2009-02-27T10:09:00.000-08:00

a few things brightening my life lately:

tax refunds

potential trip/cruise to spend said refund

swimsuit shopping for said trip (online, of course. no one likes trying on swimsuits). i'm particularly liking these ones:

going to nyc with my mom and little sis in five short weeks

french eclectic style (click here to find out what your style is--thanks, Diane!)

learning a little more every day about trusting God's plan for me (and learning patience when it's not my plan).

oh, and did i mention fridays off?

in fact, i'm feeling so sunny that i've almost forgotten that my brand-new jeans split right in the crotch in the middle of my workday yesterday...

viva la vida

2009-02-25T20:05:00.000-08:00

there's a hill on my way home every day. i'd estimate it's about fifteen blocks from the freeway exit to my street. if fate is on my side, i can put my car in neutral when i exit the freeway, weave between traffic, hit the only stop light and coast all the way to 10th Ave. when it happens, it is absolutely exhilarating and the perfect ending to my commute.

that happened to me yesterday.

alright, here's where i try to force a metaphor between this and my life (be ye warned).

i love when i have days like that. i wake up early, my hair looks good, i like something i wrote at work, i go to the gym, the sun is still up when i get home from work, jesse miraculously has no tests/quizzes/homework due the next day, perhaps an episode of LOST is on (did anyone watch tonight's episode? DUDE). it's wonderful.

today wasn't one of those days. it wasn't a bad day, mind you. more things went right than wrong, but i was tired. on my way home, i made it about seven blocks, anticipating my only obstacle: the red light. i slowly pushed the brake, thinking that if i spaced it out enough i could still make it--even if i made the turn at five miles per hour. when i finally stopped at the light, i realized i had a choice. i could either accept this as defeat, or i could decide to make the most of it.

when the light turned green, i decided to give myself a boost and accelerated for one block. i still coasted several blocks before i turned. and you know what? it still felt pretty good. so today i have decided that i still prefer when the stars all align, but it's alright to push a couple of them around if necessary.

and, because i never have pictures, feast your eyes on these handsome boys (and me).

do you long for true love?

2009-02-16T20:59:00.000-08:00

was your valentine's day filled with romantic getaways, expensive chocolates, three dozen red roses, one carat solitaire diamond earrings and a romantic dinner with candlelight and violin players?

mine was better.

road trip to boise with the husband, screaming nieces and nephews, a few hours at the mall, tacos with the family, and the blessing of a sweet new baby.

it may not be on any kay jewelers ads, but it was wonderful.

hope everyone else had a LOVEly (see what i did there?) weekend.

isn't writing supposed to be therapeutic?

2009-02-07T19:14:00.000-08:00

alright, i didn't think i would post this, but today it seems all too relevant. i took a creative nonfiction course this summer, and it was a truly awesome experience. below you will find a sketch i wrote that was fun but helpful.

for a few months, i thought i was cured.

but then this week happened. it seems that my weak human nature makes change so impossible. anyway, without further ado, here is a little something something that will sum up the past few days. (Andrea, you can stop reading here as you have already endured this psychobabble)

The Mean Greens

In Breakfast at Tiffany’s, Holly Golightly is an expert on the “mean reds,” those times when “suddenly you’re afraid and you don’t know what you’re afraid of.” For Golightly, the mean reds are temporarily remedied with inevitable trips to Tiffany’s. I suffer from a similar condition I like to think of as the “mean greens,” when I’m suddenly envious without any logical reason --the cure for which still eludes me.

Anything can really set the mean greens off. Finding a cute sweater from Anthropologie only to check my bank account and realize how far out of my price range it truly is. Hearing about a great graduate program in Scotland a well-deserving friend of mine is headed to while I pack up for the glaringly less glamorous move to Pocatello, Idaho for my husband’s graduate work. Even finding out that an ex-boyfriend from eons ago that remains only in my life as a remnant photo in my high school yearbook is getting married seems to set me off.

While the greens frequently spur up in moments of attempted retail therapy or other financial transactions, they aren’t restricted to purely materialistic moments; in fact, they’re generally the easiest to mitigate when they are attached to something shallow and fleeting. Unfortunately, the greens often attach most firmly to where it hurts most, or—even more shockingly—where they aren’t expected to hurt at all. They come as that nagging in the back of my mind that I am somehow behind in life or inadequate.

Symptoms of the mean greens include: sulking, quietly internet browsing for hours on end, and secretly despising those whose fortune is infinitely greater than mine. Though these symptoms often take place in a warm, safe, comfortable home where my loving husband sits—secretly laughing at this silly rage—the greens take over. They block all reason. They look down upon the rational section of my brain and simply state, “Try as you might, there is no key to my undoing.” Frankly, they don’t care how fortunate I really am. They’re just that mean. Attempts to mediate such feelings are often futile.

This is generally where I hear my mother’s voice, reminding me to lose myself in helping others. I have finally grown up enough to realize that my mother is generally right, so I have tried this selfless approach several times; I really have. I visit girls I know who just had babies in an attempt to mitigate my own baby hunger, I make dinner for my husband to remember how lucky I am to have him, and I have even gone so far as to sew aprons and blankets for others in attempts to improve my domesticity rather than focus on my current position as domestically derelict. But the greens are resilient. Soon I find myself thinking that to truly serve others, I would do something larger, grander. I dream of taking humanitarian trips around the world, setting up literacy circles and health clinics; in these visions I become a regular Angelina Jolie—without the film career and vials of blood around my neck. These visions of grand humanity only create a new source of the mean greens—humanitarian envy.

Like Holly Golightly, I don’t really know where this case of the mean greens started or why I allow it to perpetuate. I tell myself that it’s a byproduct of growing up in a large family where hand-me-downs were the norm. Unfortunately for my anger-projecting-psyche, I really loved hand-me-downs; they were a connection to those far more fashionable than I—older, beautiful, female relatives. Then the vicious truth sets in—there is a possibility that I allow the world to tell me what I should have and who I should be. I believe them. When I was young, I didn’t realize that I needed Polly Pockets until every girl on TV seemed to be toting her set with her to glamorous tea parties and play dates. I didn’t care that I dressed badly until the seventh grade when (name withheld to protect the innocent) told me we couldn’t be friends anymore because I needed better clothes. I didn’t mind having diabetes and the challenges it presented in my life until my friends began having child after child and casually telling me all the things I’ll never know until I’m a mother.

It’s not that I am upset with people who can purchase a wonderful wardrobe or happily move forward with their lives. There’s more to it. Despite all efforts to become a strong, educated, independent woman, there’s some dissatisfaction with me.

For now, I live with the encumbering weight of the mean greens, but like Holly Golightly, I dream of being released from their irrational stronghold; I’m still searching for a “real-life place that’d make me feel like Tiffany’s.” As a precaution against future fits of the greens, I just hope it has a clearance rack.

the sound of stifling

2009-02-02T20:57:00.001-08:00

when i got my job, i was elated. my dad was disappointed.

i don't think it's that he reveled in my unemployment misery--health insurance nightmares, extreme boredom and constant stress about paying rent. he worried that if i worked as a writer that i would "lose my spark." he told me that the work would suck all the fun out of writing for me.

i told him he was crazy. i survived book reports. i had survived the five paragraph essay in high school. i had even survived the grueling hours dedicated to exploring fetishes, epiphany, romantic poetry (ugh), and even rhetoric and composition (double ugh) on the page. i still loved writing.

i quickly assured the man that the blog would remain strong, that i would continue fanning my sad little spark under the delusion that only smoky the bear could slow me down.

to be honest, work is great. i write and edit every day.

but i'm beginning to think the colonel might be right. after all, it's been two weeks, and this was the best post i could conjur up. are you all worried that this is telling of my sad demise?

p.s. in other talent development news, i have been working diligently on my ability to kill aliens on jesse's ps3. if you have any aliens that need to be shot or beaten with the butt of a gun, let me know.

about a boo

The drain of creation

In her pack

My sounding board

Photobooth with Dummies

Sometimes he changes my mind.

The jury's still out

You can't really blame me.

The three faces of Pen

Trying to bang(s) it out

Mommy, "Wow! You're a big girl now?"

Befuddlingly gregarious

Overheard at our house

Stream of consciousness [OR] On BFFs

There is a 'corporate ladder'

How to avoid being a bad parent

Because it just seems wrong not to acknowledge it

Yeah, you're going to want to make this sometime

Wishing and hoping

I blame her father

For all the naysayers...

And then she was one

Sometimes the lemonade just makes itself

How did women survive?

Jones Family Finishing School

And now a post for Stephanie (and anyone else who is interested)

Yes, it really happened OR Adventures in cheesy jokes

Around here, this is what romance looks like

Love (?) letter

In case we don't return...

Sweet way to start the day

And I'm back in the game...

Maturation, or something like it

Defiance: A genetic defect?

The best part of waking up

Before the opportunity slips through my fingers

Half Birthdays *or* Carrying on the Tradition

Collecting no moss (I hope)

jersey shore takes boise

in short

capital punishment

working overtime

for father's day: reflections a day or so late

snapshots (sort of)

i blame the rain

i know, i know

mothering through the generations

captain's log

evensong

will the real penelope please spit up?

you'll be relieved to know

merry unbirthday, penelope!

ides of march comes again

maternal ramblings: volume I

to tide you over

so happy to introduce

tuesday i'm in love

a response to your query

marriage scene

wishing and hoping

some resolutions

feminine taming of the boo

things bright and beautiful

earning my cake

so much to say, so much to say

another year over, a new one just begun

busy times call for busy photos

full heart

oh, this husband of mine...

our weekend and warm wishes

good night, moon

against all odds

to my unborn child -- a plea

you may be seeing more of me

warning: random babbling

sometimes a girl just needs a pair of good jeans -- and other reasons to have sisters

like an old sock

if you had been here

because i could not stop for illness...

some thoughts

Half Birthdays or Carrying on the Tradition