Monday, November 1, 2010

my birthday hates me...

Recently I turned 30. What did I do for this monumental birthday? I went to the insta-care, got misdiagnosed, wasted $20 on a prescription I didn't need and went to bed early. On the up side, 2 days later I went to the dermatologist, found out I had shingles and then got a sinus infection.

Monday, October 4, 2010

family pictures...

I really wanted to get our pictures taken before Halle started looking any older and Annie started losing teeth. A friend recommended this place called fotofly and they were GREAT! We didn't get a zillion pictures because Halle decided she'd had it about 20 minutes into it. I wish there were some other one we would have gotten or that would have turned out better but all in all, it was great (as great as family pictures can be anyway)!

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

a few things I don't understand....

Conditioning shampoo. Seriously, has anyone EVER used a conditioning shampoo that has actually conditioned their hair? I hate it when I've been unfortunate enough to forget my own shampoo and conditioner and have had to use the hotel's 'conditioning shampoo'. It makes me want to rub the 'moisturizing body lotion' all over my hair just so it doesn't end up in a big, crazy bouffant on top of my head. Have you ever tried to comb through your hair after using the conditioning shampoo by itself?

Play Dates. It's not that I don't like them or that I don't like my kids to play, I do. I just don't understand the term 'play date'. Whatever happened to just playing? I remember when I was little I'd run home from school and ask my mom if I could play with this person or that, never once did I say "can I have a play date with so and so". It's weird.

Gymboree. I understand that this is a very popular store and I admit that on occasion, I have made a few purchases from there. But what I don't understand is why anyone who has a kid older than 5 or 6 would want to shop there. Why would a 10 year old want a shirt and a jacket and pants and a hair bow with a little poodle and a lollipop all over them?

Mexican Music. No offense to our neighbors to the South but I think I've finally figured out why so many of them want to come to America - it's to get away from that dreadful music. For one thing, it all sounds EXACTLY the same. I can't picture myself listening to it and thinking "oh I love this song". If I want to listen to something that sounds like people wailing and banging pots and pans together, I have 2 kids willing to accommodate.

Monday, August 30, 2010

do they give cart lessons...

I can't decide which I like less, driving cars or driving carts. Actually, what I should say is: I can't decide what I like less OTHER people driving cars or driving carts.

There is a measure of expected irritability when it comes to driving a car, I suppose. I expect that some people are going to be atrocious drivers and do ridiculous things, but I guess I don't expect those same people to park their cars and follow me into Costco and agitate me with their carts.

Do all the people with awful cart etiquette shop at Costco or is it just that the carts are colossal so it seems worse than it is?

Last Saturday I went to Costco in Lehi. It must have been substandard IQ day that I didn't know about but I have never been so annoyed by people and their carts in all of my life!

As I'm walking in the door there are at least 6 women with their carts jutting out in all directions looking at the stuff they have lined up against the wall. Right then I wanted to scream "hello, there are like 5 billion people trying to get in the door, move". But, I contained myself and pressed forward.

I don't know if you're like me but in every store I go into I have a subconscious pattern that I follow. I don't mean to do it, I just go the same way every time I go to Costco. I guess my subconscious doesn't dare deviate from the path so I continue to blindly follow it. So I'm walking down the main aisle, back to the produce/fridge section and as I'm walking back a 7 or 8 year old kid is pushing his little brothers in the cart and people are literally pulling out James Bond maneuvers to get out of his way. I did NOT move and instead let him come within inches of hitting me, gave him a bad look and continued on my way.

Then I happened into the sample area. I don't think there is a sample of anything that could make it worth going into the madness that is the sample area. I swear people will wait around for a half an hour just to get a free sample of American cheese or half of a frozen cream puff. It's bad enough to have 39 people crowded around a card table waiting for a bite of something but then there are those people who see the sample, leave their cart in the middle of the aisle and walk to the next 4 tables without returning to retrieve their carts. It kind of makes me want to steal their purses or push their cart to the other end of the store.

Also in this same heaven-forsaken area of the store there are those people who are walking along and then make a dead stop in the middle of cart traffic without even slowing down first or gradually drifting off in another direction. I've nearly had to sacrifice my children and my internal organs to prevent myself from ramming someone in the back and chipping off their heal bone with the front of my cart.

Don't even get me started on the circus show that is the food court at Costco. Without fail, there is always that person who tries to push a fully loaded cart while balancing 2 slices of pizza in one hand, a chicken bake in the other and 3 drink cups with a churro in their mouth. I don't like making 2 trips as much as the next guy, but don't try to be a super hero my friend.

And finally, there is also, without fail, that person who is by them self, has one thing in their cart and has seated them self at a table for 8 right on the perimeter of the eating area - and has taken up completely good cart space and a completely good table.

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

do I have to listen for another 30 years?

There is a certain person in my life *mom* whom I love but who has this horribly annoying habit. My mom and I have known each other for nearly 30 years now and EVERY SINGLE time I eat with her, at a restaurant or in her own kitchen, she HAS to comment on the way I eat. And, not only comment but say it like it's the first time she's ever noticed and the first time she's ever said anything about it.

I don't like tomoatoes. Never have. Unfortunately for me, tomatoes come on just about everything! I try to be vigilant about 86ing the tomatoes whenever possible but sometimes, I forget. It's not like I don't want to like tomatoes, my taste buds just won't allow it. And people *again, mom* always say, "there is nothing like a tomato picked right from the garden". So, every year I plant a few tomato plants and every year I try a tomato picked right from the garden and EVERY YEAR I nearly ralph on my shoes. It's a vicious cycle I see repeating itself for at least the next 30 years, just has it has for the last 30.

Still, every time I'm with my mom and I have forgotten to axe the tomatoes, she acts like I have just committed a felony. "Oh Emily, tomatoes are delicious, how can you not like them, there must be something wrong with you". Seriously, EVERY TIME.

I'm not a picky eater, I SWEAR I'm not...but I am very particular about eating meat. Some people have no problem chewing meat off the bones, gristle and all - I am NOT one of those people. Whenever I cut into a piece of meat, I inspect it for fat, veins, under-doneness or anything else that looks like it doesn't belong in my stomach, not to mention my mouth. So, every time I eat meat, I laboriously cut away any fat, cut around any veins, stab it with my fork, hold it as close as I can get it to my eyeballs and find only the most perfect parts. I also have a "discard" pile which is generally larger than the "intake" pile. I've always been this way. Again, I don't see this one changing any time soon. I don't imagine there will come a time when I'll just say "oh that piece of meat has veins and blood and fat seeping out of it, oh well", and shove it in my mouth.

And again, EVERY TIME I eat meat around my mom she acts as though this is a new habit I've conjured up, one that she's appalled at and never seen before. Moreover, she proceeds to me and anyone around (which usually happen to be my dad and husband who are VERY aware of the way I eat meat already) that I'm being ridiculous and I should just eat the meat. I don't know what she's complaining about, when I'm done digging through my meat, I always share my discard pile with her.

Friday, June 4, 2010

and the winner is......someone else

Last weekend I ran a 5K. I ran the same 5K last year (my very first one ever) and finished in just under an hour - not too fabulous. This year I was determined to do better, it shouldn't be difficult considering last years lack luster time.

The race started, I was near the middle of the "pack". I get passed by quite a few people, something I expected since I've run in several races now. I get passed by a few more, I'm still ok with that. Then I get passed by an old guy wearing dockers and a dress shirt who is wearing tennis shoes. I'm wondering where he came from but I'm still confident that I'll pass him eventually given his age and attire. "Just wait until we get to the hills gramps" I think to myself.

I keep running. I feel good about myself even though legions of people have passed me at this point. Then comes the old lady up on my left, passing me. I look at her - she has to be 75 years old! At this point I turn around and see a sparsity of people behind me. There is one middle aged fat guy and behind him the open road!

Surely I can't be at the back, I have to be somewhere in the middle. Hey, I'd even settle for the middle of the back.

I finish the race with a respectable time of 36 minutes and change. WAY better than last year and not too shabby considering I ran the whole time, there were a lot of hills and I'm not really a runner.

Guess who finished last? The middle aged fat guy. Guess who was next? Me.

Monday, May 17, 2010

happy birthday...

Halle turned 2 last week - I can hardly believe two years has gone by. My mom helped us celebreate on the day of her birthday by taking us to the Spaghetti Factory, the Disney Store and McDonald's. And just on Saturday, we had a Disneyland themed family party. When I asked her what she wanted for her birthday, she said Disneyland and since we couldn't go there, I figured the next best thing was to bring Disneyland here.

Halle eating the birthday dinner of champions, mac and cheese - hey, she was happy.

Opening the present that Annie got for her...

One of our FAVORITE places at Disneyland is Pooh Corner...I decided to make some of our favorite treats from there. We also had Blue Bayou Mint Juleps, Pizza Port Pasta, Bengal BBQ skewers, Adventureland Dole Whips and red velvet cake...

Halle's favorite things, fruit snacks and Mickey Mouse...

Happy Birthday Halle!!!

Thursday, May 6, 2010

new goal...

Recently I've seen a lot of my friends start something called "a picture a day" or something similar to that. GREAT idea! I need to start doing that too. But, lately I've been looking through old pictures and videos and I hardly have any video's, which makes me sad. I look at how cute they are and how much the kids have grown and I wonder why when it is so easy to turn on a camera and push record that I don't do it more often. So, my new goal is to take 1 video every day - even if it is only 10 seconds long.

Maybe next I'll do the picture a day thing too...

Monday, May 3, 2010

crisis at thirty...

I'll be turning thirty soon. I hadn't really planned on this being a big deal. I planned on celebrating it like I would any other birthday. I've even started saying I'm thirty just to ease into it and not have it be so shocking and horrifying. That was the plan.....that isn't what's happening.

I think the meltdown started while I was watching the winter Olympics this past February. It's not that I have big dreams of becoming a winter Olympian, I have no skill in that area and I hate being cold. It was the realization that even if I wanted to and was talented enough, I'm too old now.

Same goes for American Idol.

The other day at the store a twenty-something year old guy stopped me by saying "ma'am...". Oh great, I've gone from Miss to ma'am and that only happens in your 30's.

A few nights ago we were watching the Jazz game and at one point they said the ages of a few of the players. I'm older than Carlos Boozer. Have you seen him? He looks like he's 40 and I'm OLDER than he is! If I wanted to play in the NBA, I would be rapidly approaching my retirement years.

My dentist is the same age as I am!

I've nearly reached the age when I can say the phrase: "when I was in my 20's...". I have reached the point where I can lump a whole decade together and it can be considered just a passing moment. The decade before that I was 10. I've reached the point where my life is being lumped into decades.

I'm passed the age of excuses: I didn't know any better, I've never done that before, I'll do that when I'm older, I'm so inexperienced, etc.

All of this is disconcerting, but I think the bulk of the problem lies in the fact that I feel so under-accomplished. Now that I'm lumping decades together I can say that I hoped to achieve more in my 20's, hoped to be in a different situation, hoped to have changed somehow, hoped to be thinner, hoped to be better and stronger in my faith and faithful pursuits, hoped to be things I'm not.

I anticipate my 40's will be better. I'll be used to lumping decades together, having people call me ma'am will be the norm, competing in the Olympics or auditioning for American Idol will be only a distant memory from a decade earlier, I'll get an older dentist and I will have finally run out of excuses.

Yes, 40 will be better!

Friday, April 16, 2010

the easter egg...

To most people, this probably looks like a normal Eater egg. To me, it looks like the funniest thing that has happened lately. The other day I was fixing the kids breakfast and asked what they wanted - they said eggs. So I reached in and pulled out the old Easter eggs because I was going to throw them away and make some more. I noticed that the carton was empty and asked Annie when she had eaten the last egg. She said she hadn't eaten it. I must have looked confused because she said "mom, I put it in my sock drawer to give to grandma Lori". I said "you put the actual egg in your sock drawer or a plastic egg"? She said, "the real egg. I put it in there because I know socks are soft and it wouldn't break in there and I wanted to keep it safe for her until I could give it to her". I told her to go get it and sure enough, there was the Easter egg nice and safe (and a few weeks old) that she'd pulled from her sock drawer.

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

daily vent take fifteen...

I am not a petite person. I don't realistically anticipate that I ever will be. I have big bones (sure those large bones are encased in 23 inches of fat and very little muscle but they're big bones none the less).

The other day I went to this boutique/store to see if I could find a cute and inexpensive pair of jeans. So I walk up to the table and start looking around. I see that they have my size but when I hold them up I see that they are the unrealistic version of my size and not the actual version that someone who has had two kids and whose body has seen better days would actually wear.

So I ask the clerk if they have it in a size larger and she says no. Then she comes over and says, "you think you need a size X, oh you don't, these are HUGE" and then holds them up by me. I told her I was certain that they wouldn't fit and that I'd just check somewhere else. She lifts up the jeans again, tugs at the waist and says "these will for sure fit you, go try them on, they're huge."

At this point, knowing they wouldn't fit, I just wanted to make her feel as stupid as possible so I agreed, took the jeans and stepped into the dressing room.

You know your headed for disappointment when you have the pants 1/2 way up your legs and already you're struggling for your next breath. So I yank them up past my hips, attempt to button them (which just wasn't happening) and assess what I see in the mirror. I looked like I was attempting to put on stylish compression pants, they were tight and hideous. Not to mention I couldn't zip or button them up.

About this time the sales girls (who HAD to be working on commission) came knocking at my door asking what I thought of the jeans. I stepped out of the dressing room (garments showing and fat dimples bulging) and said, "you're right, these are huge". The poor girl was speechless. I don't know if she was embarrassed or in shock that anyone dared step out in public looking like I did but either way, she was horrified.

It's a good thing I have a healthy self esteem!

So my vent isn't actually about the girl thinking that the jeans that were WAY too small for me were HUGE - although, it could be.

I can't stand it when I'm being realistic about myself and the size of my body and other people feel the need to tell me it isn't so. I'm not fishing for a compliment, I understand that I'm not a size 2. Please don't feel it necessary to try and reassure me that I'm not a little chunky - I know I am and I'm obviously ok with it as I haven't gone on a diet or taken up a rigorous exercise routine.

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

photography class...

One thing I've always wanted to be better at (honestly there are MANY but this one seemed to be within reach) is taking pictures. It's not like I want to become a professional or even have a business, I just wanted to be able to take decent pictures of my kids and the day to day activities that we do.

So I signed up for a photography class.

I'm so excited because I think my pictures are actually improving. I've figured out how to handle the manual settings. I know what most of the little numbers and letters on my camera mean and I'm really excited to be able to use my pictures in my blog books without having to edit EVERY SINGLE picture!

Thursday, March 4, 2010

march hates me...

I don't know what it is about the month of March but I'm fairly certain it hates me! WARNING This is the longest post in history and is also a pity me post so if you don't want to know about our March misfortunes then just stop reading here and save yourself the boredom...

At the very beginning of last March I'd had enough of the tooth pain I'd been feeling for the past several weeks so I decided to go to the dentist. Not so glad that I did because I left the office being told I had 14 cavities (and yes, I do brush my teeth, I blame it on having been pregnant with Halle). I went back and had them filled but was told that several of them were really deep and that I might need a few root canals - a new experience for me. I wasn't too excited about the prospects though because everyone always compares everything bad to still being better than a root canal, so I put it off.

That didn't last long because in the weeks that followed I had the worst tooth pain I'd ever experienced in my life. I loaded up every single day on 800mg Ibuprofen as often as it said I could take it, sometimes more often. When that would no longer touch the pain I would take the left over Oxycontin from my c-section. NOTHING helped so I finally caved and called the dentist. I got two root canals and finally felt better - for a while.

One morning I woke up around 4:00 am to go to the bathroom and when I looked in the mirror I noticed that I had a cheek the size of a cantaloupe - no exaggeration. It wasn't painful really just this HUGE infection in my face. That is to say it wasn't painful until it started swelling more (as if that was possible) and then it really started to hurt. I waited as long as I could and then called my dentists emergency number around 6:30 am. He told me the office opened at 9:00 but he could see me at 8:30 (gee thanks) or I could go to an emergency dentist.

When I got to the dentists office he got this knife and made an incision in my cheek to try and drain the infection out of it, which didn't work. He tried a few other things, none of which worked and then he told me he would call the endodontist and try to get me an appointment the same day. I got an appointment with the endodontist at 2:00 and went home to wait it out. When I FINALLY got to the endodontist he told me that I needed yet another root canal to relieve the pressure and infection in my cheek and that he would put me on an antibiotic to help clear up the infection.

All of that sort of worked and the swelling went down but even with the antibiotic, the infection never really went away. Every 20 minutes or so I'd have to run into the bathroom and spit out the puss that would drain from my cheek into my mouth - totally gross I know. If you think reading about it is gross, you should try tasting it every 20 minutes for 4 or 5 days. I called my dentist back and said that I didn't think the antibiotic was working, no kidding. He put me on a stronger antibiotic to help clear up the remaining infection. Oh nice side note, the new antibiotic had a warning label that said "causes severe diarrhea" - awesome.

At last I had all of my medical problems solved - or so I thought. About a week after my teeth problems, I started to get really sick and have the same symptoms of my esophagus problems that I had last year. Being seasoned at faulty esophaguses I didn't want to over react to anything (and ride in an ambulance again) so I just kept taking my anti-inflammatory esophagus pills and went about my merry business. One day just after I woke up I suddenly got violently ill. My cure for feeling ill is to get in the shower, it seems to take the pain away, if even momentarily. This shower didn't help. While I was in there I couldn't stop vomiting - something I avoid doing at all costs! I was doubled over in pain and couldn't even stand up straight. I got out, called my mom and asked her to come get the kids so I could rest off whatever stomach bug it was that I had. She came and got the kids and I got into bed hoping to sleep off whatever this was.

Laying in bed wasn't helping, nothing was. I called Preston and told him what happened and asked what I should do. He was little or no help (sorry Preston but you weren't) and worse, he couldn't even leave work to come wait on my hand and foot. I waited a few more hours and when I could take it no more I called Preston back and told him he had to come home and drive me to the hospital. I didn't care if I was over reacting, I knew the hospital had medication that could make me feel better, even if it was going to be expensive - I didn't care. He said he still wasn't able to leave work but that he called his dad and he would come and take me. Great, just what every girl in traumatic pain wants - their father-in-law driving them to the hospital. I didn't care, at least I was going to be headed in the general direction of the hospital. It was all I could do to sit upright on the way there.

Once I got admitted, they gave me an IV so I could interveinous pain medication (praise heaven) and my life was grand again, I didn't care what happened after that - or so I thought. They ran some blood tests, did an ultrasound and found out that I had gall stones that had fallen into my pancreas. My gallbladder was kapoot. Not only that but the doctor said he couldn't believe I was actually conscious let alone that I walked into the ER under my own power. He told me that my pancreatic lipase levels were high. What the heck are pancreatic lipase levels? Come to find out that its an enzyme that essentially measures the health of your pancreas. Normal levels are between 0-50 and 160 is considered high. Mine were 82,000. My liver and kidney levels were also high. Normal is around 50 for both and mine were 5,000 and 8,000 respectively. My entire body was infected and I needed to have my gallbladder removed.

They couldn't get a surgeon to do it that same night so they scheduled it for the next morning. They took my gallbladder out and sent me to the recovery room. I ended up having to stay an extra night because my lipase levels weren't dropping enough and they wanted to monitor me until they were sure my levels were going to return to "normal". Turns out that having your gallbladder out is worse than having a c-section, and harder to recover from.

Fast forward to this March...

Halle got sick. Nothing special, all kids get sick. I took her into the insta-care and found out she had an ear infection and some sort of virus that is making her barf. A day or so later Annie got sick, barfing and all. Luckily, it didn't last long for Annie. But I swear, even the 24 hour bug feels like forever because it feels like you're doing laundry for the next 10 days. Both kids were feeling a little better so I decided to keep my bi-monthly hair appointment and drop my kids off at my mother-in-laws house.

Once I was at the salon I got this hair brained idea (no pun intended) that I wanted to go back to my natural color for a while to give my badly broken hair a break from all the bleaching. My natural color is a really dark, ashy blonde. I told the stylist my plans and she thought it was a brilliant idea. I told her that I didn't want anything with any red in it or anything too dark. I left the salon with dark brown hair with a red undertone which looked NOTHING like my natural color. I did NOT like it but I was determined to wait a few days and give it a chance. When I went to pick up the kids, my mother-in-laws face when she saw me said it all - she was horrified.

Later that night I started to feel sick. I was in the bathroom every 20 or 30 minutes from about 11:00 p.m. on and while I was running in and out of the bathroom the only thing I could think was "I hate my hair".

The next morning, after not sleeping all night long, I called my mom to come and get my kids because I was just so sick! Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Halle is still sick and throwing up so I called the doctor and asked my mom to take her in. Come to find out she has a condition called gastroenteritis, which causes kids to stay sick and keep barfing and having diarrhea unless the get enough fluid to flush it out. Only problem is, they can't have any dairy, juice, fruit or plain water - so all that's left is gatorade or pedialyte. Halle hates both so she's not staying hydrated enough and she is supposed to be drinking between 16-32 ounces a day. She's probably averaged 8 ounces a day if we're lucky. The poor thing has lost so much weight and is SO SKINNY! I called the doctor again and he didn't seem overly concerned but the poor thing is still constantly sick! And to top all that off, my washing machine broke and I can't wash ANY of the barfed on, pooped on or virused clothes!

It cost me $150 to get hair I hate and then have it redone, $75 in copays for all the numerous doctors visits we've made, $50 for all the medications we've needed and my washing machine is bound to cost $150 to have repaired - and it's only March 4th!

*March 5th* - Instead of costing us around $100 to get the washing machine fixed, it is costing us $511.00 + tax! The computer board went out which the repair guy said almost never happens (he's only ever seen one other) and he also said it is about the worst and most expensive repair you can do. Awesome.

Saturday, February 27, 2010

lamby toss...

It's amazing how a game called "lamby toss" (which involves tossing a stuffed lamb up and down the stairs) can entertain them for SO LONG! I'm glad it is entertaining them, don't get me wrong, but it is giving me a heart attack because Halle is standing at the very edge of the stairs when she tosses the lamb down and one of these times I'm sure she's going to toss herself down with it. I wish I were so easily entertained sometimes.

Saturday, January 2, 2010

don't shoot, here's a carrot...

This morning Preston went rabbit hunting. When Annie asked where her dad was I figured she was old enough to get the actual story. So I told her that he had gone rabbit hunting. She looked at me and asked what that was. I told her that sometimes there are too many rabbits and that sometimes there isn't enough food for all the rabbits so instead of the rabbits starving to death, people like daddy go and shoot them. She looked at me for a minute or so and then said "well, couldn't he just take them carrots"?