Emily’s Musings

Hannah has an obsession with shoes. I can say it is an obsession because shoes have been the most important thing in her life for about nine months. People, that is like a 1/3 of her lifetime. Her cousin (who is two months older) has some flip flops, and of course, HANNAH LOVES THEM. Yesterday, the two of them had a toddler “sharing moment” where they just about pulled each others hair out to take possession of the one pair of shoes. Hannah was not happy to hear they didn’t belong to her, and of course, she had a meltdown.

Buying Hannah a pair of flip flops has been my number one priority since yesterday afternoon. It is amazing how picky my kid is about which shoes she likes, and which ones she will wear. I was tempted to ask my brother if I could buy the worn out flip flops that belong to her cousin, because she wants THOSE EXACT ONES. NOT NEW ONES. NO, THAT JUST ISN’T WHAT SHE WANTS. After Hannah went to bed, David and I set off on a mission to buy her some flip flops. ANYWHERE. After no success at a few stores, we ended up in Target and we found her a pair. I was so excited for her to see them, I wanted to wake her up and show her the new shoes when we got home.

When Hannah woke up this morning, I went into her room and told her I had a “present” for her.

“Present?” (because everything she says ends in a question)

“Yes, Honey. Daddy and I bought you a present.”

“See it?”

We sat her on our bed (and really, it kind of felt like Christmas morning) and handed her the bag to open. She exclaimed “shoes!” and “flip flops” again and again. We all waited for that happy moment when she would slide her foot into the shoe and all of our lives would be utter and complete utopia, for that one second.

TOO BAD HER FOOT WAS TOO FAT.

It was like an ugly step sister trying to fit into Cinderella’s tiny glass sipper, and really WE WERE ALL SO SAD. Taking the shoes away from Hannah was even more of a nightmare than the toddler spat she had with her cousin. How could we betray her? How could we give her something and then just TAKE IT AWAY? Because we are MEAN, MEAN, PARENTS, who desperately wished Target opened at dark thirty in the morning so we could exchange them.

We did make it over to Target this morning, and Hannah was in heaven trying on EVERY LAST PAIR OF SHOES ON THE RACK. We found her a suitable pair, but she was sort of disappointed that we didn’t buy her every pair she liked.

We ended up buying some stuff for our little guy, and the entire time we shopped, David said, “This is stressing me out.” Apparently, shopping for little clothes in the color of blue is very overwhelming. I mean ALL THE CHOICES OF BOY CLOTHING out there is just amazing. Only a man would think there were TONS of items to choose from at the store for little boys. Ask any woman, and I mean any woman, and she will agree with me that there is NO SELECTION for boys compared to the selection of girl stuff. In fact, every time I go to the store to buy stuff for this little guy, I CAN’T HELP BUT BUY SOMETHING FOR HANNAH.

I know why parents don’t take their kids to the store. BECAUSE YOUR KID WILL TALK YOU INTO BUYING THE ENTIRE STORE. Somehow, an exchange for $6.99 flip flops turned into $75.00 sale. As the items were rung up, I looked very closely at what we were buying. The only thing for David and me were two candy bars. Is this what people mean when they say, “Don’t let yourself go to pot when you have kids,” or “You are really going to have to make an effort to do things, and buy things for yourself after you have kids.”

Yeah, I think we demonstrated these points LOUD AND CLEAR today.

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There are a lot of pictures in this post. If pictures of my darling child aren’t your thing, then STOP LOOKING and save yourself some time. If they are your thing, then you just hit the jackpot.

This weekend (which was Memorial Day) we went to the Gateway Mall in SLC, along with EVERY OTHER FAMILY IN UTAH.

This is the jumping fountain. Hannah was not sure about it at all. And truthfully, sometimes it startled me.

We took Hannah to the Discovery Museum. Hannah was overwhelmed with the thousands of toys to play with, and the 10,000 kids that decided to attend the museum ON THE SAME DAY. One of the rooms had a bunch of balls to throw down pipes, and when Hannah saw all the out of control squealing kids, SHE FROZE. What do you do when you see so many kids? How do you play with so many balls? How do you fight your way into the crowd and play?

You don’t.

Hannah did what any other overstimulated, clean, organized child would do. SHE PICKED UP ALL THE BALLS AND PUT THEM BACK IN THE BOX. JUST LIKE THE EMPLOYEES. EXCEPT SHE WASN’T PAID.

Good girl Hannah. You know how much I LOVE and ADMIRE your very clean, organized side.

On the roof of the building was a helicopter.

Hannah LOVES helicopters. In fact, she talks about them almost daily, when she talks about airplanes.

She couldn’t stop pointing. When you look at these photos, keep in mind the ONLY attraction around her is the helicopter.

Yeah, IT WAS THAT COOL.

She is pointing here too . . .

and she is still pointing . . .

Have you seen how cool that thing is?

Hannah made a new friend, and she very thoughtfully pointed out the helicopter to this lady. BECAUSE SHE MAY NOT HAVE NOTICED THE VERY LARGE AIRCRAFT WITH HER OWN EYES.

Next time, we’ll save the money and not go the museum, but take her down to a municipal airport where she can see all the planes and helicopters she wants. FOR FREE.

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I am in LOVE with photoshop. I never did anything with Photoshop Elements when we got it because I HAD TO READ A MANUAL. AND THERE WERE TOO MANY WORDS. David found some tutorials online, (which kept me interested long enough to pay attention) and we have been transforming our photographs a little at a time now. Sadly, I just started utilizing Photoshop Elements and CS3 a few months ago, so I have a LONG WAY to go to get all the photos I care about looking decent. I must admit, I AM ADDICTED TO PHOTOSHOP. It’s like getting your eyebrows tweezed for the the first time, and suddenly, you wondered how you showed your face in public for all those years with such unruly brows.

I love this photography blog. I have downloaded all of her actions, and now, I am just LAZY when it comes to being creative on my own. Why do something from scratch when someone has already done it for you, and is GIVING IT AWAY FOR FREE?

This is a photo of Hannah right after she was born. Poor little thing came out with such long nails, she really did a number on her face before we got her wrapped her up like a burrito.

This is what the photo looks like after running it through CS3. No more scratches, and of course, transferred to black and white.

Hannah has crazy long lashes. I wanted to show more contrast with the lighting and the lashes, so I used an action from this site to create this:

I love the lighting now. It really shows the contour of her face, and her perfect delicate skin. And of course, you can’t miss those lashes!

This photo was okay, but I really wanted to make it more dramatic, showcasing Hannah.

This is what it looks like after using the PW B&W Beauty from this site.

David and I STILL want at Nikon D80, but since he is a med student, (no income, just a lot of out go) and I’m a stay at home mom, (a very hard job, but the pay is terrible) we only dream about the day when we can buy a professional grade camera. AND NOT FEEL GUILTY. Hopefully this camera will do for the next 30 years.

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Dear Hannah,

You are now 22 months old. Our family has had some big changes in the past two months, so this letter will have many pictures to show your development, and the major life changes you have endured like a champ.

First, your daddy graduated from the basic science program at Saba University School of Medicine. What does this mean? He is half way through med school which makes him half a doctor, or as we like to to call him, a “tor.” He will earn the “Doc” part when he graduates in 2010 when he becomes a REAL DOCTOR. We all can’t wait for that day.

With all big accomplishments, come big changes. That meant we had to leave our beautiful home on Saba, in the Caribbean. Saba was your first home. You have grown up as a Caribbean baby, playing with rocks, geckos, iguanas, and swimming in the ocean. As much as we loved it there, the only reason we could live in the Dutch West Indies for an extended period of time is if your dad was in school. Since he finished the program (thank goodness for that! I I would DIE if he became an eternal or professional student) we have moved back to the states where he will do clinical rotations.

(This is what a Caribbean baby tan looks like compared to a Utah baby tan.)

The whole family (including the whining dogs) arrived in Texas at the end of April. You traveled so well. It took 19 hours to get from our doorstep on Saba, to Daniel and Lydia’s doorstep in Texas. Not once did you have a meltdown, or cry, or bother the other passengers traveling on our plane. I owe you BIG TIME for that. Someday you are going to read this, and I’m sure you will remind me of how you were such a calm and easy baby, and then your are going to ask for something BIG. I know it.

We went sailing with a friend of ours in Texas. (Who is a dentist and tried relentlessly to convince your dad to go to dental school instead of medical school. He now refers to your daddy as a “real doctor” because apparently, dentist’s aren’t real doctors.) You LOVE boats, and the ocean, so we thought you would be very excited about this sailing excursion.

However, about five minutes into the sail, you said, “All done?” SEVERAL TIMES. Then you would point out other boats on the water and say, “SEE EM!” with all the energy you could find in your little body. I don’t think you realized you WERE ON A BOAT. When I pointed out the water, and told you we were on the ocean, you shook your head and said, “No?” I know I was telling a little white lie, like moms do from time to time, (like when you demand more marshmallows, and I tell you they are all gone even though there is an entire bag waiting for you in the pantry). You are smart enough to know the Caribbean ocean is CLEAR, and turquoise, not dark blue, and murky. When your daddy took you to the front of the sail boat, you looked back at me and said, “FUN!” Good, I’m glad you finally figured out what were were doing was fun.

It has been very interesting to see the world change through your eyes. The first couple of days in Texas, you asked me to go swimming, and you kept looking out the back sliding door asking me about the ocean. You would say, “Ocean? Go?” Again, and again. It broke my heart to tell you the ocean was all gone. You no longer talk about geckos, iguanas, the ocean, or going swimming. It makes me sad to think of the life we left, but it also gives me comfort that you have adapted to your new life of BIKES, WALKS, and SWINGS. THIS IS ALL YOU TALK ABOUT. ALL DAY. EVERY DAY.

(I’d like to point out that your dad put your hair in pig tails on this day. He is multi-talented.)

You are still obsessed with “messes.” Part of having fun at the park is cleaning off EVERY WOOD CHIP, ON EVERY STAIR.

Texas is known for BIG TRUCKS. In fact, I think Texas alone supports the BIG TRUCK industry. Driving around town, you would yell, “TRUCK!” every time you saw a truck. Which was like every other vehicle.

While eating at Taco Bell, (I had to have it because your baby brother was TOTALLY craving it and I had been deprived of such fine cuisine for over two years) you noticed some balloons tied to the back of all the chairs. I am embarrassed to say this, but at almost two years old, YOU HAD NEVER SEEN A BALLOON. You looked very thoughtfully at them and then exclaimed, “CIRCLES!” Yes, they are indeed circles that float up in the air. You poor thing, I will have TONS of balloons at your birthday party in two months. That is if my pregnant brain can remember something that important. You affectionately call them “a banoon.” Yes, you put an article in front of “banoon” every time you talk about them.

You are an excellent sleeper. In fact, I think your grandparents might start asking you for advice on how to sleep 12 hours a night. There was one night of adjustment when we got to Texas, and you had a meltdown when we put you in a Pak N’ Play at Daniel and Lydia’s house. I would ask you, “Where is Hannah’s bed?” and you would point to the portable crib, and cry, “Hannah’s bed!” Then I would ask you where mommy’s bed was, and you would point to the bed and cry, “Mommy’s!” After establishing the bed assignments, you relented, and went to bed just fine.

You were an excellent traveler driving from Texas to Utah. You sat for 22 hours, and really, I don’t even have the patience for that. We are now staying at your Grandma and Grandpa Lesher’s house in Utah. You made yourself at home quite quickly, living by the “toddler rule” which is, “WHAT’S MINE IS MINE, AND WHAT’S YOURS IS MINE.” Several times throughout the day, you will say, “Hannah’s!” Just to make sure that I KNOW WHAT YOUR PROPERTY LOOKS LIKE. It is amazing how much stuff is yours anyway, like kitchen utensils, tweezers, and the T.V. remote control. Speaking of the T.V., you never showed any interest in watching it on Saba. However, since finding grandpa’s (who you call “Demnis”) “Chase Lounge Chair,” you LOVE to watch T.V.

You’ll watch anything really. You just love to relax on that piece of furniture and tell grandma “watch it!” Because obviously it is grandma’s responsibility to turn the T.V. on for you. You follow your Grandma Gloria around all the time and tell her what to do. We refer to you as her “shadow.” You usually convince her to go for a walk, or to the playground by saying, “COME ON!” No one, even your grandma who has a bad back and is recovering from knee surgery, can resist your enthusiasm and charm.

You used your special charm on your grandpa “Demnis” by talking about bikes, ALL DAY LONG. You would look at him and nod your head yes, and say “BIKE!” with such enthusiasm, that he could not resist your darling little face. It only took two days of taking about bikes, and Dennis drove you down to the store and let you pick out a bike. WE ARE ALL GRATEFUL TO HIM. WE COULD NOT LOOK AT YOUR INNOCENT FACE ASKING ABOUT A BIKE ANYMORE.

You love to give us updates on your whereabouts or physical wellbeing. You point out when you get a “bonk” and then say, “Okay?” Just so that we know you are indeed, OKAY. If the injury is in need of a kiss, you will walk up to the closest adult and say, “kiss it?” Most of the time, we don’t know you had a “bonk,” but we are always glad for the update.

You are very sweet to me, and point out where baby brother is ALL THE TIME. Probably because you can’t miss my belly, and that is indeed where he is. You kiss my tummy, and then point out that you also have a baby in your belly. Fortunately, you just have a belly with no baby.

You love to exercise on Grandma and Grandpa’s machines. You have named one machine “Daddy’s” and one machine “Mommy’s and Grandma’s.” Because obviously, those are the only machines we work out on.

Your hair was a mop. Well, more like a BIG MESS, and I know how you feel about messes. Your aunt Rachelle cut your hair the other day, giving it some shape. You had no idea what was going on, you just wanted to play with your tea set. You didn’t sit very still, but your hair turned out darling.

You attended nursery at church for the first time a few weeks ago. I knew you would like it, but I was totally wrong. BECAUSE YOU LOVED IT. What more could a kid want besides toys, other kids to play with, and snacks? When I went in to pick you up after your first time attending, you took one look at me and said, “GO AWAY!” That’s always a nice way to greet your mom. WHO ENDURED 30 HOURS OF LABOR, 40 PREGNANCY POUNDS, AND MAJOR MASTITIS FROM THE GET GO. Maybe you turned out to be such a good sleeper and traveler to even the score. I guess I don’t owe you big time anymore.

A few weeks ago, your dad and I had a Family Home Evening (commonly referred to as F.H.E. where we talk and learn about gospel principles) and I showed you a picture of Jesus being baptized by John the Baptist in the River Jordan. You took one look at the picture and said with exuberance, “JESUS! SWINGING!” which really means “swimming.” You are so innocent and darling, your dad and I couldn’t help but laugh. And yes, Jesus was indeed sort of swimming in the picture.

You are bursting with words every day, and copy everything we do. We love you so much, and we hope you will happily share us with your little brother when he arrives in a few weeks.

Here are some of your new words:

• I need it!
• See it?
• Get it?
• See ‘em?
• I did it!
• Watch it!
• Prayers
• Truck!
• Flag!
• Close it
• Church
• Focus
• Make it!
• Come on!
• Come ‘ere!
• All done?

We love you so much!

Love,

Mommy

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This was an emotional filled weekend. There are a lot of strong personalities in my family, and when all nine siblings get together (or even just a few of us) you can guarantee a weekend of tears, misunderstandings, and miscommunications. Because a few of my family members read this blog, I won’t go into the details of this weekend that had me in tears, and running out of my parents’ house. There are always two sides to every story, and everyone has their own perception, which of course, is always correct.

Amongst all this confusion, I still had a great time visiting with my favorite sister Jenn who came up to Utah from California to visit this weekend. She timed her trip to see me, my sister Charmain (who was visiting from Indiana) and my sister Allison (who moves to Kansas tomorrow) all during the same weekend.

Although Jenn is 10 years older than me, we have been BFF’s since I can remember. She got married when I was nine (Yeah, that would make her 19 years old when she got married, and I followed in her footsteps 10 years later by getting married at 19 myself, on the EXACT same day she did. Neither of those coincidences were planned) and my whole world changed, because I had to share her with her husband, Scott. Life was so hard at the tender age of nine . . .

Jenn and I talk A LOT, almost every day or so. And I’m just going to set the record straight here, Jenn is a LONG talker. This is no surprise to her, or anyone that knows her. It is who she is, and even if she tried, it would be impossible for her close a conversation in 10 seconds. Because to say goodbye on the phone takes at least 15 minutes. I love this about her, even when I try to tell her again and again that my dogs ran off, or I have to get in the shower, or someone is on the other line, or that my house is burning down, and I REALLY should call 911. She never rushes me off the phone and I never feel like I’ve caught her at a bad time. It’s almost like her whole day is catered to my call, and the world MUST STAND STILL. Because we have important things to talk about like, Hannah, and expensive night cream, and food, and crazy people, WHO ARE NOT US.

Jenn loves Hannah and if I don’t keep a close watch on my little one, I might find her sneaking off to California with Hannah in tow.

We have both wondered why we weren’t twins, and why I have Brian for a twin. My twin, Brian, is like Ashton Kutcher. He acts like him, he kind of looks like him, and they both like women who are 12 years away from their age. Where Ashton likes his women older, Brian likes his young . . . and impressionable. Brian, who is now 30 (you know, because he is my EXACT age), likes to date 19 year olds.

The other night, he took both Jenn and me to dinner. He walked in to the restaurant in workout clothing that only single people work out in. What you wear to the gym definitely says “I’m single” or “I’m frump a dump and taken.” Apparently, I looked more of the part of “frump a dump 8 months pregnant mom” because he said:

“Em! You’re looking big!” (as if I had never seen my large, round pregnant self in a mirror)

“When are you due? Next month?”

All I could say was, “Yeah dude, I’m due next month, on JUNE 38th.”

And my twin brother pointing out my very large body was not even what brought me to tears this weekend. It was actually the comical part.

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Daniel and Lydia had their baby last Monday (exactly one week ago) in Fort Worth, Texas.  I am a little late posting this, but I am not entirely lame because I am posting about it now.

This is the paragraph where I would write about how fun and cute she is, and how the new parents are coping.  But since I fled Texas about two weeks ago, I can’t tell you about any of that stuff because I am not there to exaggerate write about this exciting time for them.

David and I are so proud of them.  Not only did they birth a baby after 14 years of swearing off kids, but they ACTUALLY DECIDED ON A NAME.  The Goutchkoff - Tague household did not give their child 10 first names, or even two last names . . . I am still in shock over that one.  The name was undecided (even the last name) until she was born.  I’m just so glad her parents MADE a decision and I can call her by name instead of “Lydia and Daniel’s baby.”

Here she is:

Darby Rose Tague.  Born Monday, May 12, 2008.  Weighing in at 7 lbs. 11 oz.

She is so cute!  I just want to kiss those cheeks and touch her soft hair!  Congratulations Daniel and Lydia!  We’re so glad you are part of the “parenting world!”

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Although I have been tired, I haven’t added “frustrated” to my list of “ailments.” Since last Sunday, I haven’t had to endure listening to ENDLESS commercials on the radio. You see, my very “thoughty” husband remembered me saying that I “might” want XM radio in our car. I don’t know, maybe it was the 22 hours we spent together in our car driving from Texas to Utah that reaffirmed to us that we HATE FLIPPING THROUGH RADIO STATIONS, and listening to THE ENDLESS STATIC that was usually playing on EVERY station.

Last week, David found the perfect excuse to buy him/us me a digital radio for our car: Mother’s Day. And while I have throughly LOVED listening to commercial free radio, a teeny tiny part of me wonders how much this gift was for him me. It reminds me of the time I bought him some Tweezerman Tweezers as a stocking stuffer for Christmas. Although he CONSTANTLY used my Tweezerman Tweezers, he didn’t seem over the top excited about getting his own pair. And truthfully, I must admit, a teeny, tiny, part of me purchased them for selfish reasons. Mine were getting dull, and I bought him the razor sharp pointed ones. I TOTALLY NEEDED THEM TO TAME MY WILD BROWS. I’m sure he was happy to share them with me to contribute to my personal grooming.

My husband is a wonderful, very attentive man. I can’t think of a better match for me. But sometimes, all the information he has learned in medical school puts a cramp in my style. You know, he passes along T.M.I. For example, I don’t see anything wrong with aspartame. Apparently it can be bad, you know, for PREGNANT PEOPLE. I mean, who cares if it is in Diet Dr. Pepper? That drink alone usually improves the quality of my life 100% within minutes. How could that drink be viewed as bad? And all the sugar free gums have aspartame too. Not that I am a gum chewer by any means, (truthfully, I have chewed gum maybe twice in the last 11 years) but I bought some gum (I have no idea why) the other day and when he saw that it had that “very bad magical ingredient,” I was cautioned NOT TO EAT IT. Basically, in code he said: OUR KID’S BRAIN IS GOING TO BE SHRIVED UP AND HE WILL DIE. I know, DRAMATIC! However, I informed David that if that one particular ingredient was so bad, “That infamous council of They” would have said something by now. Because “THEY” are the expert on everything. Surely, a big stink would have been made about aspartame and EVERY PERSON ON THE PLANET would know how bad it was for pregnant women. Kind of like alcohol, tobacco, fish only once a week, no hot tubs, etc.

I don’t want to give my husband a heart attack, so I really try to avoid such products that contain that very bad “ingredient.” However, I will have a Diet Dr. Pepper when it is the only option, and I have chewed almost the entire pack of ASPARTAME FILLED GUM. I can be so rebellious. Here is the deal, I am not trying to be negligent, I just know that if I concerned myself with every possible “red flag” regarding what I eat or what I should “not do,” I would be bedridden, eating ice chips only. That is of course, assuming that the ice chips came from a fresh spring from an undiscovered mountain to ensure NO CONTAMINATION.

Although I complain about David and his T.M.I, I secretly love that he is so attentive and concerned about me and the well being of our new little guy. He really does wait on me hand and foot, and I’m not going to sugar coat this, I CAN BE A PRETTY DEMANDING WIFE. AND I AM TOTALLY FINE WITH THAT LAST SENTENCE.

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A week has flown by and I am now just realizing I haven’t posted anything. Truth is, life is full, and I haven’t carved out any writing time. I am tired. I remember being tired when I was pregnant with Hannah, but since she was my first, I could take a nap all day if I wanted. That is so not the case now. Although I have great help while we are staying with David’s parents, I do not expect them to care for Hannah 24/7 while I rest.

David is studying for the USMLE Step One exam all day, everyday.

Hannah is busy and important ALL DAY, between her naps. (Thank goodness for the naps and early bedtime or I would never have any “Emily time.”)

I have no energy or motivation. Before we got to Utah, (while we were still on Saba) I had big plans of cooking for David’s family, cleaning, going to the park, going for long walks on a FLAT sidewalk, and playing with my dogs. So much for those plans. I barely have enough energy to shower and blow dry my hair. Making a meal consists of giving Hannah a yogurt, and pouring me a bowl of cold cereal.

On a separate note, we met with the doctor we plan to use to deliver this baby. We have scheduled a c-section for this baby the first week in July. (Please, for those of you who are totally aghast that I would have another c-section, please, keep your comments to yourself. I would like to live, and I would like my baby to live, and with the current pregnancy complications, this is what the Dr. said we are doing. No choice. I am TOTALLY FINE WITH THAT. I couldn’t push Hannah out at 8 1/2 pounds after 30 hours of gruesome labor. I am smart enough to NOT repeat that experience.)

I started to feel a little unprepared when we scheduled the date to have this kid. I mean, In 6 1/2 weeks, I will have this little guy, and I haven’t purchased anything for him! Yesterday, Gloria (my mother-in-law) and I went to Babies R’ Us to stock up on supplies. I am feeling much more prepared. I have a nursing pillow, diapers, and some onesies and P.J.’s for him. What more does he need?

Life is busy, and when I’m not writing, I’m reading a good book (just finished one this morning). If you don’t see any posts, then you can assume I purchased every book I ever wanted to get my hands on at Barnes and Noble, and I am soaking up the little free time I have before the “new boss” arrives.

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I am indeed alive. Life has taken some crazy turns in the last few days, and I have not taken the time to sit down and write about it. Here’s the crazy stuff: I am currently in Utah, which was NOT part of of the plan as of last Sunday. I am on “extra rest” (not to be confused with bed rest), and I actually had to live without internet access for TWO WHOLE DAYS. That was torture.

Why am I in Utah? Why is it mandatory that I relax? And WHY ON EARTH DID I HAVE TO GO WITHOUT THE INTERNET? Yeah, I’m still bummed about that last one.

I ended up in the emergency room on Sunday night. I learned something interesting about being pregnant. If you are pregnant, and end up going to the emergency room, you are treated like a V.I.P. You don’t actually wait in the “real emergency room.” You are taken to the maternity ward and are seen immediately. That was nice. I’m not a night person, so sitting around waiting and waiting to be seen by some doctor was not something I had to endure. Because this is a public blog, and there are many readers I don’t know, I will not go into all the personal gory details of why I went to the emergency room, what happened, and what I was told to expect throughout the last eight weeks of this pregnancy. I’m just not that kind of girl that spills all of my personal health issues to perfect strangers. Even if they are interested.

However, I will say that I had three ultrasounds on Sunday night. Each machine fancier and more detailed than the previous. The baby is fine, but I need “extra rest” (which shouldn’t be a problem since I mastered the art of LAZINESS in the Caribbean), and I can’t lift anything over 10 pounds. Hannah is a TANK, weighing in a 31 pounds, so I can’t lift her. This posed a problem when I told the doctor my husband was leaving the next day (Monday) to drive to Utah with our two dogs, all of our hud, and I was staying in Texas for a couple  more weeks to help a friend of mine with her new baby (who was due yesterday, but still hasn’t delivered.) I obviously couldn’t care for Hannah 100% (since I couldn’t lift her into her crib) and I would have big problems at the airport because I couldn’t lift/carry anything over 10 pounds (which is probably what my purse weighs), or carry Hannah through security, or lift her onto my lap while flying.

I felt terrible to leave Lydia at such a crucial time in her life, but I knew I had to take care of myself, or I could very possibly end up with a pre-term baby. We arrived home from the ER at 12:30 AM, and by 1:00 PM Texas time, the whole family (including one sedated dog, Kyaha, who vomits in the car unless given drugs) headed for Utah.

We made the 19 hour drive in 22 hours. We stayed overnight at a ghetto Motel 6 in Albuquerque, New Mexico (because it is pet friendly) and my skin just crawls with yuckiness as I think about it. I’m just not a Motel 6 kind of girl. Never have been, and never will be. As per doctor instructions, we stopped every two hours so I could walk around for 10 minutes. But trust me, my 7 month pregnant bladder was the boss of this trip, and at times, two hours was a VERY LONG TIME between potty breaks. Hannah and the dogs also enjoyed all the stops. We all got to walk around many different parking lots, like crazy people, walking in circles, with no purpose.

Hannah was an excellent traveler, and she only protested getting in the car once. After 20 1/2 hours of driving, she had ENOUGH. She told us in toddler terms (you know, like a TANTRUM) THERE IS NO WAY YOU’RE GETTING ME BACK INTO THAT CAR SEAT! We were in Price, Utah at this time, and we convinced her that grandma had toys, and LOTS OF THEM. She talked about toys and grandma for 90 straight minutes. The second she walked through the door of David’s parents’ house, there was no “Hi!,” or hug from Hannah, she immediately demanded, “TOYS!”

Boy am I glad this house is stocked with good toys. I’m sure Hannah would never have forgiven us for lying to her about such an important thing.

We obviously had no internet while we were traveling for 22 hours and of course, the ghetto place we stayed did not offer such a luxury. We couldn’t even pick up the wireless from the lobby. Maybe they don’t have internet. I wouldn’t be surprised.

We have been in Utah for three days now. David took a day to do a bunch of paperwork (like getting us on insurance) to get us settled in here as residents. I have unpacked everything, and as of this afternoon, we don’t have piles of stuff on the floor of our bedroom. I can’t live with piles. Everything has a place, and when I’m too tired to put things back in their place, I tell my full time assistant (David) to put things back in their proper place. He is very good at tasks I give him. I’d like to think that he feels the same way about clutter that I do, but something tells me he doesn’t like the crazy person I turn into when things are out of place. Whatever the motivation, at least the job gets done. Right?

It feels good to be settled. I meet with the doctor next week who I plan to use to deliver this baby, (I sure hope I like him. At 32 weeks prego, I can’t be too picky and change this late in the game) and hopefully he gives me good news. I don’t mind the “extra rest” business, but I really want to pick up my daughter. I hope these restrictions are just temporary and not for the next eight weeks.

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We have been so busy relaxing and enjoying life with our friends in Texas, I have fallen behind on posting about my last few days on Saba.

Let’s start with the annoying stuff.

First, the new neighbors that moved in next door had EXTRA LOUD DOGS THAT BARKED. A LOT. David and I like a quiet life, and one of the main reasons I was drawn to the breed of our dogs (Whippet) was because THEY DON’T BARK. Unless, of course, they absolutely have to. I was ready to leave Saba after enduring one evening of painful, ear curling, dog fight barking. The awful howl certainly dissipated the serene sound of our coconut tree, and the sound of the ocean. I DID NOT MOVE TO THE CARIBBEAN TO HEAR MY NEIGHBOR’S DOGS BARK CONSTANTLY.

On days where there is no wind, you can bet your house will be filled with “calm weather bugs” after the sun sets. Really, “calm weather bugs” are flying ants that are drawn to the light and they infiltrate your house. They are mostly annoying, but I HATE IT WHEN MY HOUSE IS FILLED WITH BUGS, EVEN IF THEY ARE HARMLESS.

The internet was disconnected a day earlier than we specified with the phone company. VERY ANNOYING. The phone company people just happened to be near our house working and it was “convenient” to shut off the internet because IT WOULD BE TOTALLY INCONVENIENT TO DRIVE ACROSS ALL FIVE MILES OF THE ISLAND TO TURN OFF THE INTERNET ON THE RIGHT DAY. We were ticked. We CANNOT live without internet. After David called the company to have a little chat with them, the internet was turned on within a couple of hours, which was record time by Saba standards.

And finally, the MOST annoying thing of all . . . I had to go to the bank. Those of you who have been to a bank on Saba are thinking, “ENOUGH SAID!” I walked into the bank with two Ziplock® baggies full of loose US coins and Guilder coins. While I waited patiently in the lobby with my two clear Ziplock® baggies full of change, it took the ONE AND ONLY bank teller over 20 minutes to help the three customers in front of me. When I finally got to the teller, she told me they didn’t accept loose coins. I actually asked her if she knew that we were IN FACT, IN A BANK. She then clarified, and said I needed to bring the coins in rolled. When I asked her for some paper rolls, she said I needed to make my own. Yes, make my own out of printer paper. Does anyone see anything wrong with the situation? Couldn’t I just wrap up a bunch of funny money and turn it in? Does this bank not believe in accuracy or quality control? Obviously not. AND WHY ON EARTH DID THEY LET ME SIT THERE FOR OVER 20 MINUTES EVEN THOUGH THEY KNEW THEY COULDN’T HELP ME?

The teller directed me to the “other bank” on the island, which was conveniently 100 feet away. This bank DID in fact take my loose coins and turn it into hard, cold US currency. However, all banks are crazy on Saba, and I certainly didn’t walk away without scratching my head. The new bank ASKED ME FOR A PHOTO ID. TO MAKE CHANGE. AN EVEN EXCHANGE OF CURRENCY. YOU KNOW, TO PROVE THAT I WAS INDEED A PERSON, NOT A STUFFED ANIMAL. Whatever. I happily showed off my Texas pride by providing them with my Texas license.

Now, for the memorable stuff.

There is a great restaurant called Swinging Doors. Pat and Eddie own it, and they make EXCELLENT BBQ. Pat and Eddie refer to us as “Hannah’s mom and dad” because, like I have stated before, we are INVISIBLE when Hannah is around.

This is Eddie and Pat.

This is Eddie working his magic on the grill.

They are only open for dinner on Tuesday and Friday night, so we got some friends together (who were still on the island during the semester break) and had one last BBQ dinner on the Tuesday before we left. The food is delicious.

I certainly will miss eating at this place. We really do have wonderful memories of Saba.

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