Wednesday, September 30, 2009
This was taken a few days ago right after she realized she could move around on her own. She has since become much more efficient in this technique; she moves faster and gets pretty far in a short amount of time! Of course, this leaves the outside fabric on her diapers looking raggedy. :D
Monday, September 28, 2009
A cute puppy was whelped January 25, 2003 in Kansas, born to dad Toto and mom Cherie Blos'M. His dad was wheaten in color and his mother brindle. The new puppy was wheaten with brindle.
Indy (Indiana Bones, sometimes nicknamed Indy 500) came to our home in December of 2004 and soon became a loved member of our family. (He worked himself into David's heart once he stopped peeing indoors.)(The dog stopped peeing indoors.)(Dave's allowed to pee indoors if it is into a toilet.)(Indy would have been allowed if it was into a toilet.)(Just clarifying.)(Ok, keep reading.)
An extremely intelligent dog, Indy knows at least 24 commands and tricks, a handful of silent signals, plus a dogzillion words. He was starting to pick up on some Spanish words and some of our code for "going for a walk."
Indy is very affectionate and wants to be with us all the time. He cries if we leave the house and he sees us through a window walking without him. He hops on his hind legs when he wants us to pick him up, like a toddler might do. He hangs out by our feet in the office, in the living room, under the kitchen table. He follows us wherever we go. He knows who "Daddy" and "Mommy" are. Ask him "Where's Daddy?" and he runs through the house until he finds David.
The challenge came when I gave birth to a baby girl 16 months ago and never really caught up to my new life, so Indy's training fell by the wayside. A couple months ago, I began to introduce some training ideas to him again, and then I became pregnant again (read: nauseous and exhausted), so training fell by the wayside (again), along with my patience as I tried to sneak in naps when my daughter napped.
Indy, has improved on a lot of things since my first post about him (when I was pregnant with Baby Dhis), but he still barks when a delivery truck rolls by (which is nearly everyday in my neighborhood), and barks up a storm when someone comes to the door. These are things he could get over in a week or two if I had the oomph to get up and do it. But I didn't. And I was getting annoyed, especially when it was naptime.
I got frustrated and placed a "for sale" ad online. Then, I forgot about it. The search for a sofa took over the rest of the day as Dave and I traveled to nearby furniture stores (that's another post).
Late that night, someone from out-of-state called on the ad asking questions about Indy. Dave took the call and answered his questions. After hanging up, we both realized we were not ready to let Indy go. The next morning, I took the ad off, decided he was here to stay, and went to church.
By the time we got home from church, the guy from the previous night had called 5 times. Uh oh. What would we say to him? I decided we should just tell him oh-we're-so-sorry and we-changed-our-minds and he's-not-for-sale. Soon after this thought, the phone rang again. The caller ID showed it was he. Dave answered. It was NOT he. It was his 11-year-old daughter, and she was super excited to see Indy.
DRATS! Dave and I were both thrown off. We hadn't planned on saying 'no' to a little girl! How could we? She was so excited she had called 5 times in an hour!
She asked us if we would meet them halfway north so she could see Indy. Dave asked if we could call her back. Dave hung up, and we both kinda lost it, not the teary lost-it, but the yelling lost-it. We yelled at each other for each of our faults in getting us to this situation, we fought about who was going to make the final call to this family, we yelled at each other some more just to yell. Neither of us knew what to do at this point now that a father had sold his daughter on owning this dog.
We yelled at each other some more for one or the other to come up with a solution. Dave stormed upstairs to think. He came back down. "Let's meet with them. A little girl will give him lots of love and attention."
Finally, I cried, and Dave sat sad in a chair. Neither of us were ok with this, but neither of us could deny that a transition for Indy into a good home had presented itself, instead of The Pound as some of our friends had done.
David called the family back. We tried to buy some time by letting them know he is past due for grooming, and he has an appointment this coming Wednesday, but that meant nothing to an 11-year-old girl set on getting a dog. We set a time to meet halfway upstate within a few hours.
I began gathering all of Indy's belongings, found his pedigree and microchip forms, washed his towels and pillow, and collected his toys from around the house. David gave Indy a bath and let him dry out in the sun. No time for a family photo. We headed up for Ogden. I cried. Dave was quiet. Once in a while, a billboard gave us something else to talk about.
At the designated freeway gas station, we met the dad and daughter. The dad told us that his little girl was obsessed with Indy's ad and photos. (Those are the photos I posted here.) She had been wanting a dog for a long time, had been saving up her money for 6 months, and had been checking the online classifieds every day.
Indy seemed confused and overstimulated by all the traffic and the constant petting from the girl. I was just trying to choke back emotions as I explained to the father what belongings and paperwork I was giving him.
Little Girl couldn't wait to hand us her wad of money making Indy officially hers. $100. Now, I had posted Indy for $200, but David misunderstood an earlier conversation we had and ended up giving them a $100 discount, which felt like a little kick in the stomach after all I was already feeling. But Dave, in exchange for the discount, had them promise two things: 1) to take good care of Indy and 2) that if they ever thought they could not keep him, that they call us to let us know and we'd come get him.
The second-to-last thing I saw was the little girl pulling him by his leash and he pulling towards us doing the same little cry he gives when we leave him at the groomer's. The last thing I saw was them driving away, Indy on the girl's lap doing his separation cry. I got into our car, exclaimed "I forgot to give him a hug!" and began sobbing.
I remember reading once that Joseph Smith had a dream that his dead brother Alvin was in Heaven with his favorite horse. David once told me that when he was a teen, he had his golden retriever Barkley promise to be his dog in Heaven (to which Barkley responded by putting a paw on Dave). I had thought Indy would be my dog in Heaven, but how could that be when he was going to spend more years with another family than he had with me? I felt so... so... petless. It makes no sense and sounds crazy but that's how I felt. On top of all this, all the emotions I had when our foster adoptive children were taken away rose up. I thought about my parents' current situation. Few relationships seemed permanent in my life.
The ride home was weird. My chest hurt. Dave felt a pit in his stomach. Coming home was weird. The entrance into the kitchen from the garage was empty where Indy's bed, food, and water used to be. The house was quiet. No click-clack of little claws hitting the linoleum. Going to bed felt out of sync. No letting a dog out to pee and then back into the house before turning on the house alarm. I just turned on the alarm and realized there was one missing little soul in our house.
I lied in bed, and in the moment right between wake and sleep, I heard Indy groan like he does sometimes when he's asleep on the floor by our bed. I bolted out of bed and looked for him and realized he couldn't have possibly found his way home and into our room.
I don't imagine those who have never loved a dog will understand the aching and pain we're feeling. Maybe those who have loved a dog will.
The good in this situation is this:
Indy is with a good family on a 3 acre lot in a very rural community in Idaho. The place is "in the county" and doesn't even have a name. The children are home-schooled, so they are always home to play and dote on him. They have another dog about his age to keep him company. There is always the "out" we gave them if they should ever feel like Indy needs to move on.
In some coming moment, the good will outweigh the heavy emotions. And hopefully, I'll end up with a dog in Heaven after all.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
But finally yesterday, I found in the KSL classifieds the living room set I have been wanting!
You know what happens when you find the thing you want on KSL. Someone else finds it first. I have been BUMMED ever since.
This has happened several times during my sofa search, which is several times too many considering how challenging it is to find something nice in the classifieds.
Oh, not that there aren't a plethora of options!
(Disclaimer: I am accepting the risk of offending some friend or neighbor out there who, I am unaware, has an exact copy of one of these sofas in their home. If you have such a sofa, I love you. I don't love your couch. Kiss kiss.)
~ Fancy castle furniture
~ The Let-Me-Tell-You-Just-How-Good-A-Deal-This-Is furniture
Although this style only debuted 4 or so years ago, is there any wonder why I found on this day 3 different people getting rid of this EXACT style?
~ Those titled as "Lovely" or "Beautiful" by a sweet little grandma.
~ A half-step above dumpster-diving
Then, there are sofas that create categories all their own:
I think if I was Elton John I'd like these.
I stared and stared but I still was unable to see the hidden 3D image.
I stared and stared but I was still unable to see the couch.
Hello, Couch? The 1970s called. Bobby Brady wants his pants back.
Hopefully, I will find something soon. The pregnant woman needs a place to chill.
[Posted song: "Bobby Brady Pants" by Sha-pink]
Friday, September 18, 2009
We stayed at the Green Valley Ranch Resort where the event was taking place. Since, I was still in the gotta-have-toast-in-the-morning craving, we brought a toaster with us. That is what fine, rich people do. When we arrived, the bell serviceman wrote down the number of bags on our claim ticket. I was so tickled when he hesitated before writing "toaster."
"When's the last time you had to write 'toaster'??" I asked.
"Never before!" He chuckled.
I've stayed at nice hotels before, but this is honestly the first one I've been in that had a doorbell for each room. I rang mine every time I came back to the room just to make use of it. When the bellhop rung it to bring in our luggage, I turned to my mom and said in my best hoity-toity voice, "Mother, will you please see who's at the door?" When he rung it to come get our luggage at the end of our stay, "Mother, I wonder who that could be."
Here's one thing that befuddles me about luxury hotels. Why is there a telephone next to the toilet? Are CEOs and celebrities constantly cutting deals while on the john? I never touch the thing because I don't know if the last guy used it before or after he took care of business. I also don't like how precariously close the cord hangs next to the seat. Ew.
The calibrated snack tray had an array of spirits, treats, and sensual accessories. A Snickers bar. Only $5. A tin of Swedish fish. Only $9. A slim cardboard envelope labeled with some pun on the word "booty." $25. I noticed the light coat of dust over the entire assortment.
The event itself was AWESOME! At the end of the first night, we were led through several exercises to pin-point and demolish old defeating beliefs that have kept us from doing what we have been wanting and needing to do in our lives. James also helped us develop compelling reasons to let go of the old beliefs. We each chose a new belief to replace an old one.
In connection, we were prepped for a board-breaking event to symbolize our breakthrough. I thought I had this one covered. They handed us our boards to write our old and our new beliefs, and I got a little nervous when I felt the 3/4" board but reassured myself with "thousands of people have done this before."
The excitement in the room was palpable as the first round of attendees broke their boards in half. My stomach flip-flopped as I got closer to the line. I watched the little old ladies ahead of me break their boards in half and cheered for them. On my turn, I stormed up to the board holder and gave him my board. He turned the old limiting belief toward me. I took my stance, synced my breathing and visualized my goal. WHAZAM!
My hand hurt. The board was intact.
Again. Stance, Breathe, Visualize. WHAZAM!
Hand throbbing. Board intact.
Third time. Fourth time.
My hand hurt like Hades as it turned red and begun to swell. I was flabbergasted.
I got some words of advice from a guy overseeing my event. WHAZAM!
I can tell you that the board not breaking was not in relation to the amount of force I was employing. My desperately throbbing hand and the smeared ink on my board told me that.
At this time, I began my slow descent into a breakdown.
"What if I can't do it?"
"I can't do it."
"My hand REALLY hurts."
I wanted to go away.
That's when one of the advanced coaches came up and said "you've been carrying this belief a long time." I nodded and started to tear up.
She continued, "it's time for it to go away." WHAZAM!
I really wanted to give up. It was midnight, my body felt weak, and I wanted to sit down and cry.
The coach shouted at the board holder to turn the board around to the new belief.
"Read it! This is who you are. Now, claim it."
That's when I just broke down. I asked for a couple seconds to stand there and cry.
I got back into my stance. Breathe, Visualize. WHAZAM!
Stance, Breathe, Visualize. I thought I saw the middle of the wood burning. WHAZAM!
Stance, Breathe, Visualize. I paused and watched the board burn a hole in the middle. I watched the hole get bigger. WHAZAM!
That's what my hand felt as it broke through the board and toward the boardholder's chest.
Everybody screamed. The board holder picked me up and swung me around. A bunch of onlookers gave my sore hand high-fives. It was glorious!
My board remnants were handed to me. Three pieces! Darn right.
So, this is what I learned from my own boardbreak breakdown breakthrough:
~ What I am capable of doing is not determined by how quickly I can do it.
It is dependent on my commitment to keep on the path, no matter how painful or hard it threatens to be.
~ Three strikes does not mean I'm out.
In the past, I basically gave myself three chances before moving on. Sometimes, the breakthrough occurs after 5 chances, 32 chances, or 101 chances. If it's a worthy goal, it's worthy of all chances.
~ I am more powerful than barriers.
Pain, when present, is only temporary and no match for commitment and intention.
~ There are worse things than physical scars.
After I broke my board and went back to my seat, I noticed just how bad my hand had gotten. Besides swelling, I had somehow cut into my wrist. My reaction in the past to physical injury has been to become over-consumed with concern. This time, something snapped. A scarred body is better than an unlived life.
~Others are cheering for me even when I am not aware of them.
There are always others cheering me on, whether I notice them or not.
~ "You always show up as you."
However you or I react in a situation is a pretty good indicator of how you or I will react in most situations. I realized I have quit many times right before a breakthrough because I didn't think I could handle anymore turbulence. I know now that taking one more step right past the point of Can'tHandleAnymore holds victory.
When did you last experience a breakthrough? What did you learn?
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Now, that you have that picturesque info...
I've been going through weird cravings this pregnancy. With Baby Dhis, I randomly craved gummy worms, ice cream, and Doritos. This time around... ooh, boy.
Recently, I was texting my husband while he was at work. I was going through another craving and NEEDED him to leave work NOW and come home WITH FOOD. But I did not know what I wanted. David kept asking and this was finally my reply:
I want the burritos my parents bought at Sam's Club when I was in high school.
See, now, is that so hard? I just wanted him to get into a time machine that takes him to Florida 15 years ago and get a warehouse club membership.
It was a while before he responded with:
The guys at work got a kick out of that comment!
Laugh it up, guys. Laugh it up.
This is what I finally "settled" for:
- One small cheeseburger from McDonald's.
- From Taco Bell, tacos ("some crunchy, some soft") and tater tots.
- From the grocery store, frozen burritos, veggie burgers, whole-grain bread and Drumstick ice cream cones.
Knowing my abhorrence for fast food joints, David was quiet on the phone, then asked, "Is this Adhis?"
He arrived home, exhausted from his many stops on the way home. Wouldn't you know it??? The burritos Dave "just grabbed" at the store were THE SAME ONES from Florida/high school/15 years ago! Different packaging, same manufacturer, same burritos! WAHOOOO!
When I need him, my husband really comes through, even through time.
Here are some other signs that I'm pregnant:
- I feel nauseous.
- I am thinking of crackers.
- I am eating crackers.
- I am sick of crackers.
- I am bloated from too many crackers.
- I've gained 10 pounds in two weeks.
- I've lost much of my vanity.
- I am tired.
- I am sleeping in a nest of pillows (although I never stopped this since the last pregnancy, much to David's chagrin.)
- I am about to take a nap.
- I just woke from a nap.
- I'm dreaming about a nap.
- My bed is full of cracker crumbs.
- Judge Alex is in my dreams, and he loves me dearly, but he's afraid of marriage.
- I want food.
- I want Doritos.
- I want ice cream.
- Maybe not.
- The thought of eating nauseates me.
- The thought of making a meal exhausts me.
- The dishes are piled in the sink.
- The clean clothes are piled in the laundry room.
- The dirty clothes are piled on the closet floor.
- The towels are piled in the bathroom.
- The baby's toys are piled in my office.
- I don't want to wear clothes.
- Clothes suck.
- I want to go outside without having to actually go outside.
- I am having flashbacks from my last labor.
- I want a doula-midwife who's a doctor that will deliver me in an exact replica of my bedroom at the hospital.
There are a few more, but I think now you know I'm pregnant.
Oh, and there's this:
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Pregnancy symptoms I didn't have until month 5 or 6 last time are here at month two. Swelling legs. Peeing at night. Bloating. Insomnia. Rapid weight gain. Waddling.
What's going on? Is it my age? Is it my declined fitness level? Is it twins?
Do you know how awkward it is when people find out I'm only 2 months along?
"Hey, Adhis! What's up?"
"I knew it! Your butt has been getting bigger!"
I'm only two months along.
"I mean big as in bootylicious. Like J-Lo. ...(pause) ... You're looking good. ... (longer pause) ... I gotta go."
What's going on with my body? I'm too tired and blagh to look up pregnancy stuff this time around. Just tell me, ladies.
I don't think I can do this again. What's going to happen to me if I get pregnant a third time?
Friday, September 4, 2009
Really, no one can do right if they are on the other team.
As many of you know, our current President of the United States plans on addressing children about education in a televised speech to be aired at schools this coming week. Many parents who disagree with many of the elected President's politics threw hissy-fits and forced several schools, including the one for my neighborhood, to forgo showing the speech.
The overall message? Don't listen to someone with whom you disagree.
Or ... Don't listen to him! I'll tell you already that I don't know what he's gonna say, but I'm sure it's stupid!
How long are these parents intending to send this message? For the remainder of this administration's term? What if the next president isn't to their liking? What do they suppose the consequence to this repeated message will be? What might their child learn to do when they disagree with their own parent? Their teacher? Their clergy? Their spouse?
People who are upset by the idea of their kids listening to the president of their own country for one measly day are insecure. They believe that their kids have no ability to discern, that they will be brainwashed. If your kids have no ability to discern, the problem is at home, not at the White House. Or, perhaps, you have the rare magical child who remembers what you told them after being told only once. (As far as I know, President Obama will not be planning on saying, "Look at me when I'm talking to you! If I've told you once, I've told you a hundred times! Do I have to tell you until I'm blue in the face??")
Instead of seeing this as an opportunity to open up dialogue with their children, some parents have freaked out and avoided an opportunity to add another teaching moment about respect for authority, interest in the political system, and common courtesy.
Parents: If you disagree with someone's beliefs, at minimum teach your children to disagree respectfully. If they disagree with their teacher, you wouldn't expect them to just not show up to class. If you disagree with a traffic cop, you wouldn't be expected to not show up to court. (Well, not without accruing fines or a warrant anyway.) Keeping a speech from the leader of your country out of schools is the equivalent of "not showing up." I don't believe your intent is to create a person who immediately shuns or ignores people who hold different points of view.
- M. Russell Ballard -
Had Mitt Romney become president and decided to address school kids, would there have been Southern Baptist groups up in arms? The same parents who called schools today whining about Obama's address would have written off the Southern as ignorant paranoids.
Teach your kids to listen and discern, not to invoke the blanket response of ignoring the Commander in Chief or whoever else they disagree with. You would be embarrassed if your child reacted like this to anyone. What better way for your kids to learn better strategies than from your example?
- Russell M Nelson -
Listening doesn't equate embracing the speaker's ideas. It doesn't even mean silent endorsement. At minimum, it is polite. At best, informative. Why the knee-jerk reaction?
- Dallin H Oaks -
- Statement of the First Presidency and the Quorum of the Twelve, Oct. 1992 -
It goes without saying (and yet, here I am saying it), your child will not always live in a community that readily understands their beliefs. Your child may not foresee the variety of value systems out there. Regardless, a well-adjusted child deals with differences courageously and compassionately.
I do not support any particular agenda or political party. I DO support behaving like adults and teaching children how to interact with others appropriately. I also support equipping children with the skills they'll need now and as they move through the diverse world.
How will they learn these skills? By segregation? Through censorship? They will learn through your careful teachings, and their knowledge will be cemented through their experiences.
For me, scarier than a one-time speech from a political figure with an "agenda" are parents who handicap their children's abilities to resolve differences. Scarier than that is a mob mentality in my own backyard.
Articles of Faith, 12
Regardless of your stance or feelings on the leader of your country, wouldn't this be a fantastic opportunity to watch the President's message (whether at your kids' school or online) and then discuss your family's beliefs? Would this not be a safe environment to teach your children HOW to discern as opposed to simply WHAT to think?
Teach your kids how to process thought and they will grow up to be adults who are less prone to jump to conclusions. They will have an easier time making friends. They will develop better communication and compassion. If you merely teach them what to think, they will be unsure of themselves when you aren't around. Or when your opinions change.
People we dislike and even people we love will say and believe things that we do not agree with. How and when will children learn how to respond and discern in these situations if what they hear is continually censored?
“Each of us is an individual. Each of us is different. There must be respect for those differences. …
“… We must work harder to build mutual respect, an attitude of forbearance, with tolerance one for another regardless of the doctrines and philosophies which we may espouse. Concerning these you and I may disagree. But we can do so with respect and civility.”
- Gordon B. Hinckley -
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Did you watch the movie? What did you think? Has anything changed?
I liked Food Inc. a whole lot more than I thought I would and highly recommend it! (Bring a tissue.)
Just when I thought I had heard it all and knew what this documentary would be about, it covered a whole other spectrum I was completely unaware of.
If any of these questions surprise or intrigue you, go watch the movie!
Ever wonder why the food you buy is priced as it is?
Why does it cost more to buy the makings of a salad over a box of cereal?
Did you ever think "someone should patent this banana"?
What if someone did -- and you could no longer grow your own bananas without facing stiff fines and possibly jail time?
What if your child became sick or died from eating uninspected food?
Would the Food & Drug Administration step in and make sure it didn't happen again? If they didn't, what would you do? Did you know the FDA does not have the power to close meat processors that distribute contaminated meat?
Did you know, depending on the state you live in, it's against the law to criticize the food industry?
What if you knew for sure a food was unsafe? How would you warn others?
Have you ever heard "every fruit in the season thereof"?
What do you think that means?
How do you feel about illegal immigration?
What if you found that illegal immigration is allowed to an extent on purpose?
Do you know anyone who has to pay hundreds of dollars a month for medication?
How do you think it is related to their grocery budget?
If you are outside of Utah, check out FoodIncMovie.com for a theater near you.
(The opening credits of Food Inc.)