As parents, you're constantly warned that your children will start copying you--in act and speech. You don't believe it until it actually happens, usually in the form of a bad word at church. But you beam at the times that your child actually mimics something that you've been doing, even if the thought process is a little off.
For example, Josh and his grandma made a batch of playdoh last week. There is a set schedule of activities that Josh must do--at his own admission--when he goes to grandma's house to be babysat while I endure a boring lecture on Friday mornings. One of these activities is to play with playdoh--but as I understand it, it's more Grandma makes birds out of playdoh and Josh then plays with the birds. In any case, the playdoh was gone last week when he went there, so they made a batch of it. Josh got to take home (grandma's) birds and nests and eggs with him. We got the playdoh out this afternoon so he could make a cake with it. (At our house, he makes cakes. At Grandma's, it's birds. Never birds at our house and cakes at her house. Go figure.) So, I left him to his own devices as I worked on the computer for a few hours (the boy has an incredible attention span).
A while later, I went in to check on him and he was "cleaning" up. However, the playdoh was not to be found. I casually asked him (while inside I was frantic--does playdoh flush down a toilet? Does it eventually dissolve if it's stuffed inside a sink?) where it went. He, just as casually replied "in the garbage. I was done playing."
A few weeks back, I had bought him some playdoh from the store. He kept getting it on the floor and on the bottom of his feet (don't ask) and then tromping it all over the carpet. So I threw it away. He was a little sad, but seemed to get over it fast enough. Apparently, he thinks that when you're done playing with playdoh it goes in the garbage. Fair enough. At 74 cents a jar, I can indulge in this little hobby every once in a while if it means not having to pick it out of the carpet.
The thought process might be a little off, but the kid has the right idea. Score one point for Josh.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Weird Craving #1 and Maybe #2
With this baby I haven't been prone to a lot of cravings. No midnight runs to the grocery store or sending Wade out in a rain storm to fetch me more chocolate. I have developed a taste for peaches. But, I usually do in the late summer when they're at their best. I ate a lot of salad early on, but I really like salad on any given day, so that's not really that different either.
A couple of weeks ago, I noticed something weird. I crave ice. And it's not the water per se. It's the crunching of the ice. We make all our own ice using those outdated ice cube trays that only my in-laws and us have anymore. I'm not even sure you can still buy them at the store should you ruin one. And until a few weeks ago, I could take the ice or leave it. I've been known to drink soda straight out of the can from the pantry. But, I can't seem to get enough ice. So much so, that I've been buying bags of ice at the grocery store. The ice pieces are smaller than our homemade ice cubes and there's a lot more of it. I'll go through a bag every couple of days. Then it's back to the ice trays until I make it to the store again. At dinner this evening, Wade opened the freezer to get some ice for his drink and said "where did all the ice go?" I casually responded "It's the weirdest craving." And left it at that. I realized it was becoming a problem when, after dinner, I sucked down my ice, his ice, and preceded to empty the ice bin of all remaining ice shards. The upside of this craving is that ice would be considered healthy. This should counterbalance craving #2.
Milky Way Bars. I could eat a king size Milky Way Bar every day. Only one, though. It's the perfect size. Any more than that one and it's too much. But, the 460 calories, 18 g of fat that these suckers punch is perfect for me and my growing belly. Why not just eat 30% of my daily fat in one sitting? Would save so much time, right? The kicker is that I wasn't partial to Milky Ways before. In fact, I wasn't a big candy bar person before. But, I have to physically restrain myself sometimes from indulging in a Milky Way. Not that I restrain myself all that much (Another Milky Way bar? Yeah, you have a problem with that?).
With Josh it was popcorn. I craved popcorn--ate a bowl of it nearly every night after work. Even now, I still really like it. After he was born, I ate a six pound bag of gummy bears a week for about 3 months. Though I still like gummy bears, I certainly don't eat them at that rate anymore.
I've read somewhere that cravings are your body's way of getting you to eat something that it's lacking for the developing fetus. Maybe salt in popcorn or calcium in ice cream. But, I'm having a hard time trying to see the logic behind the Milky Way bars.
A couple of weeks ago, I noticed something weird. I crave ice. And it's not the water per se. It's the crunching of the ice. We make all our own ice using those outdated ice cube trays that only my in-laws and us have anymore. I'm not even sure you can still buy them at the store should you ruin one. And until a few weeks ago, I could take the ice or leave it. I've been known to drink soda straight out of the can from the pantry. But, I can't seem to get enough ice. So much so, that I've been buying bags of ice at the grocery store. The ice pieces are smaller than our homemade ice cubes and there's a lot more of it. I'll go through a bag every couple of days. Then it's back to the ice trays until I make it to the store again. At dinner this evening, Wade opened the freezer to get some ice for his drink and said "where did all the ice go?" I casually responded "It's the weirdest craving." And left it at that. I realized it was becoming a problem when, after dinner, I sucked down my ice, his ice, and preceded to empty the ice bin of all remaining ice shards. The upside of this craving is that ice would be considered healthy. This should counterbalance craving #2.
Milky Way Bars. I could eat a king size Milky Way Bar every day. Only one, though. It's the perfect size. Any more than that one and it's too much. But, the 460 calories, 18 g of fat that these suckers punch is perfect for me and my growing belly. Why not just eat 30% of my daily fat in one sitting? Would save so much time, right? The kicker is that I wasn't partial to Milky Ways before. In fact, I wasn't a big candy bar person before. But, I have to physically restrain myself sometimes from indulging in a Milky Way. Not that I restrain myself all that much (Another Milky Way bar? Yeah, you have a problem with that?).
With Josh it was popcorn. I craved popcorn--ate a bowl of it nearly every night after work. Even now, I still really like it. After he was born, I ate a six pound bag of gummy bears a week for about 3 months. Though I still like gummy bears, I certainly don't eat them at that rate anymore.
I've read somewhere that cravings are your body's way of getting you to eat something that it's lacking for the developing fetus. Maybe salt in popcorn or calcium in ice cream. But, I'm having a hard time trying to see the logic behind the Milky Way bars.
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Another Installment of Dialogues with a 3 Year Old
It's no secret that Josh is afraid of the dark. He sleeps with his overhead light on every night. He won't walk down the hall if it's dark. Aside from the inconvenience this provides for us parents, it's the dialogue that results from reasoning with him about the dark that makes it just funny.
Take for example the other day when he wanted to retrieve something from his room. He led me by the hand down the hall because his room was dark. I asked him what we could do to remedy the situation. He thought for just a second, reached up to the light switch and said:
"It'd help if I turned the light on."
Just like that. And in the same tone of voice that implies "dude, could you help me out here? This isn't rocket science."
Another example was this morning. The power went out about 6 am. This caused Josh to awaken because his overhead light went out. He ran over to the light switch and then the wailing began:
"It's broken. Mommy, daddy, the light's broken."
Wade ran in to see if everything was okay and Josh said "put batteries in. It's broken daddy."
He was brought back to our room and given a flashlight. That seemed to placate him for a bit until he wanted to watch Barney and we tried to explain that the power was out. "Put batteries in." Batteries, apparently, are like band-aids. They fix everything.
Take for example the other day when he wanted to retrieve something from his room. He led me by the hand down the hall because his room was dark. I asked him what we could do to remedy the situation. He thought for just a second, reached up to the light switch and said:
"It'd help if I turned the light on."
Just like that. And in the same tone of voice that implies "dude, could you help me out here? This isn't rocket science."
Another example was this morning. The power went out about 6 am. This caused Josh to awaken because his overhead light went out. He ran over to the light switch and then the wailing began:
"It's broken. Mommy, daddy, the light's broken."
Wade ran in to see if everything was okay and Josh said "put batteries in. It's broken daddy."
He was brought back to our room and given a flashlight. That seemed to placate him for a bit until he wanted to watch Barney and we tried to explain that the power was out. "Put batteries in." Batteries, apparently, are like band-aids. They fix everything.
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Book Review Friday 10/3/08
Book: Water for Elephants
Author: Sara Gruen
Pages: 368
This was a very intriguing book that I have to admit I wasn't looking forward to reading. However, I've heard so many people talk about it, I figured I should at least try it. I'm glad I did.
Jacob Jankowski's life is forever altered when, six days before graduating from Cornell with his veterinary degree, he is informed of the untimely death of his parents in an automobile accident. In a fit of grief and uncertainty, he hops a train in the middle of the night, only to find that he's on the Benzini Brothers Most Spectacular Show on Earth circus train as they travel through to the next show.
He stays on, working odd jobs until he lets it slip that he almost had his veterinary degree. Jacob is made into the circus vet and moves up in the social class of the circus world. He encounters a lot of strange people and made some lasting friendships that would be tried over the course of the circus season.
Set during the Depression and Prohibition Era, where much of the country was in a state of constant turmoil, it was interesting to read about the circus trains that I had only heard about. What made it more interesting was that we had just attended the circus last week. While many of the acts have changed dramatically, we couldn't help but wonder why you would ever join the circus in the first place. Many theories abounded, and most of them were proven true in this fictional account.
The story is told from the viewpoint of 93 year old Jacob, who is in a rest home. I couldn't help but love the "old" Jacob because he reminded me of my grandma in so many ways. I loved the ending and didn't really see it unfolding quite like the way it did. That probably added to the likeability factor.
While there were some questions that went unanswered--why can't Old Fart McGuinty possibly have carried water for elephants?--for the most part, this wrapped up quite nicely.
I'd certainly recommend this book to anyone, however a word of caution. There are some explicit scenes and descriptions that were kind of icky--and it takes a lot to ick me out. But overall, this was a very intriguing and delightful read.
Author: Sara Gruen
Pages: 368
This was a very intriguing book that I have to admit I wasn't looking forward to reading. However, I've heard so many people talk about it, I figured I should at least try it. I'm glad I did.
Jacob Jankowski's life is forever altered when, six days before graduating from Cornell with his veterinary degree, he is informed of the untimely death of his parents in an automobile accident. In a fit of grief and uncertainty, he hops a train in the middle of the night, only to find that he's on the Benzini Brothers Most Spectacular Show on Earth circus train as they travel through to the next show.
He stays on, working odd jobs until he lets it slip that he almost had his veterinary degree. Jacob is made into the circus vet and moves up in the social class of the circus world. He encounters a lot of strange people and made some lasting friendships that would be tried over the course of the circus season.
Set during the Depression and Prohibition Era, where much of the country was in a state of constant turmoil, it was interesting to read about the circus trains that I had only heard about. What made it more interesting was that we had just attended the circus last week. While many of the acts have changed dramatically, we couldn't help but wonder why you would ever join the circus in the first place. Many theories abounded, and most of them were proven true in this fictional account.
The story is told from the viewpoint of 93 year old Jacob, who is in a rest home. I couldn't help but love the "old" Jacob because he reminded me of my grandma in so many ways. I loved the ending and didn't really see it unfolding quite like the way it did. That probably added to the likeability factor.
While there were some questions that went unanswered--why can't Old Fart McGuinty possibly have carried water for elephants?--for the most part, this wrapped up quite nicely.
I'd certainly recommend this book to anyone, however a word of caution. There are some explicit scenes and descriptions that were kind of icky--and it takes a lot to ick me out. But overall, this was a very intriguing and delightful read.
Friday, October 3, 2008
My Sincerest Apologies
I have to make a blanket apology to all back pain sufferers. I had no idea. I can see why many of you complain about the pain and your activity level is next to nil because of your backs. Secretly, I would roll my eyes and figure that it was just one more excuse--and really, who can verify that you do or don't have back pain?--as to why you couldn't do something. I was so very wrong.
There are a lot of "conditions" out there that I think are just doctors' ways of making you go away. They have no idea what's wrong, and so they lump it under a special heading where there are support groups and finally a name to attach to your symptoms. Now, I'm not saying that these conditions are in the mind or not real, just not easily quantified into a disease--such as cancer or diabetes--with treatments and care options.
Until recently, I figured "back pain" was one of those "conditions" diagnosed after you did--or said you did--every thing recommended to alleviate the pain. Granted, many people that I know with back pain have one incident they can pinpoint that triggered the pain, but there are quite a few who say "it just happened one day." And those are the ones I sort of just dismissed. A lot of them have other issues that may be intertwined with the back pain and, to me, it was just one more thing for the pile. Again, a virtually unverifiable pain that could get you some heavy duty pain killers.
Seven months into this pregnancy and I can fully understand how you could go crazy with back pain. There is no position that alleviates the pain. No relief unless I'm in the pool or bathtub and who can spend entire days in the water?
My threshold for sitting in a chair is about an hour. This makes it hard to do anything, especially when the drive, round trip, to anywhere is longer than an hour. I've had to start splitting up my church attendance (shucks) so that one week, I hit the classes and the next week, I go to Sacrament meeting. School kills me because I drive 40ish minutes, sit for 50 minutes, and then drive another 40 minutes back home.
I remember having back pain with Josh, but I don't remember actually tearing up in the car because I couldn't handle the pain another second. I even had a desk job while I was pregnant with Josh and the mere thought of doing that cushiony job right now is enough to make me want to sob out loud. I drove 35 minutes into work, sat for six hours and then drove 35 minutes back home. While there was discomfort, it wasn't like this.
And why am I regaling you all with the tales of my back aches. So that I'm reminded about this experience the next time I want a baby. "Ah, yes, don't you remember the unceasing back pain that caused you to blubber in your car when you still had 10 weeks to go? Do you really want to do that again?"
There are a lot of "conditions" out there that I think are just doctors' ways of making you go away. They have no idea what's wrong, and so they lump it under a special heading where there are support groups and finally a name to attach to your symptoms. Now, I'm not saying that these conditions are in the mind or not real, just not easily quantified into a disease--such as cancer or diabetes--with treatments and care options.
Until recently, I figured "back pain" was one of those "conditions" diagnosed after you did--or said you did--every thing recommended to alleviate the pain. Granted, many people that I know with back pain have one incident they can pinpoint that triggered the pain, but there are quite a few who say "it just happened one day." And those are the ones I sort of just dismissed. A lot of them have other issues that may be intertwined with the back pain and, to me, it was just one more thing for the pile. Again, a virtually unverifiable pain that could get you some heavy duty pain killers.
Seven months into this pregnancy and I can fully understand how you could go crazy with back pain. There is no position that alleviates the pain. No relief unless I'm in the pool or bathtub and who can spend entire days in the water?
My threshold for sitting in a chair is about an hour. This makes it hard to do anything, especially when the drive, round trip, to anywhere is longer than an hour. I've had to start splitting up my church attendance (shucks) so that one week, I hit the classes and the next week, I go to Sacrament meeting. School kills me because I drive 40ish minutes, sit for 50 minutes, and then drive another 40 minutes back home.
I remember having back pain with Josh, but I don't remember actually tearing up in the car because I couldn't handle the pain another second. I even had a desk job while I was pregnant with Josh and the mere thought of doing that cushiony job right now is enough to make me want to sob out loud. I drove 35 minutes into work, sat for six hours and then drove 35 minutes back home. While there was discomfort, it wasn't like this.
And why am I regaling you all with the tales of my back aches. So that I'm reminded about this experience the next time I want a baby. "Ah, yes, don't you remember the unceasing back pain that caused you to blubber in your car when you still had 10 weeks to go? Do you really want to do that again?"
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Things You Should Never Say to A Pregnant Lady
Apparently, there needs to be some discussion on things that should not be uttered to a pregnant lady:
1. Are you pregnant? (This question should never be asked unless you know--without a doubt--that the lady is pregnant, and even then, that's iffy.)
2. Wow, it's like you sprouted overnight. You look like you're finally starting to gain weight and everything. (Yeah, cause that makes me feel so much better. Thank you. I am 7 months pregnant. I'm not sure what you were expecting.)
3. Geez. (Overheard at the pool when I pulled off my t-shirt to get into the pool).
4. Are you going to eat that?
5. Another Milky Way Bar? (Yeah, you have a problem with that?)
6. I can't believe you're doing that in your condition. (Stand back. I wouldn't want you to catch my condition or anything.)
7. Will you play Mary for our Christmas production? (no.)
8. So, how many do you plan on having? (Ask me later. I'm still working on this one.)
9. Were you hoping for a girl? (What we were really hoping for was a baby, boy or girl.)
10. Oh, I love being pregnant, don't you? (The morning sickness. The headaches. The fatigue. The backaches. The acne. The constant peeing. The insomnia. The comments. Yeah, I love it.)
1. Are you pregnant? (This question should never be asked unless you know--without a doubt--that the lady is pregnant, and even then, that's iffy.)
2. Wow, it's like you sprouted overnight. You look like you're finally starting to gain weight and everything. (Yeah, cause that makes me feel so much better. Thank you. I am 7 months pregnant. I'm not sure what you were expecting.)
3. Geez. (Overheard at the pool when I pulled off my t-shirt to get into the pool).
4. Are you going to eat that?
5. Another Milky Way Bar? (Yeah, you have a problem with that?)
6. I can't believe you're doing that in your condition. (Stand back. I wouldn't want you to catch my condition or anything.)
7. Will you play Mary for our Christmas production? (no.)
8. So, how many do you plan on having? (Ask me later. I'm still working on this one.)
9. Were you hoping for a girl? (What we were really hoping for was a baby, boy or girl.)
10. Oh, I love being pregnant, don't you? (The morning sickness. The headaches. The fatigue. The backaches. The acne. The constant peeing. The insomnia. The comments. Yeah, I love it.)
A New Form of Exercising
So I've recently taken up a new form of exercising--actual exercising and not pseudo-exercising or osmosis-exercising. Pool running. And the consensus is that I should've been doing this for the last six months.
The idea is that you run, in a pool--hence the name pool running. The pool that I've been going to in town has a current pool as well as a regular size pool. Lap swim times are from some absurb hour in the morning, 5:30 I believe, to 7:00 and then from 9:00-9:30 at night. They do leave some lanes open all day for lap swimming. However, there are more interested lap swimmers then lanes and so, depending on when you go (note to self: Tuesdays and Wednesdays are scout nights and there are a lot of teenage boys hanging about--not good) you may have to wait. But I haven't had a lot of problems getting at least half the lane.
A friend and I have been pretty consistent with going swimming twice a week, usually Mondays and Saturdays. We've just been doing laps, but I've been sensing the hard earned leg muscles I gained with running are slowly dwindling away, so I did some research. That's how I found pool running.
The idea is that it mimics the act of running without the impact that actual running has on your joints. Perfect for when you're incubating another human being in your abdominal region. And so I gave it a try a few weeks back. The article said that you should use an aquabelt to keep you afloat (so you're not wasting energy by treading water) in the deep end and then you pump your legs like you're running. The first time I did it, I tried it in the current pool--without the aquabelt of course--because that seemed a little bit more condusive to running. But, I'm too tall for it. At the deepest point, the water only covers half of my expanding belly. That means that at some point around the current pool, the majority of my body--namely, my belly, butt and thighs--is sticking out of the water. Yeah, that's attractive.
So, tonight, I made it to the pool while the scouts were there and there was no room to run in the current pool so I just hung out in the deep end "running" back and forth. Initially, I thought that this was doing nothing for me. I wasn't winded. It certainly didn't feel like I was running. But I kept at it for 20 very brain-numbing minutes. (Pool running is very boring. Every article points this out.) I got a lot of stares, but even more when I pulled myself out and everyone saw my belly.
Right now, though, I'm feeling it in my legs. Even more so then I felt it in my legs from the current pool on Saturday. Apparently, I really did work something. And I'm hooked. I will definitely be adding this to my regimen. The best part was that two ladies across the pool kept looking at me and obviously talking about what I was doing. The minute I got out to leave, they got aquabelts from the side (the pool keeps a stash of them for aerobics) and tried my new found exercise.
I'm a trendsetter!!
The idea is that you run, in a pool--hence the name pool running. The pool that I've been going to in town has a current pool as well as a regular size pool. Lap swim times are from some absurb hour in the morning, 5:30 I believe, to 7:00 and then from 9:00-9:30 at night. They do leave some lanes open all day for lap swimming. However, there are more interested lap swimmers then lanes and so, depending on when you go (note to self: Tuesdays and Wednesdays are scout nights and there are a lot of teenage boys hanging about--not good) you may have to wait. But I haven't had a lot of problems getting at least half the lane.
A friend and I have been pretty consistent with going swimming twice a week, usually Mondays and Saturdays. We've just been doing laps, but I've been sensing the hard earned leg muscles I gained with running are slowly dwindling away, so I did some research. That's how I found pool running.
The idea is that it mimics the act of running without the impact that actual running has on your joints. Perfect for when you're incubating another human being in your abdominal region. And so I gave it a try a few weeks back. The article said that you should use an aquabelt to keep you afloat (so you're not wasting energy by treading water) in the deep end and then you pump your legs like you're running. The first time I did it, I tried it in the current pool--without the aquabelt of course--because that seemed a little bit more condusive to running. But, I'm too tall for it. At the deepest point, the water only covers half of my expanding belly. That means that at some point around the current pool, the majority of my body--namely, my belly, butt and thighs--is sticking out of the water. Yeah, that's attractive.
So, tonight, I made it to the pool while the scouts were there and there was no room to run in the current pool so I just hung out in the deep end "running" back and forth. Initially, I thought that this was doing nothing for me. I wasn't winded. It certainly didn't feel like I was running. But I kept at it for 20 very brain-numbing minutes. (Pool running is very boring. Every article points this out.) I got a lot of stares, but even more when I pulled myself out and everyone saw my belly.
Right now, though, I'm feeling it in my legs. Even more so then I felt it in my legs from the current pool on Saturday. Apparently, I really did work something. And I'm hooked. I will definitely be adding this to my regimen. The best part was that two ladies across the pool kept looking at me and obviously talking about what I was doing. The minute I got out to leave, they got aquabelts from the side (the pool keeps a stash of them for aerobics) and tried my new found exercise.
I'm a trendsetter!!
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