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Yesterday was my last day of work.

One of my clients wrote to me, "I am going to miss your joy..."

Joyful is not something most people would label me as, because most people are not my clients. In the way she knows me, I am joyful. It surprised me to read her compliment but as I thought about it, it is true. The joy of being her, and many other's, therapist spilled from me frequently unable to contain it.

Each night, for many years, I vehemently thanked God for 1) my family 2) my home 3) my career. I feel these three things, in that order, were my greatest blessings.

I am willingly walking away from two of the three and my heart is breaking, is grieving.

I can't write anything more about these things right now. But maybe someday.

Anemia and Hip

Apparently I continue to be anemic and as a result I am now required to to take 325 mg of Ferrous Sulfate per day in addition to my prenatal. That means a bunch of gross side effects.

I checked into how bad anemia is for me and the fetus...it can be really bad.

Here are some symptoms I am having: irritability, tiredness, shortness of breath, heart palpitations, and paleness. I thought all of those things were due to having a two year old potty training while being 28 weeks pregnant in the middle of summer and anticipating HUGE life/circumstance changes. Apparently not.

***

Hip got into big trouble this evening for 1) refusing to eat dinner 2) foraging his own dinner out of hidden snacks (goldfish he had stashed in a toy dump truck) 3) scratching me 4) dumping out folded laundry he had already been told to leave alone 5) hitting me 6) kicking me 7) throwing a temper tantrum 8) missing the potty.

About 30 minutes after he had calmed down his toy horse "hit him" and so he told me the horse had to go to time out. He placed the horse in his own time out place and told him, "Two minutes." Immediately after the horse incident Hip's toy goat began acting up, being "naughty," and also required a time out. I am relieved he is having just as difficult night dealing with his unruly toys as I am my unruly toddler.

***

During his bath Hip sternly said to me, "Go make dinner, Mommy." There will be no bra-burning around here anytime soon.

Sometimes Bad Things Are Funny

Today L is working a day shift. He left the house at 5:45 am and suddenly I heard him rustling around outside. It snapped me out of my sleepiness because I was worried there were car problems. I continued to listen for a few minutes when L came back into the house and into our room to declare that his car had be vandalized. "WHAT!?" I cried sitting up straightaway. He said, "Yeah, someone took a dump (but a different word) in my car. "WHAT?!" I cried again. "Yeah, and threw pudding all over it." he added.

I threw some clothes on to take a look. If this was true it was more worth it to see the pile of poop in L's car than to continue sleeping. Sure enough, in the passenger seat there was a very large pile (well, sort of a scattering) of feces. Was it human for sure? We debated it for a few minutes. A skid mark down the inside of the door confirmed our fears and suggested the perpetrator perched himself (or herself, to be fair--but let's keep it real, there are very few girls that crass) on the door, whose window was down. It was disgusting and hilarious. And of course there was the pudding cup laying empty on the passenger floor with the contents scattered all over the seat, floor, and middle console.

I tried to hide my laughs as L called South Ogden PD but after he got off the phone with dispatch I blurted out that he just ended a dispatch worker's long night shift on a very high note and that they probably can't wait to tell all of their friends and family this story later. When the police officer showed up he could barely contain himself. Poor guy, he was trying so hard to be professional when this situation was freaking awesomely funny. L even told him he should fingerprint the pudding cup which sent me and the officer into near heart failure for trying to keep our laughing at a minimum.

Anyway, I gave L minimal moral support as he cleaned the mess, sitting on the porch thinking of the best way to blog about this later. There was no way I was going to help him...much to his criticism over the years, I always roll up my windows and lock my doors no matter where I am or what time of day. I think L will too now.

***

L (but actually we both are) is having a string of bad luck this summer. His beloved Camaro's engine blew up the other day. May it RIP in my father-in-law's garage for the next 28 months. The good news is that I recently named it, "White Boy", which in my opinion is shear genius for a white Camaro.

***

P.S. I was going through my archives to look at Baby Hippo pictures and came across this from January 2009:

Later, I helped L bath Hippo and wished him (L) a safe trip to work (that was after I ate the ENTIRE chocolate covered Oreo we were supposed to share because he yelled at me for locking the car).

Oh snap!!!!!

In Five Minutes I will Regret Writing This

In the last few days I have realized that 28 months is my favorite age so far. Hippo is more aware of his body, his environment, his behavior, and his impact on others than I thought possible.

L said last night as we were falling asleep, "You and Hip have a lot of similarities...he has your sense of humor." I said, "It's awesome."

Sure he seeks attention every 30 seconds, sure he still has major temper tantrums at times, sure he still has bouts of hitting/kicking/screaming/yelling, and sure he is into EVERYTHING but instead of driving me nuts (which, by the way, sometimes he asks me if he is driving me nuts. I say, "YES!") most of the time I find it charming and a side effect of his developing interests, personality, and awareness.

Mostly he is cute and funny.

Hip's gross motor skills have increased dramatically in the last few weeks. He has learned to climb and go up and down stairs on his feet (using the wall as support).

We have been potty training the last few days. I am delighted in how motivated he is (by candy and mini ice cream sandwiches) by the process of mastering new skills. He has learned to use the potty, undress, take his diaper off, to go #1 on command just about, etc. I have to admit that a few of these skills I have been intentionally avoiding as they have brought inevitable problems (urinating all over his bed, running around the house naked and refusing to put clothing on, and thinking he is the master of the house to name a few).

I have put his underwear on no less than 1,000 times today. And he has eaten no less than 1,000 pieces of candy in the last 72 hours. I wonder if upon his marriage he will demand his wife to give him a piece of candy in return for going #1 or demand an ice cream sandwich for him to go #2.

We have had a few accidents despite the 90% success we have had. Since he is climbing now, he climbed up on a bunch of our unpacked boxes in the basement and did some business. Thank goodness he tattled on himself because that would have been an unpleasant find days/weeks later. He/we got a little lazy last night and instead of vigilantly asking him to go (or him demanding a piece of candy) we went a couple of hours and he relieved himself in his high chair and then on the floor a few minutes later.

Hip continues to love vehicles including but not limited to: cars, trucks, tractors, aircraft, trains, semi-trucks, rescue vehicles, and construction equipment. He can identify everyone he knows' vehicles. When we were at the Oregon Coast a few months ago he saw a white Lincoln, which is what Uncle AJ drives, and insisted that AJ must be around somewhere. He asked for no less than one hour, "Where's AJ?"

Hip also continues to love music of all genres, music videos, and dancing. The only music he does not like is when I sing. "Mommy, stop singing!" he says anytime I break into song. Where did he learn this?! It's rude and it was quite a problem since our car radio burned out and my singing was our only driving entertainment. Any guesses on who his current favorite musician is? Justin Bieber, of course (but he still loves Lady Gaga--he is sheltered from her image). He loves Katie Perry and Timbaland's "If We Ever Meet Again". And he is mad that Miley Cyrus turned creepy and refuses to listen to "Can't Be Tamed".

Apparently Hippo is quite busy. We joke and say he is too busy: too busy to obey, too busy to clean up toys, and too busy to listen. I actually have no idea how busy he really is but friends and family that have children to compare him against are always saying something along the lines of, "My oh my, he sure is busy." while shaking their head.

Hip still loves books and reading. Reading is a part of our daily schedule and last month he picked out his first library book--it was about cookies. This month he picked a book out about a cow.

He still likes to be out and about. When we spend too much time in the house he goes through a list of ideas of places we could go. Church, the gym, and Grandma's always top his list. He makes friends wherever we go, including our new neighbor, Lema. Lema is a 72 year-old Samoan lady who gives Hip candy, ice cream, popsicles, and other treats any time she sees him. Several weeks ago she had her knee replaced and he was very concerned knowing she was hurt in the hospital and asked about her daily until she came home. He would even ask to visit her at the hospital. When she got home he showed great tenderness to her "owie." L and I think Lema is Hip's best/favorite friend and we are sad to be leaving yet another one of Hippo's entourage.

This post would not be complete without a discussion about Hip's infatuation with the damn cat. His delight in her is translated into a lot of screeching when she is around (so she is not around that much) which I know he learned from L and I. She puts up with a lot from him but every once in awhile she loses her cool (hey, so do I) and bats at him. He has never been hurt by these encounters, except his feelings. He demands she be placed in time out for two minutes for hitting. We happily oblige.

Hip is still a wonderful eater. He will try just about everything, unless he already knows he does not like it (e.g. peas). His favorite foods continue to be: cheese in various forms--cottage cheese being his absolute favorite, berries, ranch dressing and other condiments, yogurt, bananas, Cheerios, oatmeal, candy, and ice cream sandwiches.

Hip's vocabulary is still stellar and his conversation skills are adorable. My favorite is when he has conversations with various people who are not there. It is so funny because usually he is bossing them around. He talks on an imaginary phone to his Aunt T about once a week. He told her all about his potty training last night (I bet you had no idea T!).

Speaking of being bossy...he tells everyone off except me--oh, he has learned. Next to me, it appears he believes he rules the world; and unfortunately most people, except me, abide by his commands. During his grandpa's tomato planting he would either stand at the base of the field directing the tractor/Grandpa on what he should be doing and how he should be doing it or he would sit on Grandpa's lap while driving the tractor and direct from that vantage point. It is a true travesty we never had a video camera during those times. I bet you did not realize a two year-old had so much tomato planting expertise as I was surprised myself.

***

Unfortunately Hip chose the two times he wore a diaper today--nighttime and naptime--to go #2 despite begging me all day to earn an ice cream sandwich. I let him stay up late tonight as we have been homebound, under stimulated, and bored to tears and so he hasn't been able to fall asleep quickly. at 8:20 pm he came running out of his playroom exclaiming he had to go poop. Sure enough, despite crying wolf many, many times today he earned an ice cream sandwich in the nick of time!

Guess What We're Doing Today

The Combination of Bleach and Poop

When you have explosive diarrhea you need a good movie like "Nebo" (aka "Finding Nemo"), your favorite star blanket, rag, a comfy place to rest, sippy cups full of Gatorade and water, saltine crackers, a matchbox car of your choice, and a mom who is ready to spring into action for disaster containment and hazardous material cleanup. A mom who can be awake in half a second in case you call her at 3:00 am, 5:00 am, and 6:30 am screaming, "Mommy! POOP! WAAAAAAAH!" It's best that the mom is willing to heed each beck and call for "more snacks", "more Nebo", or "read books." It's also good to have a dad that is a nurse and can figure out 2 year-old dosages on Immodium.

***

Here are pictures of pre-sickness July activities:

It's lucky for a 2 year-old when city workers are on the job by 6:30 am outside of your bedroom window with track hoes, steam rollers, cement and dump trucks.

It's not so lucky for a mom to have a 2 year-old up at 6:30 am.

This is the festival where I was groped (but apparently since it was on my lower side it is not legally being groped--I consulted law enforcement, but only because it was my friend and why not ask?)

The phrase, "He's all boy" applies here.

24.86 weeks

The calculation has to be exact (or rounded up) for coping reasons.

I had my first charlie-horse leg cramp in 62 weeks of pregnancy a couple of weeks ago. It made me mad to have my streak ruined like that, there in the middle of the night (remember how mad Jerry Seinfeld was when his 10 year vomit streak ended?).

I can't breath if I eat more than a fist-sized portion of anything, or if I exert myself at all. This makes me mad because I have worked out every day possible during this pregnancy, not even being scared away by the vomit-at-the-gym streak I went through.

I have gained more than 65% of the weight I had allotted myself. That only leaves me 7 pounds and the baby is supposed to gain 6!

I walk like I'm 38 weeks and people make fun of me, or ask me if I have an ankle injury.

Someone told me I didn't look pregnant, that I just looked fat. I didn't have rage but I thought, She's mad because my presence reminds her how wrong she is, always. Point proven.

It's hard to hold Hip or to pick him up. He doesn't seem to mind.

I like to swim as it takes the pressure off my legs and back. It's not really swimming as it is bobbing around because if I try and really swim I can't breath and there is nothing more scary than not being able to breath when you are in a body of water.

I like to eat pineapple and peaches and salt water taffy.

I can't bend very well, sit very well, lay very well, or stand very well.

Pregnancy+summer heat=sweaty.

You can see his hand in the second photo in the upper right, by his head. Me and L don't think he looks much like Hip.

Rage

I haven't had the episodes of intense anger, and resulting irrational behavior, I had during the end of my second trimester with Hip...

until today...

Our old city is having its yearly celebration this week. Festivities include singing contests, a carnival at the park, activities for small children, a parade and fireworks tomorrow night. This evening after dinner we took Hip to the carnival. He rode motorcycle rides and a car ride. Since I am pregnant I chose not to go on the Ferris Wheel with L and Hip instead waiting below in the cool shaded grass with L's sister and her boyfriend.

Suddenly I felt this odd squirrelly touch on the right side of my middle back. I turned slightly to see a stocky man casually dressed pushing a double stroller with two children walking next to him. He said, "Excuse me." I moved out of the way and said, "Don't ever touch me again." You may find my response rude, but I am super confused why he would a) need to touch me at all b) touch my middle back c) touch me in such a creepy manner. I had no problem moving out of the way of his family, I had a problem with the manner in which he touched me.

Being offended by my female empowered response he replied VERY rudely, "Then stay the hell out of the way!"

That's the moment. The one where all I saw was red. I charged after him and said with equal rudeness (and maybe a little more), "*#$@ YOU!" He turned back around, saw that I am pregnant, and looked at my sister-in-law's boyfriend. He started walking back toward my sister-in-law and her boyfriend and said to him, "Are you the one with the problem here?"

You can imagine the boyfriend's surprise. He replied cooly, "You don't push your way over a lady, sir."

"You got a problem? You want to take this over there," he said with equal amount of rage I was experiencing and pointing in a northerly direction.

"No I don't," the boyfriend remaining calm.

Remembering my role as a peacemaker and mediator, professionally, I said to the man, "You are not okay. You should go get some help."

The man then said, "Let's go talk this over with my friend, Officer Jensen."

"You do that," the boyfriend said.

The man walked away and stopped some 50 yards away to be with his family of three children and a wife. They all looked so normal over there and I kept wondering if he beats his wife in private. After the rage subsided, which took nearly two hours, I began to feel very sorry for his children and wonder if this is a common experience of his family because they literally did not stick around to witness any of this guy's behavior toward us, or our behavior toward him in all fairness.

I feel deeply ashamed of my use of profanity. Especially in public and especially at a family event. It truly is unlike me to behave in such a manner, though it is not unlike me to stand up in the face of injustice. I am absolutely not sorry for standing up for myself and my body. No one has a right to touch me (break my bubble). This is something I have taught with great energy for 5 years in order to empower children and to empower people who have been victimized. I am proud I proved myself to not be a hypocrite and took action.

Each episode of pregnancy rage I have experienced has come from a valid place. It's just my extreme emotional response and behavior that have me slightly amused, but a lot worried. With Hip I had 4 major incidents in a matter of 4 weeks. I hope that tonight is my first and last with this pregnancy.

And I hope this is the last time I get groped at a community event.

A Conversation

Me: Hip? Do you know what today is?

Hip: Yep.

Me: It's Father's Day. Who is your father?

Hip: Umm...Jesus.

Me: Actually Jesus is your brother. Daddy is your father.

Hip: YAY! DADDY!

Me: Who is Jesus' father?

Hip: AJ?

Me: No, Heavenly Father. He's your Heavenly Father too. Do you know who Daddy's father is?

Hip: Umm...Umm...

Me: It's Grandpa Ray. Do you know who Mommy's father is?

Hip: Jesus has a truck.

Me: I don't think so. Jesus doesn't really need a truck. Do you know who Mommy's father is?

Hip: Jesus has a car.

Me: No, it's the same thing as a truck and he doesn't need a truck or a car.

Hip: JESUS HAS A TRUCK!

Me: Okay, Jesus has a truck.

Hip: JESUS HAS A TRUCK! (repeated 25 times).

***

Earlier in the day I asked him a question that I cannot remember now and he answered, "Twenty-three weeks." I was very confused about his answer, which had nothing to do with the my question, because where in the world would he come up with that? I realized later that since it is obvious that I am expecting a lot of people have been asking the usual pregnancy related questions including 'how far along' and 'do you know what your having?' Of course I've been politely answering, "I'm twenty-three weeks" and "I'm having a human being, I'm surprised you didn't know that already."

***

It is a dream come true to have a child that will talk with me. I hope this will always be the case.

Best Day Ever

This is Hippo's heaven

Reasons

Here are the reasons I love Ken Griffey Jr.

-He is a classy athlete

-He has triumphed over personal tragedy and disappointment

-He is funny

-He is cool

-He was exciting to watch

-He is inspirational, for all the right reasons

-He is caring

-He is a good leader, for all the right reasons

-He loves kids

-He is like an old-school player, the ones you think about when listening to James Earl Jones's monologue in "Field of Dreams" about baseball, wrapped up in a modern-day package

-He gives me a sense of happy nostalgia

-He is the reason I played for as long as I did

-He is the reason I have always regretted quitting

-He is the reason I have, and always will, love baseball

Back Seat Mormons

Hip and I attended our new ward (church congregation) for the first time today. We were warmly welcomed, and then warmly escorted from the building afterward.

This is what needed to happen to Hip during sacrament meeting: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0xSKEeKw_TA

We are used to having sacrament meeting first in the three hour block (11:00 AM) which means Hip is the most well slept, well fed, well cooperative he's going to be. This new ward does not have sacrament meeting until 1:00 pm which means Hip was the most tired, most hungry, and most uncooperative he was going to be.

When we entered the chapel, where the meeting is held, the only seats available was the second row from the front, behind a family who had gathered for a baby blessing (celebrating new life and putting a child's name on the church records). The only other time Hip has sat in a pew was for his cousin's baby blessing a few months ago which was in the early morning; but I was so ill that day I have very little memory of it other than almost throwing up Cheerios at my brother's church building. We have always sat in the back row, in our old ward, in folding chairs exactly next to an exit. This proves to be most advantageous as we can coral Hip, he is not distracted by very many people, not very many people are distracted by him (except the other half-hearted back-row folks who are looking to be distracted anyway), and in case of an emergency (temper tantrum, screaming/yelling, disobedience, poop, and general rowdiness) we can make a speedy exit without having to scramble over anyone else in the process.

To list a few highlights (or lowlights) of our church experience:

-Hip staining my new white maternity shirt with drool dyed orange from his goldfish snack in nursery

-Hip hitting me and the girl sitting in front of us

-Us barging into another ward's all-men's meeting when trying to find an empty room for time out (we have the empty rooms scouted out in our old ward building)

-Hip finding the hidden candy in the diaper bag and screaming either, "I WANT CANDY" or "I HAVE CANDIES" every five or so minutes

-Jumping on the pew facing the entire congregation, screaming/yelling/hollering about: as for mentioned candy, hellos to those he would like to get to know, trucks, stickers, snacks, nursery, puppets, balloons, glad tidings, no-so-glad tidings, books, etc.

-Screaming in delight in response to the children behind him

-Getting to know the lady sitting next to him during fast and testimony meeting by which my observations she was feeling quite touched

-Screaming to the girl in front of him, after he hit her, "DON'T DO THAT, OKAY?" (I'm still not sure what she was not supposed to be doing)

-Throwing his rag at me

-Trying to escape the pew with so much effort he became as sweaty as a pig (and hence slippery), and so did I

-Hip yelling to several speakers

-Hip refusing to pray, even though he used to pray, and screaming about a variety of things instead

-Hip dribbling chocolate down his face, clothes, and onto the plush pew cushion when I finally relented in giving him candy to stop the screaming

-Hip choking on a Mike 'n Ike candy to the point where I was considering administering first aid

I had a profound impression driving home: People don't go inactive because of testimony problems, they go inactive because of toddlers.

So Many Ideas, So Few Pictures

I've had plenty of time to post, just so you know.

I've lost the cords to our camera and phones (and the camera battery) which is a common side effect of moving I believe. So I have not been able to upload pictures. I've come to the realization that everyone wants pictures with the blog post and so I've been avoiding it.

Here are the things I will be blogging about as soon as I find a cord or two (and a battery):
-Our recent (not that recent anymore) trip to the Oregon Coast
-Our recent house sale and move
-Hip, on being two
-Hip, on moving from his beloved home
-Hip, on his big boy bed
-The neighbor(s)--this one's going to surprise you
-Week 20
-Me, on being overly idealistic, polictically, as a book review
-Me, on becoming humble

Aren't you excited?

Mom, This One's For You

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tFNJLs-Ql0o

When The Going Gets Tough, The Tough Get Reading

I don't smoke, drink, drug, party, club, eat excessively, or watch television often so when life gets challenging I turn to exercise generally. Since I throw up a lot during pregnancy my workouts have gone from approximately 2 hours 4-5 times weekly (~1000 calories) to 70 minutes 4 times weekly (~450 calories). When I contracted a wicked sinus infection AND pink eye last week I halted my workouts, temporarily. It's a good thing I've got a back up plan.

Finishing my 13th book in a month last night I have decided to review them.

Percy Jackson and the Olympians Series by Rick Riordan

Book 1: The Lightning Thief

Book 2: The Sea of Monsters

Book 3; The Curse of the Titans

Book 4: The Battle of the Labyrinth

Book 5: The Last Olympian

These are surprisingly good. A few book club members began reading them reporting good things. I dove in when I was confident the series fit my criteria: the series must be complete before I read any of them. There are two things that stand out on my list of why I liked this series: it taught me all I ever wanted to know about Greek mythology without boring me to tears and there is adrenaline pumping action on nearly every single page of each book. My new greek mythology knowledge has already helped me understand many things in regular life/other reading! These books are age appropriate for age 10 and up, anything below parents should know that there is violence and some death. Finally, books 1, 2, and 4 are better than books 3 and 5, which are still entertaining. (The movie "The Lightning Thief" deviates enough from book 1 that it annoyed me).

The Good Earth by Pearl S. Buck

This book is so good it won a pulitzer prize in 1932. The story takes place in China and 'earth' is the subject strain throughout a man's lifetime, being born into poverty and becoming a rich man. I watched this movie, in black and white I believe, when I was a young child and was deeply traumatized. I was not too young to understand the horror of starvation, something you will need to endure to make it through this novel. There is a connection between land ownership and wealth something modernly is applicable though the importance has been lost on most Americans. Ironically I was selling my own parcel of land while reading this book, if you read this book you will understand my heartache.

The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peal Society by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows

This book is just as delightful as it is fabulous. Set in England's island territory of Guernsey (off France's Northwestern coastline) in WWII aftermath. It is a story, told through witty letters, about courage and the human spirit's ability to survive and cope and heal. It would be selfish for me not to recommend this book to everyone I know (and like). My sister gave it to me to read on my recent trip to Oregon and I couldn't put it down despite pus oozing out of every orifice on my face (so it worked out that I couldn't sleep!). The enjoyment I gleaned from this book equals what learning to love to read was like as a kid.

A Room With a View by E.M. Forster

I am a lover of classic literature. In 1998 I told this to my BYU English 115 teacher, a graduate student, who told me I was a snob! Anyway, this was recommended by my library's classic book list. Imagine Jane Autsen meets L.M. Montgomery. This book is set in early 1900s England/Italy (English in Italy) and is a commentary on class, independent thinking, and humanism (aka human rights). I responded positively to it immediately and loved how slightly the themes were presented. A lesser snob would never have picked up the fact that E.M. Forster was a homosexual, which made me love him and this book even more. I will definitely read more of him in the future.

Bud, Not Buddy by Christopher Paul Curtis

This book was exactly what I needed, set in the Great Depression in Michigan! The book was not so much about Michigan as it was about a 10 year-old boy who has the important things in life already figured out. Bud is an orphan who is on a journey to find his roots. Aren't we all? If you love children and the way they think, simply, you will enjoy this book. It won the Newberry Award in 2000.

A Single Shard by Linda Sue Park

A short book about dedication and overcoming obstacles with determination. I enjoyed learning about an interesting part of Korea's cultural history as I read the story about Tree-Ear. Tree-Ear learns the fine art of pottery and overcomes many obstacles, with the help of merciful and loving friends, to find his place in the world. Books like this should be on your children's list to read because of the important cultural and humanistic messages; that is, if you want your children to grow up to be good people. It won the Newberry Award in 2002.

Walk Two Moons by Sharon Creech

I loved this book a lot and I highly recommend this as one not to miss out on. The story is actually two parallel stories where the main character gains incredible personal insight, healing, and closure to a personal tragedy through an experience of a friend. In other words, this book is a spiritual metaphor. Though the language of this book is written for tweens, the deeper themes will not be recognizable until older ages. That's okay, it is a book that can be enjoyed by many different types of people and readers. This book won the Newberry Award in 1995.

The Midwife's Apprentice by Karen Cushman

You can read this book in an hour. It is about a drifting orphan in 1200 England who finds herself an unconventional home and occupation. I found it interesting because I am indeed pregnant but it was also a simple commentary on caregiving (of oneself and of others). Anyone who loves others will enjoy this book. This book won the Newberry Award in 1996.

People are Idiots and I Can Prove It! by Larry Winget

Yes, I am an idiot and Larry Winget proved it. SHOOT! L and I listened to this on our car ride home from Oregon last Sunday. What Larry does is paint a picture of common human goals and how many/most people do things to sabotage their success rather than attain their goals. In my professional opinion it is an oversimplification, but still a very useful slap in the face, of why people are unsuccessful. I realized I sabotaged my success in private practice by blaming my lack of confidence rather than my lack of honest preparation and research and hard work. Larry's frank statements also caused discussion between L and I which turned into an argument which turned into resolution, hopefully, of some long term differences we have had. The only thing I wished was more examples of laugh out loud idiocy.

This Is Me, 14 Weeks Pregnant

There's no use posting an abdomen shot as a photo will not detect my thickening waist yet. My pants can certainly detect it, however.

I have accepted the fact that I am knocked up. I have not accepted the fact that I will be the parent of two children.*

Sorry I've been a little cryptic about it. Well, I'm really not that sorry.

*Don't worry, I was in denial that I would be a parent with Hip until about six weeks after he was born.

P.S. L is mad I posted a picture of myself in my bathrobe.

Motivation?

Be Still My Soul

A college roommate taught me to appreciate music. She emoted the music when she listened, or played. 'Be Still My Soul' was one hymn, of many, by which I watched her be comforted:

Be still, my soul: The Lord is on thy side;
With patience bear thy cross of grief or pain.
Leave to thy God to order and provide;
In ev'ry change he faithful will remain.
Be still, my soul: Thy best, thy heav'nly Friend
Thru thorny ways leads to a joyful end.

Be still, my soul: Thy God doth undertake
To guide the future as he has the past.
Thy hope, thy confidence let nothing shake;
All now mysterious shall be bright at last.
Be still, my soul: The waves and winds still know
His voice who ruled them while he dwelt below.

Be still, my soul: The hour is hast'ning on
When we shall be forever with the Lord,
When disappointment, grief, and fear are gone,
Sorrow forgot, love's purest joys restored.
Be still, my soul: When change and tears are past,
All safe and blessed we shall meet at last.

It has been a time of great sadness. Anticipating many life changes has moved from exciting to stressing.

Watching our home be scrutinized and fiscally valued by strangers and neighbors has been heartbreaking. What is a home worth? A place where lives are built, a place of refuge.

The thought of leaving my career, though temporarily, causes me tremendous grief. A large part of who I am is defined by being a therapist; someone criticized this as 'an inflated sense of self' the other day when I expressed this concern to them (don't get too mad, they were trying to be helpful). Now that I have thought about it for awhile I can see their point, but I disagree. I am a good therapist and I will miss it. I will miss my office, my chair, my computer desktop, my files of children's drawings, my colleagues, my clients. Mostly, I will miss the opportunities I have had to learn from the therapeutic relationship; I have learned the most amazing truths about God's mysteries as a therapist.

It took me a long time to make good friends after I got married. And suddenly they were there, after many lonely years. These friends have enriched my life and changed me. The distance created by our move will not lose these friends, but the relationship will change and loss will be felt.

I anticipated problems with our neighbors as we neared finality on our future plans. No amount of anticipation could have prepared me to have my character raked over boiling tempers, again and again and again. I feel defeated. Wisdom I would impart is to not worry what others think if you feel good about what you have done. That advice is crap. The bottom line is that it hurts when others hate me, especially when I know what I've done is the right thing. Because, if there is something I can change about my behavior or character, something to apologize for, maybe their hatred would be justified. God's advice is always best: Matthew 5:44 "But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you;" Know, I am trying.

Hip has been a challenge. I naively thought the challenging behavior was only present at home. It was clear that is not the case when talks of being kicked out of our church's nursery began a few weeks ago. I am rarely the parent who is embarrassed by the child, and this situation is no different. My horror comes from knowing my child is causing harm to others, and severe disruption to the poor teachers. I know, first hand, how tiring it is to work with naughty children, I have empathy. Hip's hitting problem is severe. There have been those who have said, "He's two, it's normal." My comeback: Pornography viewing is also normal, but certainly not healthy and certainly not okay. At home the tantrums rage for hours, I am the primary victim of his hitting. There have been countless people who have said, "You know where they learn that? From the home." My comeback: Do you think he learned to hit when I forced him--no hitting or physical violence on my part, other than holding him down with one arm--to allow me to change his feces-loaded diaper so quickly last week a NASCAR pit crew would be impressed? Because I'm confused. We do not watch television when Hip is awake, we do not use corporal punishment (except the time he ran near our busy road two weeks ago), there is no domestic violence in our home or threat of it, and shouting occurs only when my hormones coupled with neighbor disputes reach unbearable levels (which all things considered has not happened very often, twice I think). Further, Hip is disciplined using a 123 counting method, brief time outs, and a lot of redirection/distraction. Finally, he is privy to undistracted parental (often two at the same time due to L's work schedule) attention 90% of his waking hours. It should be noted Hip is only disciplined with time outs at this stage of his life for hitting or angry destruction because he IS two and how is it his problem I accidentally left the crayons out and he colored on the wall or that he grabbed onto a ceramic figurine that was within his grasp and he dropped it on the tile breaking it?

The purpose of this post is to sort out my thoughts, an attempt to cope positively with hard things. I told my mom, a few months ago, that I knew I was headed into the most challenging phase of my life, thus far. Being a teenager sucked and the only reason that is worse than the issues going on now is that it lasted so damn long! I am hoping this will end soon. Best case scenario--29 weeks (I've got to allow for some recovery time).

WEARY

I just read a book where the mythological character Atlas tricked a mere mortal in holding up the sky for him.

Oh the irony.

He's 2, That's For Sure

Hippo enjoyed his second birthday. He especially liked this cake his Grandpa Randy made for him.

This is one of my favorite pictures we've taken of Hippo (he looks deceptively innocent and sweet).

This is an adorable picture of Hippo opening his present from his cousin, Buddy. His other cousin, Sambo, is in the chair to the left. Hippo was more happy playing with his cousins in Oregon a few weeks ago than he has been all winter.

Here Hippo is sporting one of his presents. Hippo has always been willing to wear hats, a major benefit to a fashion conscious mother.

Hippo received many birthday presents. He is lucky to have a lot of adoring family members to provide him with endless trucks, tractors, books, and other toys.

L and his 18 year-old sister stayed up until midnight making this cake for Hippo. In the shot you cannot tell that there are hills and valleys, fish swimming in the pond, trees, and worms in the dirt. L was attempting to tell me about his vision of this cake while we were in the store and I impatiently told him that it would never work and that he was foolish for thinking up such a crazy idea. Well, it turned out uber-fabulous and clearly I am the fool. When Hippo saw the cake he immediately yelled, "Tractors!" and raced over to the cake to drive the tractors around. Hippo loved it. Even though I wasn't able to make his cake this year, his daddy filled the void (much better than I would have). We also had a tractor pinata that Hippo had difficulty parting with but we forgot to get a picture of it.