Ouch

As of tomorrow, Baby Brudder will have been cooking for 37 weeks, making him a full-termer and me a very large and uncomfortable mommy. The big pregnant belly really limits one's movements, but as I found out last week, in an emergency situation you can still move pretty fast.
Sam and I go out and do errands about 3 times a week. Sometimes that is a whole trip to the grocery store, other times it is just a quick stop at the library. When we get home I pull Sammy out of his car seat, give him something small to carry, and instruct him to head for the house. He does so dutifully every time, excited to be a "big helper". Last Wednesday, however, a whole flock (herd?) of pigeons was pecking around my car, so Sam didn't want to help me- he just wanted to chase the birds. Which was going well, until the birds headed for the street. I pulled my head out of the car after loading up my arms with bags to see Sam heading for the street, too. Now, any parent knows that if you make any quick movements toward a two-year-old, he will just run further away from you while laughing his head off at your funny new "game". So I walked toward him, saying, "Time to go in, Sammy," in my most stern voice. Nothing doing. He streaked away, and I realized to my horror that he was not going to stop at the sidewalk. I started sprinting after him. You know how in movies how the running person drops everything in their arms as they run? It didn't even occur to me to let go of the things I carried. So I had three bags of produce, a diaper bag, my purse, and a library book in my arms, to say nothing of the small watermelon protruding from my abdomen, all weighing me down as I tried to get to Sammy before any cars did. I managed to catch up with him before he got to the middle turn lane, thanks to a conscientious driver who pulled up to him to keep him from going further into the street. I dragged him back to the sidewalk, sobbing in relief. Me, not him. He thought it was funny.
Half an hour later, after I'd calmed down and fed him lunch and the adrenaline wore off, I realized that walking was incredibly painful. Thankfully Sam went down easy for his nap, so I went to lay down, too. Even after a nice rest, I couldn't walk. At least, not without limping ridiculously. I tried crawling, but that hurt, too. A nurse at my doctor's office said I'd probably sprained the round ligaments that hold the uterus in place, but that I should be okay. I had a couple contractions, and got all excited that maybe I'd found a way of inducing labor. But the contractions went away, even though the pain did not.
Elisa came over the next day to chase Sam around and take him to the potty, and do all the stuff a mom does that require her to be mobile. Hopefully the extra rest I got that morning helped. It's been several days since it happened, and while I can walk, it's still pretty painful. I worry that it won't heal before the baby is born because the weight of my uterus continues to put strain on those ligaments, even without me running.
Moral: Do not run while pregnant. Unless your two-year-old is in imminent danger, in which case run like the wind. But lose the fruit and the library books.

The Most Mundane of Places

This is my gorgeous life:

As Ryan puts it, he makes all the money, and I get to spend all the money. I'm pretty sure that every husband to a stay-at-home wife in the known universe has said that phrase, so no points for creativity, dear. However, it is true that I spend a ridiculous amount of money on groceries, so I will throw Ryan a bone (that I bought! at the grocery store!) and give him credit for taking my purchases in stride.

Ryan does have a full-time career now, thankfully, but for the first three years of our marriage we really didn't have any extra money. We've always had enough for our needs, but we tried really hard not to spend money on things that weren't necessities. Food, however, is an area that I have a really hard time limiting myself in. There is something about a full pantry and refrigerator that speaks comfort and security to me. As the cart got heavier and heavier this morning at Smith's, I felt happier and happier, even though pushing the thing was starting to strain my weak pregnant muscles (to say nothing of the difficulty of navigating the accursed "car cart" through the store). As the cute old man bagger (my favorite- I aways get in his line) packed up my groceries, we were both astonished that I went through all my reusable bags and had to use 2 plastic bags as well! I can practically hear Ryan grinding his teeth as I write this.

The other wonderful part about grocery shopping is taking my son along for the ride. As soon as we pull into the parking lot, Sam starts chanting "Car cart! Car cart!" and looking out the window for the blue one. Which is never there. We always use the green one, which he happily accepts, but if the BLUE ONE was ever available, he would probably have a cataplectic episode. First stop is produce, where Sam points out apples and bananas. Next, we pass the bakery on our way to the dry goods. I like to cruise slowly by the bakery in search of potential Cake Wrecks, but Sam genuinely loves the garish colors of frosting and plastic jetsam that adorn the cakes. He scrambles out of the car cart and insists that I hold him up to look at the birthday cakes. Seriously, that's the best part of my whole day. The grocery store by our old apartment used to give out cookies to the little kids that looked at the birthday cakes, but so far no dice at this store. Luckily, I'm the only one that remembers the free cookies of yesteryear (okay, last year).

I used to write my grocery list on a piece of paper and cross each item off with a pen, but that led to fights between me and Sam's grubby little fists. Tired of having him rip my list week after week, I finally got an app for my iPod that allows me to manage my list electronically, and subtly, as Sam doesn't seem to notice me using it. Today I saw a guy cruising the aisles, staring at his iPod, while shopping. We gave each other the "what's up" nod, because we knew we had passed another tech-savvy shopper. Oh, yeah. Sam got a stern talking-to for grabbing two boxes of Jello (which he somehow knew were strawberry-flavored) off the shelf while Mommy was examining Craisins. Thankfully, he kept his thieving little hands to himself after that.

The people who work at this store are generally very friendly, and as Sam was in a good mood today, lots of people talked to him and told me how cute he is. You don't need to tell me, people. I know my kid is the most adorable thing on the planet. But I appreciate it all the same.

To sum up: Going to the grocery store is pretty much my favorite time of the week.

  

Family Day

 With Ryan working two jobs, it's hard to find a lot of time to spend together as a family. Ryan had a rare day off last week for Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, so we took advantage of it. We took Sam down to the Church History Museum, where they are currently featuring an exhibit called A Book of Mormon Fiesta- A Latin-American Celebration. It's interactive for kids, and has stations about Latin American culture as well as Book of Mormon stories.

Dressed up to learn about Latin dancing

Building Nephi's boat

Every time we walk on the west side of Temple Square (where the museum is located), Ryan and I can smell doughnuts. Sam claimed he could smell them, too, but he tends to answer "yes" to every question that's not "Are you ready for bed?", so he is not exactly reliable. Anyway... We've never been able to figure out where the doughnut smell is coming from. There are no obvious candidates close by. We asked the people working at the museum if they knew, and none of them even acknowledged a doughnut smell! Granted, they are all in their eighties... Regardless, we couldn't handle the temptation of the doughnut smell, so we extended family fun time with a stop by Banbury Cross to eat doughnuts!

Even if it wasn't responsible for the doughnut smell downtown, it was pretty good.

Big Boy Bed

 If I had to identify a particular strength of Sammy's, I would say that he does really well with transitions. When he turned 2, we took his binkie away, and he didn't even fuss about it. Last month we potty trained him, and he was very excited to wear the big boy underwear and use his sticker chart. This week we converted Sam's crib into a big boy bed.

He loves his big boy bed. We taped the "bog boy bed rules" to his wall, and he loves saying them every night. That doesn't mean he always follows them- after a week, he only has 2 stickers on his "staying in bed" chart. He does a good job of not leaving his room, but his toys are too tempting to keep his hands off. And for some reason, in the morning, he still calls out to me when he is ready to get up instead of just getting out of bed himself.

We hope his love of new experiences makes it easier for him to adjust to having a brother!

Snowman a was there Once

A policeman took the picture for us.

After admiring our morning's work, we decided to try to get a picture of our family around the snowman. Ryan hooked a folding chair through the chain link fence, used my mittens to hold it steady, and then tried to set my camera up on a thinner glove so it would stand upright. At that point, the policemen, having finished checking into things across the parking lot, walked back to their cars. 

 After things died down and the angry guy left our front yard, we dutifully traipsed back outside to put the finishing touches on our snowman. Ryan had a cool idea for the mouth, but it turns out that Sharpie does not work well on broken taco shells. Who knew? We eventually found enough stuff in our yard to give the snowman a proper face, once we convinced Sam that the Tootsie Pop nose belonged to the snowman and he would be sad if someone else ate it. Too bad the police cars lined up in front of our house made it impossible to see our cheery snowman from the street.
While on the phone with the police, I looked out the window (and what did I see? ha ha ha) to see the guy talking loudly and angrily to Ryan in our front yard. I tried to stay calm on the phone, but I was definitely scared that there was going to be some roughhousing. Meanwhile, Sam, always dependable, started yelling that he wanted to go outside and play with Daddy and the snowman. Not wanting the dispatcher to think that I was abusing my child, I bribed him to be quiet with a piece of Toblerone. Yes, I ate one too.
Ryan urged me and Sam to go inside and call the police (because, as I've mentioned before on this blog, I have the SSL police dispatch number in my phone). I had to hoist Sam under one arm to get him to go inside, which is not an easy thing to do while 31 weeks pregnant. Once inside, I decided to leave all our snow clothes on, on the off chance that we would get to go outside again soon. Sam ran away from me and hid in the tent he got for Christmas.

We had a great time in the snow. Sammy kept throwing snowballs at us and the snowman, and occasionally asking one of us to breathe on his face to warm it up. Ryan had done a great job of stacking three balls of snow for the snowman, and I contributed by wiping off most of the pine needles and shaping the snow. We were brainstorming ideas on how to dress up our creation when we heard yelling. That's not too unusual, actually, at the government-housing across the parking lot from us. This time, though, the man and woman yelling at each other were also shoving each other and cursing. I tried to get Sam to stay in the front yard with me, away from the noise, but he kept wanting to run away and see what Daddy was looking at.
After we watched Cars and ate our breakfast smoothies, we got dressed to go play in the snow. My snowboarding pants refused to button around my baby-expanded waist, but the belt buckle held them up nonetheless. Sam was absolutely delighted by the swish-swish noises his legs made when he walked in his snowpants. And even Ryan put on his heavy winter coat instead of just donning a long-sleeved shirt. We asked Sam if he wanted to build a snowman, which got him excited. All bundled up, we hurried outside to enjoy the rare treat that has been snow in SLC this winter.
This morning we woke up to find the front yard covered in snow.

The Saga Continues

Scene from the Reynolds household:

Kara exits kitchen to see Ryan sitting on couch, watching Finding Nemo

K: Is Sam in the bath tub?
R: Yeah.
S(from bathroom): Poopy! poopy!
R: Is he saying poopy?
K: *runs to bathroom to see Sam standing up in the tub, taking a dump* Argh! Grab him! Put him on the toilet!
R: *grabs Sam out of the tub* Put the potty seat on for me!
*panicked flurry of action*

Much rejoicing ensued as the poop went in the potty.

Guest Post- Andrew

Andrew has gallantly offered his time and talents again this year, gracing us with a blog post about his and Tara's first Christmas as a married couple. Check out his blog Absolutely Andrew for his outdoor adventures/photography and funny stories about his life.
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The tone for Tara's and my first holiday season as a married couple was set in early December when I was fired from my job.  In retrospect, this was a blessing in disguise, but at the time, it was our sole source of income that I had just flushed down the drain with some extraneous facebooking.  And so, for much of December, I sat cooped up in our cold apartment sending my resume to myriad companies, endlessly tweaking it, trying to get through those blasted text filtering algorithms.  The only things that helped me retain my sanity were the Mondays season pass I had at Solitude (purchased when I still had a job), teaching myself html, and Tara's endless awesomeness throughout the entire ordeal.  Meanwhile, my mother notified the entire extended family that  I was unemployed so we would't be doing gifts that year.  Thanks, Mom.
After two weeks of feeling like the ultimate loser who can't hold down a job and support his new wife, I decided it was time to get out of the apartment.  I suggested to Tara that we drive up to Park City for the evening to see the lights and peruse the galleries.  It turned out to be a wonderful idea.  PC is so magical during the holidays and it was nice to be out in the crisp mountain air.  Window shopping the expensive boutiques amidst all the yuppies clad in over-the-top apres-ski outfits made us practically forget we were poor.
In the car, we popped in the Ingrid Michaelson album Be OK that I had gotten for Tara as a Christmas gift.  The entire album is good, but it was the last song, "You and I", that really struck us on our way back to SLC:

don't you worry, there my honey 
we might not have any money 
but we've got our love to pay the bills 

maybe I think you're cute and funny, 
maybe I wanna do what bunnies do with you, 
if you know what I mean

And within moments were we both belting out along with the song, tears streaming down our faces.  It was the quintessential Christmas moment in which all the stresses of the world are forgotten and the unbreakable bond between two people is all that matters.  Yes, a similar scene has probably been depicted in at lest 3 Sundance films, but this was ours.

Since that first year, we continue to make a tradition of visiting Park City each Christmas.  Sure, these days we may actually enjoy a fancy dinner up there, but the laughing at fur-clad Californians remains the same.  It is also safe to say that Ingrid Michaelson is choice Christmas music in the Newcomb house.