I have a bad habit of going to the emergency room. I've been six times in the past two years. But I love it so much! You just go and they give you all the morphine you want! It's fantastic! I hate those kind of drugs, but after hours and hours of intense pain and no sleep I don't even care about those weird morphine feelings.
I think the pain was related to Crohn's disease. I need to see my GI doctor. We'll see. But I feel so much better now.
I went to the ER on Thursday and on Friday morning Nathaniel's back started hurting. Even though I was feeling much better, I was basically still in a morphine-induced coma and really couldn't take care of Summer. We were so useless. This morning was pretty much just misery on a stick.
But, there are some good things about being sick:
1) An excuse to drink mass quantities of Gatorade.
2) After I awoke from my morphine-induced coma, I realized the apartment looked like a tornado had hit it. So, I guess this means that without me, our apartment would suck. Wow! My life actually has a purpose! I don't mean for this to sound cynical, but it was pretty exciting to realize that I make our lives measurably better.
Okay, this is a completely boring post. Sorry. Here are some pictures of Summer to make up for it.
Summer Baby loves mirrors. A complete narcissist, I tell ya.
Here is the sweet jogging stroller Leslie got us.
Sorry she's not wearing pants. And I know that shirt is gray, but it's actually quite sparkly and girly. So she only looks like a boy from a distance.
Okay, maybe not. But she'd be a dang cute boy, doncha think?
I have an obsession with Summer's feet. Especially when Nathaniel is holding her.
Today, the majority of my friends from law school endured their first day of the bar examination. For those unfamiliar with this particular form of torture, just know that this is the test you have to take in order to become a lawyer, and it's killer. The amount of information you must know to pass this test fills hundreds of pages. How, you ask, are there still really dumb lawyers out there? Beats me. Apparently, they need a better test.
Someday, I will take the bar and become a lawyer like the rest of my class. But today is not that day. Instead, I am watching Summer sleep in her swing. My emotions consist of one part "Ha ha, suckas!" and one part envy.
Being a stay-at-home mom is so difficult for many reasons, but the one I'm having the hardest time with is not feeling like I'm contributing. My head knows that what I'm doing is important. I mean, somebody has to be home to be sure that when Summer wakes up, she'll get food and a diaper change and love. But it's so hard to know that we're living off student loans and I'm not bringing in any money.
To compensate, I try to do other good stuff. I clean. I cook. I take care of Summer. But that's not enough for me.
So right now, I'm writing this:
I'm writing our story. The story of how we met, fell in love, and got married. I feel like it's something that should be written down before we forget. Also, I feel like I owe it to the world to explain how it all happened so fast. Seriously, it was less than four months from the time of our first date to our wedding day.
So here is the first installment. It's not the craziest or most exciting story in the world; after all, we met in a BYU ward. But I hope it'll be something entertaining for when you're bored. And I hope it will keep me motivated to finish it.
****
“Okay, I’ll see you later.”I waved goodbye to Noelle and turned to leave the David O. McKay building.Everyone I knew who lived in my apartment complex on the south side of BYU campus went to church with me.Noelle , my beloved roommate, was my last chance to avoid walking home from church alone.And she had an appointment.Bummer.
So I walked out of the building all by myself, content to think about what I learned in church that day.I didn’t have much time to think, however, because soon a guy who was walking ahead of me with his friends turned around and asked, “What do you think?”
Confused, I replied “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I’m on the four month plan,” a member of the group said.
“The four month plan?”
“Yeah.I go to medical school in California in four months.My options will be limited up there.So I need to get married before I go.”
“That’s the dumbest thing I ever heard,” I exclaimed.Why, yes, I have always been a bit blunt.I blame my mother.“Being single is amazing!You get to have so much fun.You can flirt with whoever you want and do so many things with so many people!”I wanted so badly to show him the light and convince him to get his mind of this insane plan.I have no idea why it didn’t occur to me that he was joking.
“Yeah, but if I go to med school without getting married, I’ll have to lower my standards.There are so many good prospects here, but if I go there where there are fewer prospects, and I’ll get something less than I want.So, I better tie the knot in four months.”
I thought his plan and his argument were inane, but I was beginning to realize my last words may have been a bit harsh.So I empathized.“I see what you mean.If a guy in Georgia, where I’m from, were to ask me out, I might be really excited, but if the same guy were to ask me out here, I might say no.”That had actually happened once.
“So what would you say if Nathaniel asked you out?” asked the guy who had dragged me into this silly conversation in the first place.
“I don’t know who Nathaniel is.”I was annoyed.I could tell what he was doing and I didn’t like it.
He pointed to a guy in the group, who said, “Karl, stop it.”
What was I supposed to say?Nothing would be a bit awkward.Yes would be too forward, and besides, I hadn’t even gotten a good look at this guy’s face.No would hurt his feelings and might be a lie.I didn’t know how to answer that question.
“I don’t know how to answer that question.”
Nathaniel chuckled, his hands in his pockets and looking down.“That was the perfect way to answer that question.”
I smiled at him and continued walking.My awesome gold shoes with a three inch heel were hurting my feet.
Somehow, Nathaniel and I wound up walking back to the apartment complex together.He asked me questions about Georgia and I asked him where he was from.When I found out he was from Farmington, I was disappointed.“Typical Utah boy,” I thought, playing with the ball-shaped flowers we found on the ground.
When we got to the sidewalk where our two paths diverged, we stopped and talked a bit more.I sized him up.He had nice eyes and a good smile, but my three inch heels made him look short.Plus, this guy seemed interested in talking about Russian literature when he found out I had majored in English.Boring.I wasn’t interested.
“Well, I better go.I have got to get these shoes off.”He looked down at my feet and I saw a look of disapproval spread across his face.
“Yeah, you better go.”
“I’ll see you around,” I said as I turned to go.It bugged me that he disapproved of my awesome gold shoes.
And with that, I walked into my apartment and forgot about Nathaniel.
I have been having sleeping problems lately, so last night I read my entire blog. Apparently, my life is absolutely fascinating to me. But I noticed that if someone were to get desperate for something to do he or she would know that I have a husband, a kid, and Crohn’s disease, but not a lot else. So, random person, want to know something else about me? I have a law degree.
It’s not something I’m that proud of. I hate to have to say this, but every time I think about law school I am filled with regret. I started out at a really bad time. For some reason, when I got back from my mission, I was not the same student I was before I left. I had this ridiculous “I deserve a break” attitude. Also, most of my motivation for getting good grades was getting into law school. After I got in, I slacked. I didn’t realize, until it was too late, that law school grades REALLY MATTER, even if you don’t plan on working in a big firm. Also, just before my first year began, I got myself into an awful roller-coaster relationship that was more interesting than studying or figuring out how to master law school exams.
So I ended my first semester in the bottom half of the class. I got my work ethic back after I got married, but I could never climb out of the bottom half.
I rationalized that it was not a big deal. I mean, law school is filled with smart people. Being at the middle of the pack isn’t really a bad thing.
Except that when you know you didn’t try your hardest, your rank doesn’t matter. You will still always feel regret.
I’m still very glad I went to law school. My analytical skills could never have been as good as they are without law school. I know tons of cool, albeit random, bits of the law. With only one exception, my professors were awe-inspiring. I love the places that I worked throughout law school and my experiences there. And my class was chock-full of funny, smart, and kind people, many of whom I hope to remain friends with for a long time to come. These benefits of law school are priceless; well worth the sticker price of school, as well as any opportunity cost. And that is a lot of money.
But there’s the regret of not doing my best at such an important time. I can’t do anything about it now, but I can learn from my mistakes and not make them again. Summer is 12 weeks old today. I will never have a chance to be a mother to her when she is 12 weeks old again. So I will do the best I can with her every day while I strive to improve myself. And, hopefully, I can make some money so that I can start paying off that law degree.
Goodness, I love Pioneer Day. How cool is it that we get a holiday just for living in Utah? Thanks, pioneers!
Back in the Elms during our dating period Nathaniel and I had couple friends. Yep, that's right. Couple friends. Noelle and Nick comprised one of those couples. And it's way cool because now we're all married and they are expecting a baby in two weeks and we all live in Wymount. Couple friends, reunited. Makes my heart sing.
The five and a half of us went downtown today to celebrate the 24th of July at Taste of the Valley. You pay ten bucks and you get to sample a bunch of local restaurant's offerings. It was amazing how much better little local joints are when you can taste them right along with the chains. Now that I think about it, it was almost as though they had the chain version of a type of food right along with the down home version: Goodwood v. some local barbecue joint, Noodles and Co. v. Gloria's, California Pizza Kitchen v. Pizzeria 712, etc. I will be avoiding huge chains for a while. We all loved every bit of it (except the time we stood in a ten minute line for a sacrament cup sized bit of fro-yo).
But there was something very strange: the girls at Goodwood. It's July, and duh, the heat is bad. But the servers at Goodwood were all female, all dyed hair, all super tan, and wearing heat to toe black. They really stuck out. Why a barbecue joint wanted to project that image is beyond me.
We spent our Sunday afternoon with our good friends Paul and Amy. Paul just got a new camera lense and needed a subject -- Summer worked out perfectly. Here are the results:
I was so excited to have roses growing up our front window, but then one day they were all on the ground. I blame the grounds crew. I do not love the grounds crew.
Inside is another story. I still have lot of work to do. Take the living room, for instance. I like one side of it: Sure, it's a little cramped with the armchair right there, but there really is no other place for it and I don't want to get rid of it only to attempt to replace it later. But here is the other side of the living room:
Yikes. I hate bare walls. I just don't know what to do with this white space, though. I am afraid to try to center something over the couch. I've never done it before. But I don't know if I could center the couch, either. Internet peoples, what say ye?
I wonder how many people know that I love to cook.I don’t talk about it frequently.I think I’m secretly ashamed of it.Maybe it’s because the image of a mother slaving over the stove for an ungrateful family is an image my mother railed against when I was growing up.Maybe it’s because I’m a teensy bit uncomfortable with my post-pregnancy body and don’t want to seem like the overweight woman eating an ice cream cone in a van I saw the other day.Maybe it’s because as much as I like to pretend, I’m really not very good at it.Unless I play it very safe, my cooking is usually a disaster.
But whatever reason my reason for not talking about food, I’m over it.I love to cook.There is something so satisfying about taking ingredients, combining them, and turning them into something infinitely greater than its parts.I remember making sarmale with my mini-missionary on p-day and feeling incredibly proud to have a huge pot of meat and rice stuffed cabbage leaves.Okay, Sora Vasile did her share of the work as well.But I love the feeling I get when I cook something great.Perhaps it’s the same feeling Michelangelo felt when he completed La Pieta.Well, probably not, because my cooking involves no originality. Maybe it’s the feeling a six-year old gets when he successfully traces his favorite comic book character and his mom sticks it up on the fridge.Whatever, it feels good.
And, I have to admit, I like cooking for my man.I feel like I just admitted for the first time that I am an alcoholic.Not that I have ever admitted that I’m an alcoholic.And not that I am an alcoholic.I’m not.I just like to have my daily shot of scotch.What’s wrong with that?
Anyway, I discovered recently that I love to cook beans.Yep, that’s right.Beans.Sure, you can get them cheap in a can, but they’re dirt cheap when I make them myself.And buying a can and opening it up will never give me a sense of accomplishment.Maybe it will for my brothers, which is fine.But not for me.
I was always a bit intimidated by bags of beans at the store. But then, I got a slow cooker.And some courage.I bought beans.I put them in the slow cooker with lots of water and a little salt.I turned the slow cooker on high.I went to bed.In the morning, I had beans.Lots of them. It felt good.
Our sweet little Summer baby had her two month check-up yesterday. She has a umbilical hernia (like her mom) and a laryngeal web (like her dad). Here are her stats:
Head circumference: 32nd percentile Height: 22nd percentile Weight: 44th percentile
She’s the cutest little chunk ever! Her percentiles for her 2 week appointment were 25% for head circumference, 5% for height, and 10 % for weight, so no one can accuse me of not feeding my child enough. See? Check out those cheeks!
Sorry about the ugly sleeper. I always put her in cute clothes and plan on taking pictures and then she winds up pooping all over them. I really think she’s learned how to aim. I want to be upset, but I can’t help be impressed when she has squirted up. How she defies gravity like that will never cease to amaze me. And I just blogged about poop. Sorry. Anyway, here are some pictures of her; just pretend it’s a cute pink and blue sleeper with flowers all over it.
