tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34932591161592815912023-11-16T03:00:22.642-08:00stewart family funSTEWART FAMILY FUN: true-ish tales inspired by real lifeErinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03159904018799055261noreply@blogger.comBlogger259125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3493259116159281591.post-10596234091097953222015-08-17T13:18:00.000-07:002015-08-17T13:18:49.907-07:00One year<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Today is Lettie's birthday. TODAY IS LETTIE'S BIRTHDAY. As in, she's one. And in a year that seemed filled with nothing but struggles to stay afloat, she has been the air that reminds us that we are alive. For real.<br />
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For the past 12 months I've been telling everyone who will listen how good of a baby Lettie is. At first I thought she was tricking me and would say as much. Like, she is SO good that there's no way she could keep it up. She simply set the bar too high. But a year into this and she really is that nice. All the time. She's pretty much the nicest human on the planet.<br />
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We--okay, I--threw a big party for Norah's first birthday. And while it was fun at the time, I look back now and think, Really? What possessed me to do that? For Lettie's birthday, Norah and I made cupcakes. We got a 1 candle at Smith's and sang happy birthday to her at my parent's house after Colman's talk in church yesterday. Lettie squished up the cupcake and that was it.<br />
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Being as nice as she is, Lettie made some adorable faces and destroyed her cupcake just enough for me to get a few pictures proving that we celebrated. I know for a fact that she's not even going to be resentful about not having a real party. She's just nice like that.<br />
<br />Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03159904018799055261noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3493259116159281591.post-23564777716620427452015-02-24T10:33:00.002-08:002015-02-24T13:07:11.483-08:00Insert title hereLast year was a rough one. Being pregnant is amazingly difficult for me. I know, I'm lucky. I understand that. I have two beautiful, healthy daughters. For me, the growing them part is extremely challenging. But that's not what I want to talk about.<br />
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Three weeks after Lettie was born, we were getting ready to spend a week at Bear Lake with the Stewarts. Nic, of course, was busy getting everything ready, including the boats. While he was working on one at the shop, he did something that hurt his back. Justin gave him a pain pill, and he finished what he was doing and came home. That night we ended up at the emergency room because the pain was so severe. And that was just the beginning.<br />
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The past six months have been a blur of doctor's appointments, MRIs, steroid injections, chiropractic work, physical therapy, and prescriptions. And you know what? He's still not much better off than he was in September. It is so incredibly frustrating and heartbreaking, and I think that anyone else would have folded under the pain and the mental exhaustion that comes with it. But have you met Nic? He can keep going long after others would have given up.<br />
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As of today, we're waiting for an appointment with a surgeon. Nic had another MRI last week, and that's the next step. Six months ago, we wouldn't even consider surgery--just because it's so invasive and there's no telling how the recovery and aftermath will be. But if you asked Nic today, he'd have surgery immediately; anything to help lessen the pain. I'm telling you, the past six months have been a nightmare for him.<br />
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In the midst of all of this, there's little Lettie Kay Stewart. You guys, she has been a constant source of light and love and joy. She is human sunshine. Having her with us has changed everything. I know that's what new babies tend to do, I get it. But we needed our Lettie at this exact moment, and we didn't even know it. She fills the room with hope and makes you forget that anything could ever be sad. No matter how much Nic is hurting, her smiles can make him forget. And guys, she smiles with her WHOLE body. She smiles when you're not looking. She smiles when she hears our voices. She smiles when she wakes up. She is the force that has kept us going. <br />
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One of the many problems of dealing with chronic pain is that there is so much waiting. We know Nic is going to have surgery, but the surgeon only does consultations on Mondays, and the next available consult isn't until March. Yes, we're on a cancellation list, but so are a ton of others who are desperate to be seen. And I'm sure that after the consultation, there will be more waiting until the surgery.<br />
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In the meantime, we're doing our best. Lettie, of course, is awesome. In addition to her regular preschool, Norah has started going to Daybreak Academy, which is where she'll go to full-time kindergarten in the fall. They teach piano and karate and Chinese and have a garden and chickens and rabbits--so perfect for my free-spirited Norah. I've started training for a half marathon and actually enjoy running for the first time in the history of ever. Feel free to smack me in the face. Besides his health problems, Nic is doing well. His work is busier and better than it has ever been. He always makes sure that his girls are taken care of and even manages to fit in some fly fishing. We really are fortunate to have so much good along with the bad. Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03159904018799055261noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3493259116159281591.post-83212201422125068612015-01-29T13:55:00.002-08:002015-01-29T13:56:12.851-08:00Granny GenI've always felt like Granny Gen was a kindred spirit. I'm like my dad and my dad is like her and she is beautiful and complicated. <br />
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She passed away January 10th. I had plans that night to go to a movie with friends. My instinct was to cancel; Nic said I should go. As I got in the car, the radio turned on and was tuned to NPR. A Prairie Home Companion was playing. It was a simple moment where I realized that, had she been alive, she would probably be listening to the very same thing. I drove in the wet dark and listened to Garrison Keillor and a little bluegrass and felt immensely grateful for the influence of this woman in my life.<br />
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Her funeral left me again grateful. As my aunts spoke of her love of books and words, I could feel how the things that she loved had reached clear to me and steered my life in a certain direction. I realized, too, that I can blame her for my weird obsession with cats. <br />
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Some of my favorite memories of my Granny are from the summer trips my cousin Meri and I used to take to St. George. We would drink Diet Pepsi for breakfast, swim, lay out, sit in the hot pot with Grandpa, play Garbage Rummy, and get Granny Gen to rent us any movie we wanted. <i>The Shining</i>? Sure. On our way south for one of these trips, my grandma had my grandpa pull over. She got out of the car, went into a house, and came out with a tiny Siamese kitten. She handed the kitten to me and Meri in the back seat, and we spent the five-hour drive with that little kitty on our laps. Best road trip ever. <br />
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I sometimes feel like life can be filled with a lot of gray, highlighted with the occasional splash of color. And while I think my Granny Gen often lived in that gray place, the bits of color she added to the world were vivid and bold and very much her own. She colored my life in a way that I am still sorting out, and I'm going to miss her very much.<br />
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<br />Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03159904018799055261noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3493259116159281591.post-48973962637309345872014-11-20T12:57:00.000-08:002014-11-20T12:57:07.849-08:00Hello KittyTwo Saturdays ago I locked myself in my room as a last-ditch effort to escape my out-of-control 4 year old. Not one to be outdone, she proceeded to try to kick down the door--all while still screaming like a maniac, of course. That's when Nic, who will be quick to try and tell you that we were <i>both</i> out of control, finally intervened.* <br />
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But let's rewind.<br />
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We have a growth chart by our kitchen. Norah is constantly wanting to measure herself. And Lettie. And Mom. And Dad. Which is fine; that's what it's for. On Saturday she wanted to measure her purple Hello Kitty from a birthday trip to Build-a-Bear two years ago. <br />
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The problem started after I wrote "Hello Kitty" next to the nearly 2-foot-tall mark: <br />
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"No, Mom. That's not how you spell 'Hello Kitty!'"<br />
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"Um, yes it is. See? H-E-L-L-O..."<br />
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"NO! That's not how you spell Hello Kitty! You spelled it wrong!!"<br />
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"Norah, I didn't spell it wrong."<br />
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"YOU SPELLED IT WRONG!!! *collapses on the floor* You're supposed to spell it C-N-O..." *yells other random letters she's learned in preschool*<br />
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"Okay, then you come write it how you want."<br />
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"No! I want YOU to write it!"<br />
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"I already did!!!"<br />
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"YOU SPELLED IT WRONG!!!!"<br />
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... <br />
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After years of having to learn how to deal with me, Nic thinks it's hysterical when I have to try to rationalize with an irrational person. You guys, Norah can be so irrational these days! Each time it happens I swear I'm going to handle it better. And Nic was home for this one, so I was determined to show him that I could get things under control. In hindsight, yelling back at her about how I <i>get paid money</i> to know how to spell things was probably not the best choice. But you know what? I was done talking about it.<br />
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She won't stay in her room when she's throwing a fit. There's no audience. Which is why I ended up locked in my room with her banging down the door. At least I could ignore her in there. That's when Nic clearly had enough of the two of us trying to work it out. He has a way of helping Norah calm down when I can't. I'm pretty sure it's called patience, which I clearly lack.<br />
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And Norah has little patience for me. Apparently, I'm always doing it wrong, as you can see from this recent Facebook post: <br />
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There's not really a moral to this story, other than my daughter and I need to learn how to communicate differences without freaking out at each other. Wish us luck.<br />
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But for the record, I totally spelled it right.<br />
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<br />Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03159904018799055261noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3493259116159281591.post-10291280431951019652014-10-28T12:47:00.001-07:002014-10-28T12:47:56.089-07:00But reallyI know I was overly cheery in my last post. Motherhood can do that to me. But don't worry, you don't have to punch me in the face. One minute being home with kids will be the best thing in the history of ever and then <i>someone</i> *cough, Lettie, cough* will get her two month shots and I'll find myself trying to soothe a screaming infant while having a full-blown argument with a 4 year old about why I can't go get her chocolate chips "RIGHT NOW!" You should ask Nic how fun it was to get that phone call.<br />
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I'm assuming it's about the same for anyone who's ever had a child. <br />
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Norah took this picture of me the other day and I'm kind of in love with it: unshowered; those stupid ugly basketball shorts that are so comfy; bags under my eyes; and dirty diaper, TV remote, and toys in the background. So much of the past 10 weeks has looked exactly like this, and I'd really like to remember that. <br />
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<br />Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03159904018799055261noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3493259116159281591.post-31063109110167838472014-10-08T21:19:00.000-07:002014-10-08T21:19:15.284-07:00Lettie Kay Stewart<span style="font-size: small;">She's here! Okay, she's been here for going on 8 weeks. And know what? She is SO nice. I keep thinking she's tricking me. It's just that she's nice, like, <i>all</i> the time. How is that possible? She does the normal newborn things. Eat, sleep, poop, look around. But the <i>way</i> she does them. She's all, "Hey, I could probably eat now." Then, "Thanks for the bottle. I think I'll just close my eyes and sleep through any ridiculously loud noises my big sister might make. Oh, and when you get the chance, could you please change my bum? Thanks." And then she'll wake up all smiley because she's just <i>so damn nice</i>. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">I was induced on August 17th. There was a lot more waiting than I thought there would be with an induction. I guess I assumed that they would give me Pitocin and, bam, there would be a baby. Did not expect to watch <i>The Great Gatsby</i>. But when things started happening, they happened quickly. My doctor got there and with two pushes, our baby was born. They gave her to me immediately but then immediately took her back because apparently our babies don't know how to breathe when they're born. This happened with Norah too. So there was a quiet time in the delivery room while everyone made sure the baby was breathing properly. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">I keep saying "baby" because at this point, she still had no name. It was clear that she wasn't an Olive or Hazel like I had thought. That first night I kept going back to Violet because the only name that seemed to fit her was Lettie. (Lettie being short for Violet, one of the other names I suggested to Nic, who was in charge of choosing her name.) But I never said that out loud. About midday the next day, Nic was rocking her in our hospital room when he looked up at me and said, "What about just Lettie?" And I knew that was it. Of course that was it. That has always been it, we just didn't know it until then. I asked him about a middle name and he said what about Kay, after his mom, Debra Kay. Yep. There she was: our little Lettie Kay.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Little Lettie Kay indeed. As soon as Lettie was born the nurse commented on how small she was, but with the breathing issues it took a while to get her on the scale. I still kind of can't believe that she was only 5 pounds, 6 ounces. So, so small. I measured small my entire pregnancy, but in my mind there was still no way I could have that small of a baby. I didn't even buy newborn diapers or clothes because I thought the 0-3 size would be small enough. Being the parent of a 4 year old, you'd think I'd be used to being wrong.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">And Norah. Norah could not be more excited about her little sister. My parents watched her while we were in the hospital, and Norah could not stop talking about "her baby" who was "so darling cute." She is still over the moon in love with Lettie. That's going to last forever, right?</span><br />
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-</style><span style="font-size: small;">Now, I don't know if it's Lettie's niceness that is making me enjoy my maternity leave
much more this time around or if it's having Norah here to hang out with us
or it's just that I have so much less anxiety with No. 2, but the past few
weeks have been really great. (Well, besides Nic having to deal with three
herniated discs in his back, but that's a whole post of its own.) Oh, and the
help. I've had <i>a lot</i> of help, mostly in the form of grandparents. They
have been my saving grace, picking up Norah from preschool, taking Norah
overnight, watching the girls so we can go to doctor's appointments, and on and
on. I know I'm super spoiled that way--and I'm ridiculously spoiled with these two amazing daughters. </span><br />
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Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03159904018799055261noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3493259116159281591.post-29532776216844341772014-08-16T09:56:00.002-07:002014-08-16T09:56:59.423-07:00The big sisterAn only child for a few more days, Norah has been busy getting ready to be a big sister. (As a side note, she told me yesterday that she's "exhausted of this baby." Oh really? <i>You're</i> exhausted? I'm going to say that to you when you're nine months pregnant, jerk.) And this baby is <i>her </i>baby--that's what she says. "I'm having a baby," "My baby..."<br />
<br />
Partly because I felt so guilty for spending December/January on the couch, I signed Norah up for a few too many activities this spring. Swim lessons did not go well. She wanted nothing to do with whatever the teacher was saying. The last time we went, she ended up crying on my lap at the edge of the pool. Sigh. We'll try again another time...<br />
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We had a major break through when we got her one of the Puddle Jumpers water-wing things though. Swimming is now one of her favorite things and she's kind of fearless, even swimming in the middle of Flaming Gorge with no help. <br />
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Dance class went <i>way</i> better. It's perfect because it's for an hour once a week. Oh, and she got to dress up in this getup for her pictures and recital. <br />
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Getting her dance pictures taking was one of my favorite things in the history of ever. We had just got back from her Spartan race in Las Vegas, so I think she was in tough-girl picture mode. The photographer kept telling her to show him her princess smile, and she kept doing muscles and gritting her teeth. She had the whole room laughing. Here's a couple that were deemed acceptable as "princess-like" I guess. <br />
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Her class photo was a similar story. She was just too darn excited to listen to anything she was supposed to do.<br />
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And then there was her recital. She did not lack enthusiasm, but never did really learn her dance. Her performance consisted of her standing on the stage, half paying attention, half messing with her dress. But of course afterward, she danced in the stands the entire time. <br />
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Best of all, she got a trophy. Can you tell that she was just a little bit excited?<br />
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Soccer went well too. Okay, it went well in the same way that dance went well. Norah had a ton of fun but never quite got the hang of it. She was the kid picking dandelions midfield while the rest of the kids chased the ball. <br />
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She did score two goals this season. Both in the wrong goal. <br />
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And she got another trophy. </div>
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Now she's started preschool and has been riding that high for the last few weeks. She chose to bring her Rainbow Dash to show and tell yesterday and was SO excited because all the kids thought it was "so cool." </div>
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I love her enthusiasm about life. Everything is so fun! and so amazing! and yay! She's equally exited about this baby--which I'm hoping continues to be the case. </div>
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<!-- Blogger automated replacement: "https://images-blogger-opensocial.googleusercontent.com/gadgets/proxy?url=http%3A%2F%2F3.bp.blogspot.com%2F-M1_IKPq02o8%2FU-0c92ezPRI%2FAAAAAAAACn0%2FhnKIhvHBbBg%2Fs1600%2Fpreschool%252B2.jpg&container=blogger&gadget=a&rewriteMime=image%2F*" with "https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM5lXM66EvsZpb21fOwCprbdfBBJq8JUly2s0VsMzkvNAyrr8HbfOU1URqg2cHKCeZls1vEOqWQiWMic13VIxrIxL4Ipgr-1QEIHPJnI0zPtB54VbwCZAPAZlIoQw5WTfrMG8s3ukEMGE/s1600/preschool+2.jpg" -->Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03159904018799055261noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3493259116159281591.post-63742529725550455882014-08-12T10:18:00.003-07:002014-08-12T10:18:19.598-07:00I'm having a baby. In five days.Poor baby number two. She's not even here yet and she's already playing second fiddle. As in, when I was pregnant with Norah, I at least attempted to have regular updates. And here I am, nine months into this pregnancy, and I'm just now writing about it.<br />
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Part of the problem, okay, the <i>majority </i>of the problem, is that this is what pregnancy feels like to me (except there's no way I could currently lay on my stomach):<br />
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And it's not that I'm more sick than anyone else or that there is anything in particular wrong, it's just...nope. Every day is pushing through that feeling of <i>oh my goodness how am I supposed to do anything</i> <i>when all I feel like I can do is absolutely nothing</i>?<br />
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But we have been doing things. Lots of things, actually. And it's turned out to be an amazing summer full of dance recitals, soccer, swimming, camping, boating, birthdays, friends, and family. Nic and Norah have been amazing and have dealt with my nope-ness like champs. <br />
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So instead of regular pregnancy updates, here's a succession of photos, starting when I was like five months pregnant in May at the Goldilocks bike ride:<br />
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And since this is my blog, I get to create my own reality and post only the pictures of me when I wasn't wearing basketball shorts and Nic's old work shirts, which was about 1 percent of the time.<br />
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Nic ran the 13-mile Spartan Beast on June 28. I walked the half-mile kids course with Norah because I'm tough like that.<br />
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Boating at Pine View for the Fourth of July.<br />
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And last week. Again, I'm tricking you by posting pictures of me in a dress. Suckers. <br />
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<br />Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03159904018799055261noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3493259116159281591.post-86645246477513469042014-07-02T10:49:00.001-07:002014-07-02T10:49:44.352-07:00Costa RicaI'm not a planner. I tell myself it's because I'm not good at it, but it's really because I plain don't like it and it gives me anxiety. It drives Nic crazy--because even when I do make plans, I always fail to tell him in a timely manner. You know, so he can make plans based on the sort-of plans in my head. It gets even trickier when he asks for details. Stuff like, "When <i>is</i> this 20-mile bike ride?" Me: "Um, Saturday?" He's a patient man. <br />
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Earlier this year, Alissa called and told me about a surf camp in Costa Rica she was thinking of going to as a way to get some perspective in this tricky balancing game we play of being moms, wives, friends, daughters, and also, you know, <i>humans</i>. I would have never planned anything like this on my own, but when Alissa said she was going, I told her I was too. And as far as I was concerned, I had my plans. I was going to Costa Rica with Alissa in February. Where in Costa Rica? (My doctor was the first to ask me this specific question.) Um, you know, Costa Rica. In February. With Alissa. Why are you giving me the third degree?!?<br />
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And bless the kind, kind hearts of our patient husbands. All I had to do was tell Nic that I was going and give Jon my credit card number to book my ticket. Done and done. I'll just gloss over the part where we arrived in San Jose and had a little confusion with my connecting flight to where we would be staying in Malpais. In hindsight, we should have maybe figured out how to make international calls on our phones <i>before </i>we were out of the country, but remember the whole "I'm a terrible planner" thing? So we spent a little extra time in the San Jose airport and got the next connecting flight. </div>
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See? It all works out eventually. We made it on our plane and to our destination. </div>
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And can I tell you about our destination? Malpais (yes, I did eventually learn the name of where we were staying) is magical. Our little spot on the beach was <i>magical</i>. <br />
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You're looking at my favorite spot of our whole adventure: the porch of our cabana. I could sip Coke Light and nibble on chocolate here for eternity. <br />
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Oh, but the surf camp that we came for! Right. We were maybe not the best students. Our instructor, Helen, bless her heart, was amazing. I really did give it my best effort for the first few hours of the first two days. And guess what? I'm a <i>terrible </i>surfer. Like, I am really not good at it. I could barely get up on the board for a few seconds in the white water. My working theory is that being three months pregnant was the problem. It's easier to think that than admit that I was just really, really bad. <br />
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Alissa, however, <i>killed </i>it. <br />
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For a more accurate picture of our surf lessons, refer to these pictures. For me, it was perfection.</div>
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We found that we were maybe better suited for boogie boarding. <br />
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Also included in this CliffNotes version of our trip is practicing my hermit crab whistling skills, a zip line tour through the canopy, morning yoga on the beach, a Costa Rican rodeo, awards for our awesomeness, and my first baby belly shot.</div>
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There really is so much more. But if I could only share one thing from our trip, it would be this picture:</div>
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This sums up what we found in Costa Rica. And for this pair of moms, it was life changing.</div>
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Given that the race in Temecula was on a lake shore and the race in Las Vegas was in a gravel pit, I don't feel too bad about missing out in Vegas. Here I am trying to do the barbwire crawl without swishing the tiny little critter in my belly: <br />
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We also got the Kings to come join us! Even more awesome is that Jon bought a season pass to the races, which means we get to see them even more throughout the year.<br />
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I wasn't thinking clearly so I didn't bring Norah to California even though Alice Jean King was going to be there. Her and Russell ran the kids race, and I made Nic promise not to tattle on me to Norah about the whole thing.<br />
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Prego lady!<br />
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For the Vegas race Nic was on top of things and made sure that we brought the kiddo to have a campover and run the kids race with her bestie.<br />
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Sorry, Nic. I didn't get pictures of your race, but how adorable are these?!? <br />
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<!-- Blogger automated replacement: "https://images-blogger-opensocial.googleusercontent.com/gadgets/proxy?url=http%3A%2F%2F4.bp.blogspot.com%2F-kqRVy3oVfMg%2FU2KDmOyUFhI%2FAAAAAAAACf4%2FyE7-BMwVSuE%2Fs1600%2F10154227_10153973475890321_7798387810938992347_n.jpg&container=blogger&gadget=a&rewriteMime=image%2F*" with "https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixJpSS6z-Y0-E6pKSMs0OXJNzk3YwdYS-455shWYPMTuMnwEtBfw2uG6wBJRxie2dlqOEibBt8eSSOBKJp_Hjdrnyi6ik_m86bUj3ooJjf6zQRAFKIQDDFi6CJApCN_zObCh8QPpGNkKw/s1600/10154227_10153973475890321_7798387810938992347_n.jpg" -->Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03159904018799055261noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3493259116159281591.post-62023735680786312382014-04-30T13:39:00.002-07:002014-04-30T13:42:02.739-07:00Getting it togetherWith moving and living in the basement for all of last summer and into the fall, I let a lot of things slide on the parenting front. Things I swore I'd never do, like use Pull-Ups or let a three year old have a binky. But you see, with all of the chaos, Norah regressed on her potty training and it got to the point where I just DID NOT CARE if she wore Pull-Ups at night for the rest of her life. And the binky thing? She didn't use it during the day, but at night? At night you better believe I gave her the plug. There was also the waking up multiple times a night. I knew I needed to get rid of the binky and help her figure out how to put herself back to sleep, but <i>bleh</i>. She had been being such a good sleeper that I was in denial of having to go through the whole process again. <br />
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The point is that when we finally got settled into our new house we had a lot of work to do. And when I say "work," I mostly mean bribery. It started with the binky. I took her to the store to let her choose a prize for when she threw them away. She opted for some cheap princess high-heels and plastic jewelry. The first few nights were kind of a novelty and she did pretty well--but then it set in that she couldn't have her binky. I would tuck her in and she'd say, "Mom, I need something. I <i>need</i> something." I'd ask her what she needed and she would proceed to <i>describe </i>a binky to me. "I need something round...and green..." It was like the most exhausting game of Catch Phrase you've ever played. But she did it. She was binky free for good.<br />
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And that's when the obsessing about her blanket started. <br />
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She started out waking up screaming because I needed to "flip" her blanket. I would try, desperately, to flip that stupid blanket and it was NEVER RIGHT. Then she started to want the corners tucked in where her bed met the wall. I could also never do that right. The "blanket" she was using was a yard and a half of Minnie Mouse fleece, which still had a white selvedge edge on one side because I'm awesome like that. One night she was obsessing about which side the white edge was on, giving me the grand idea to just cut off the white. Perfect solution in my mind. I started cutting and she lost. her. mind. I tried to backtrack, even taping the stupid thing back together. And that? That was our lowest point. If she was an adult, I would have had her committed. Actually, I would have liked to commit myself because then I wouldn't have to deal with the blanket tantrums. <br />
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While she was obsessing about her blanket at night, she was also dreaming about a kitty costume during the day--a "pink kitty costume with a nose and whiskers and a pink kitty belly and a tail." So we agreed that she could have a kitty costume if she stopped screaming about her blanket. This is what I came up with: <br />
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What a cute little crazy person, right? My sole motivation for making that kitty costume was to tell her I was going to throw it away if she started crying about the blanket situation at night. I had to use the threat a lot, but it worked. </div>
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She did great at night for a while, but slowly started waking up again. She didn't scream about the blanket anymore, she just screamed. At this point I had also found out that I was pregnant, and I seriously could not bear the thought of having a newborn <i>and </i>a toddler who wouldn't sleep through the night. I resorted to bribery again. This time she wanted a mermaid tail for the swimming pool. She saw it in a magazine at Grandma Debbie's and HAD to have it. So I put the smallest amount of effort possible into a goal chart to stick on the fridge. At first I told her that she had to get ten stickers to get the prize, but that quickly changed to five. (I couldn't even be bothered to buy new stickers. I pulled the Minnie Mouse ones out of her coloring book.) It took her a few weeks, but she did it. </div>
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And now, months later? Now she is doing great. *Knocks on wood* No more binkies and no more screaming at night. We also got rid of the Pull-Ups because she just stopped wetting the bed at night (which seemed way too easy...). <br />
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Before Norah was born, I thought a lot of things about parenting. One of those things was how I wasn't going to bribe my kids. Hahahahahaha. Hahahaha. Ha.<br />
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That's all. Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03159904018799055261noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3493259116159281591.post-63301660791121316502014-01-28T13:16:00.000-08:002014-01-28T13:16:33.831-08:00My birthdayFor my birthday, we flew back to California for another Spartan race. Yes, another. <a href="http://erinandnic.blogspot.com/2013/09/that-time-we-went-all-way-to-virginia.html" target="_blank">Remember the other one when I wanted to die on top of the mountains in Virginia?</a> Well, this one was much, much better. It helped that it was only 3+ miles instead of 8+.<br />
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You guys, it was so much fun. This one was held in Malibu. Before we got there, I had visions of myself running along the beach in the warm ocean air. When we got there, however, it was 40 degrees and raining. I was SO not prepared for it to be cold. Here we are pre-race. I think we're trying to make tough faces, but it just looks like we're constipated. It was SO COLD!<br />
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Here's a few of us in action:<br />
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And post-race. It was so cold!<br />
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After being so completely and utterly unprepared for the race in Virginia, this was a real confidence boost. We'll see if I feel the same after the next 8-miler in April!Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03159904018799055261noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3493259116159281591.post-69528902074281575452014-01-16T13:14:00.000-08:002014-01-16T13:24:52.647-08:00Thanksgiving road trip, part IIFor dinner on Thanksgiving, we had takeout nachos and tacos and it was <i>divine</i>. We then celebrated with a proper Thanksgiving dinner on Friday. When we went to check out at Trader Joe's, the guy was super confused as to why we would be purchasing all the makings for a Thanksgiving dinner the day after Thanksgiving. I couldn't get these weirdos to take a decent picture--but here it is: proof that it happened. And none of this was my doing, by the way. We supplied groceries; Jon and Alissa did all the actual work.<br />
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And now for the real reason this post needed two parts: more pictures! There is nothing more magical than a photo shoot at the beach with my favorite people. It didn't take Norah long to get topless.<br />
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Just two more of these best weirdos:<br />
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<br />Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03159904018799055261noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3493259116159281591.post-28719013331538679392014-01-09T13:44:00.001-08:002014-01-09T13:44:54.951-08:00Thanksgiving road trip, part IWe wanted to get out of town for Thanksgiving. Originally, we planned a fishing trip to New Mexico with my family. That fell through, but we still wanted to get away. Nic suggested California, so I called Alissa and it all fell into place.<br />
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It was meant to be, because Alissa and I headed straight to L.A. as soon as we got into town. NBD, just met Nigel Lythgoe as we were waiting in the VIP line for the So You Think You Can Dance? tour. Oh, and we were, like, six rows from the front. Best Thanksgiving eve in the history of ever! And keeping with tradition, we got very lost downtown and had to make a few frantic phone calls to Jon. Luckily--and creepily--he could SEE us on satellite GPS and tell us where we were supposed to park.<br />
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The next day, Thanksgiving Day, we went to Disneyland--just because. Not only did we go to Disneyland, <i>we had breakfast with Minnie Mouse</i>. You know, just the one character that Norah is OBSESSED with. She seriously owes me nothing but kindness for the rest of her life. Here's the two little punks ready to go. Please note that I did not plan this outfit. Alissa just happens to have an entire selection of frilly little girl dresses that are perfect for Thanksgiving at Disneyland. You know, like you do.<br />
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Seriously, these kids don't even know how good they have it. The breakfast was actually breakfast with Minnie Mouse <i>and friends</i>, so we got visited by quite a few character as we waited for the guest of honor.<br />
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That Tigger was seriously handsy.<br />
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Further evidence of how Norah is only allowed to say nice things about me for all of forever. Hugs and twirling with Minnie Mouse.<br />
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Norah even got Minnie and the other characters to autograph her paper.</div>
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Of course, we also visited Minnie Mouse at her house later in the day. Notice the addition of pink sequined mouse ears? That was Norah's request, and I couldn't refuse. Because if you're going to go to Disneyland for Thanksgiving, why not pay a ridiculous amount of money for a pair of ridiculously shiny ears? It's pretty much required. </div>
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One of the fun things about Norah and Disneyland is that she is equally as excited about Minnie Mouse...and pretty much everything else. Like during the parade. What? Dancing elves?!? Awesome!!!<br />
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Of course, we had to ride Dumbo. That's the ride I remember as a kid. <br />
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But my favorite ride was the teacups. Nic got us going ridiculously fast, and these kids were killing me the whole time. <br />
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<br />Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03159904018799055261noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3493259116159281591.post-57145056421819619262014-01-07T12:57:00.001-08:002014-01-07T12:57:12.928-08:00These two make me swoon<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Seriously. That girl helping that guy work on cars. Be still my heart!Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03159904018799055261noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3493259116159281591.post-60324146089564352922014-01-07T10:04:00.000-08:002014-01-07T10:04:07.980-08:00Apples! and Halloween!I don't want to talk about how I'm still posting about stuff from last year.<br />
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Apples happened! Norah was in heaven. In fact, she was so devastated when we told her it was time to go home that her poor little heart nearly couldn't take it. Grandma Wendy took pity and had her stay for a sleep over. What a lucky little turd, right? Of course, I'm referring to myself because how many people have parents who will just take their kid for the night on a whim?<br />
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And Halloween! Norah decided that she wanted to be Tinkerbell. I did my very best to convince her that she wanted to be ZOMBIE Tinkerbell. And I was pretty sure I'd convinced her too--until one day in the grocery store she looked at me and said she just wanted to be Regular Tinkerbell. Fine. Regular Tinkerbell.</div>
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We got her costume way too early and she insisted on wearing it all. the. time. Sup was not as impressed.</div>
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She even wore it to a friend's birthday party. Whatever.<br />
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Halloween day started at my work, where Norah demands candy each time I take her--and she always gets it, Halloween or not. <br />
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Why am I wearing that stupid bear hat and making that stupid face? Norah insisted that I have a costume and this is what I had. Our photographer at work sneaked around the corner and ended up sharing this gem with the entire company. <br />
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<br />My work was followed by Grandma Wendy's and Papa Brian's BYU work, where she was one of the only children trick-or-treating and made quite the haul.<br />
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AFTER THAT we had trick-or-treating in Eagle Mountain with Mary, Korbin, Quinny, Kyler, Mel, Addy, and Jacob. <br />
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Notice that she would not use her cute Halloween bag. She only wanted a plastic grocery sack.<br />
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<br />In addition to actual Halloween, Norah also had quite the Halloween month, including Halloween magnets and sugar cookies. So spoiled!<br />
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<br />Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03159904018799055261noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3493259116159281591.post-84827650262776142752013-12-12T10:21:00.000-08:002013-12-12T10:21:15.109-08:00Lake PowellHey! We also went to Lake Powell with the Stewarts this summer. Norah was in heaven being with her cousins 24/7. We got her a Tinkerbell "fishing hook," and Nic helped all the kids fish pretty much all day, every day. We basically stayed in swim suits the whole time, which was good because I forgot to pack extra underwear for Nic. <br />
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<br />Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03159904018799055261noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3493259116159281591.post-13530865340460984282013-12-12T10:11:00.004-08:002013-12-12T10:11:56.730-08:00Dirty Dash<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I know, I know. We moved. Got a new house, etc. I'll get to that. But I have a lot of catching up to do--and my house is far from housewarming-party ready. After the Spartan, I ran the Dirty Dash with these ladies. (They're the only reason I was sad to leave Eagle Mountain.) And unlike the Spartan in Virginia, I actually had fun and didn't want to die or nearly poop myself on the trail. Here's our before and after:</div>
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<br />Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03159904018799055261noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3493259116159281591.post-9002737460326591792013-09-18T10:05:00.001-07:002013-09-19T13:46:06.908-07:00That time we went all the way to Virginia just to exercise...or...What happens when Nic calls me a wussy...or...Why did I think I was in good enough shape to run a Spartan race?So, a while ago, Nic went to Texas to run a <a href="http://www.spartanrace.com/index.html" target="_blank">Spartan race</a> with his brothers. It was a Spartan Sprint, meaning it was five miles plus obstacles. Right around his birthday, he ran the Spartan Beast in Utah, which was 13 miles. My mom, Norah, and I went to cheer him on, and as we watched the racers near the finish line, quite a few of them would stand up from the barbed-wire crawl, dizzy and tired, and nearly fall into the barriers on the side of the trail--they were SO exhausted. Here's Nic after the crawl at the end. He's not even phased.<br />
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Here we are all smiling after it was over. Well, Nic and I are smiling; Norah was very concerned about the amount of mud on her father. But take note of Nic with that big ol' grin on his face, because there is a picture of me coming up after I ran a Spartan race and it is <i>strikingly </i>different.</div>
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No really, I didn't even stand up for my "after" picture. These guys think they're so tough. Turds.<br />
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The thing is, I've always thought that I was so tough too--at least compared to most women. So when I told Nic that the race looked kind of fun and that I kind of felt left out and maybe I'll run one with you next time and he told me that would be cool but could I really run a Spartan race? because I'm kind of a wussy...I nearly lost my mind. In fact, I did lose my mind. Because I thought for sure I could run any stupid race I wanted to and HOW DARE HE think that I'm a wussy, let alone say it to my face. I'll show him!<br />
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And that is how I ended up running the Virginia Super Spartan.<br />
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Eight miles, 20-something obstacles. No problem, right? I was most worried about my upper-body strength. You see, if you fail on an obstacle, you have to do 30 burpees, so the extent of my training involved push-ups and such. I already go to a spin class at work twice a week and I can run, whatever, so again: thought I would be fine.<br />
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We made a trip of it. Nic's brothers haven't traveled much, so we spent a day at the mall in D.C. Look at me--so naive. <br />
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The night before the race we stuffed our faces with amazing BBQ. That is a $20 beef short rib Nic is about to demolish.<br />
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Here's our "before." So very, very naive. I got an email from the race a few days before saying that it would take some people seven or eight hours to finish. Nic assured me that it would not. Wanna know how long it took me? Six. Six hours. Six hours for eight miles.<br />
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What I didn't factor in was the location of the race. It was at the Wintergreen ski resort and basically followed the black diamond ski slopes. The first two miles were straight up the mountain. And it was in those two miles that I realized how completely and utterly over my head I was. Like, I didn't know if I could do it. And if the straight up wasn't enough, then you went straight back down, but how about go down a waterfall thing and then go straight back up again. And then if <i>that </i>wasn't enough, go straight back up again, but carry a giant log on your shoulder for a mile this time. It makes me feel better to note here that some people were dry-heaving or throwing up at this point.<br />
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Here's the race map that lists the obstacles:<br />
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Here's us at the sand bag carry. This is probably somewhere between mile two and three. Notice the look on Nic's face and then look at mine.<br />
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Now, you may want to check out for a second, because it's about to get real up in here. Remember how I stuffed my face with BBQ the night before? You guys, at this point, not only did I think that I wasn't going to survive, I also thought that I was going to poop myself on the trail in the process. There was not a port-a-potty until MILE SIX. Nic actually found a discarded roll of toilet paper and carried it for me just in case I had to make a mad dash for the bushes. That's true love. <br />
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At one point, Nic's brother Cory told me that he would carry me up the mountain. I'm not exactly sure what I said to him, but it had something to do with how I would roll my cold, dead corpse down the stupid mountain before I would ever let him touch me. You guys, I was in a dark, dark place.<br />
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Here's Nic on the mile-long log carry. How dare he look so not tired! <br />
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Someone also offered to carry my log for me, and again, I told them to go straight to hell--or something like that.<br />
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Here we are at the finish. The finish! And while no one had to carry me, I did allow them to lift me over the 8-foot walls, and Justin ended up with my Camelbak. Oh, and the burpees I earned for not being able to do some of the obstacles, I allowed them to be split up between my team mates.<br />
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The "after" photo that I imagined was one of me proudly wearing my medal. You know, with a look on my face like, "Ha, I showed Nic. I'm no wussy!"<br />
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Here's the reality:<br />
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To put a little more perspective into how evil this course was, think of this: The Utah race was 13 miles. It took Nic three and a half hours to finish. This race was eight miles, and without me holding him back, it took Nic four and a half hours to finish. It took him an EXTRA HOUR to go five FEWER miles. Some people took over ten hours; some people didn't finish. <br />
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Now that I'm not climbing that cursed mountain, I'm so glad I did it. Nic and I have never done anything like that together before--and although I wanted to gouge his eyes out when he tried to tell me to push myself harder, I couldn't ask for a better team mate.<br />
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Nic also told me that I'm the toughest girl he knows in real life but am still a wussy compared to him. And you know what? I'll totally good with that.Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03159904018799055261noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3493259116159281591.post-6930318656494854712013-09-17T11:01:00.000-07:002013-09-17T11:01:03.443-07:00Cousins!So back in April...<br />
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Back in April, Piper and Ellie came to visit us. Oh, and Josh and Jess, too. See what I did there? <br />
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But how much are you dying from this picture of Norah and Ellie at the zoo? Because I'm dying over here. These cousins came to visit before they left us--THEY LEFT US--to go off and live in Greece. As if Virginia wasn't far enough away! <br />
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Norah was in heaven with these girls--we all were. We went to the aquarium, the children's museum at the Gateway, they had a sleepover and went to the BYU lacrosse game, we got to celebrate my mom's birthday all together. Sigh. I still can't believe they left us! Sorry, Jess.<br />
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The great thing is it's September and Norah is still talking about Piper and Ellie. So it makes me feel a little better knowing that they'll hit it off just as quickly next time. As a special bonus, we'll get to take a trip to Greece sometime soonish. And each time I try to tell Nic that Norah IS NOT COMING, I think of these pictures and am nearly convinced that it would be worth the plane ride with a toddler. <br />
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<br />Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03159904018799055261noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3493259116159281591.post-17153514775816061172013-09-12T13:35:00.004-07:002013-09-12T13:38:00.472-07:00Tiny humans<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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We're spoiled. We get to go to California at least twice a year, usually more. And hanging out with these little people just keeps getting better and better. Plus, Norah is turning into an amazing traveler. Last year, I felt like I would never be able to leave the house again without having her throw up on someone's carpet. Now, she is my favorite little travel buddy. She knows that ice cream is the best way to kill time before your flight at the airport.</div>
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She insists on doing an "airplane dance" after we land. </div>
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And she is also learning the art of the selfie. Watch out, Facebook. </div>
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We are also spoiled by the King family, who are the most amazing hosts and make us feel right at home. Alice even wrapped up her very own shopping cart so Norah could open it and play while her actual shopping-cart-birthday-present was being shipped to our house. </div>
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And these girls. These girls! They even turn waiting for a waffle sandwich into a photo op.</div>
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I know a lot of people go to California to go to Disneyland--we've done that too. But the main attraction for us is staying at Alissa's house in the forest.<br />
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We did venture out to the natural history museum in L.A., which is humongous! And awesome! Norah and Russell had so much fun. This next picture is so funny to me it hurts. Why is she posing like that? It looks like an weird 80s portrait to me--like there should be another image of just her head in the background.<br />
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Kind of like this:<br />
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Oh, and Russell is rad.</div>
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Here's my view of Norah in the forest. Uh! I could eat her up!<br />
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And this? This makes my heart so happy it might explode. LOOK AT THESE GIRLS! No, seriously. Look at these girls. Your life is now complete. <br />
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<br />Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03159904018799055261noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3493259116159281591.post-62994748113925624902013-09-09T14:00:00.003-07:002013-09-18T10:04:10.146-07:00Grandpa Blaine<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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My Grandpa Blaine passed away recently.<br />
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At the funeral, my dad said something that kind of sums everything up for me. Having thought about "success" a lot in his life, when my dad thinks of someone who is truly successful, he thinks of Blaine. He was a man who radiated love and joy. He was slow to anger and quick to do good. He was patient and kind. He meant a lot to me, and the tears that have come since his passing don't come from sadness but from knowing how much I will miss him.<br />
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He made me feel special each time I saw him. As it all played out and cousins, aunts, uncles, and family shared their feelings on Facebook, on their own blogs, at the funeral, and since, I've been reminded of how Blaine had this effect on everyone in his life. Each one of us knew how much our grandpa loved us. We all felt special. Talk about success, right?<br />
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At the funeral, I leaned in to ask my Granny Gen how she was doing, and she asked me, "What do you do when you turn over and there's no one there?" Besides breaking my heart, she also reminded me of how I felt when my <a href="http://erinandnic.blogspot.com/2010/09/passing-on.html" target="_blank">Grandpa Brinkerhoff passed away</a>. Sometimes I feel like life is so full of pain and heartbreak that I just can't bear it. But each day I'm reminded of how amazingly full my life is. The loss of such an amazing person reminds me how precious time is. It makes me squeeze Norah a little tighter and be more consciously grateful to have Nic by my side. It reminds me to keep working toward true success and to not care about anything else.<br />
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I miss my grandpa. I miss his smile, his love, and his hotcakes. But how lucky am I to have a lifetime full of memories to smile about?<br />
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Here's my mom and I on the day of the funeral in Fielding in front of the old rock house where my grandpa grew up. It's a short drive from the cemetery where he's now buried. Being there was a cathartic way for the day to come full circle. Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03159904018799055261noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3493259116159281591.post-79908154138879544762013-09-09T10:31:00.000-07:002013-09-09T10:31:34.171-07:00Out of orderYou know, like my life.<br />
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We've been out of town for the past three weekends, plus I haven't even put up pictures from Norah's birthday. But I WILL. I swear it (maybe...)<br />
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Spending time with this human is getting better and better. She was nighttime sliding the other day and had to take off her dress so it wouldn't keep slowing her down. I kept asking her to look at me for a picture, and as she climbed up the slide she yelled back, "My BUTT is looking at you!" <br />
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And that's pretty much how things are right now.Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03159904018799055261noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3493259116159281591.post-51638591453451365842013-06-25T09:54:00.000-07:002013-06-25T09:54:23.041-07:00Homeless, homelessI don't mean to hurt Debbie's feelings when I say that we're homeless. She has, of course, fully opened her home--and her bounteous kitchen--to our little family. But it's so strange being without a place of our own. And also, I don't deal well with change. Actually, I'm horrible at it. And guess what? So is Norah. Poor, poor Nic. <br />
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So, yah. We listed our home in Eagle Mountain and it sold within a couple of weeks. That was awesome for my anxiety about selling our house before our new house was finished. But remember the part about Norah and I being terrible with change? The first night we went to sleep at Grandma Debbie's, Norah told me that she just wanted to go to her home and rest for a little while. And that's all I wanted to do, too.<br />
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You see, we've lived in our lovely little home for seven years--nearly our entire married lives. Norah hasn't known anything else. I had the best support system there, with two neighbors who have become some of my closest friends.<br />
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Norah was completely potty trained, and then when we moved in May, she was completely not. Her anxiety came out in reverting back to old habits and not sleeping, like, at all. My and Nic's anxiety came out in the form of depression. It wasn't the best couple of weeks.<br />
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I completely realize that how ridiculous this all is. <i>Oh, you had to move out of your perfectly beautiful home so you can build a bigger, even more beautiful home?</i> Someone needs to slap me in the face. Really, you're welcome to hit me over the head and tell me about your <i>actual </i>problems. <br />
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Most of all, though, I'm just grateful. I'm a better, more whole person than I was when I entered this home. Our time in this space in this little part of the world has been the best of my life. And I will always have that with me.<br />
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<br />Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03159904018799055261noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3493259116159281591.post-61073922986810512672013-06-05T13:21:00.002-07:002013-06-05T13:22:26.699-07:00In order of importance<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Hey, did I ever mention that we sold our house? We'll have to talk about that later because, you guys, this happened:<br />
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Travis Wall posing for a picture with ME happened. I'm STILL geeking out!!!<br />
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Followers of my life know that I am a HUGE fan of So You Think You Can Dance? Like, an uber-fan. Like a 12-year-old girl celebrity crush infatuation. Like, I've watched the show for 10 years, go to the performance tours, go to the live auditions, and have been to a live taping. I'm that person. And I am unashamed!!!<br />
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For those of you who don't know, Travis Wall was the season 2 runner up and has been a love of my life ever since. He now choreographs for the show and has a dance company, Shaping Sound, that's currently on tour. Nic and I saw the performance a couple weeks ago at Capitol Theatre. I wish I had better words for how good it was. We were two rows from the stage. We could hear the dancers breathing and landing. I could feel the air moving. Oh, what I wouldn't give to be able to move my body like that for one single second. <br />
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We had a babysitter, thank you Mom and Dad, so we didn't have to be in a hurry to leave afterward. All the dancers were mingling, you know, like you do I guess. Travis came out and I was too nervous and shy to do anything. So Nic, my hero, walked right up to him, told him we were big fans, and took a picture for me. Travis even SMELLED amazing.<br />
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And that was it. I died. I'm actually dead right now writing this. <br />
<br />Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03159904018799055261noreply@blogger.com0