Unpacking Update

So apparently I've found a new tool for manipulating my darling husband. Within hours of my unpacking post, Travis read it and unpacked yesterday afternoon. I guess the shame of having all 3 readers of this blog know that he still hadn't unpacked was motivation enough to do it.

The irony of it all is that it probably would have taken me far less time to unpack for him than to take the photos, download them, and write the blog entry.


Any Bets?

Travis has been home from Brazil for 2 weeks and 1 day now. I'm sure he has good reasons (things at work are ALWAYS crazy), but I have to ask... does anyone want to start a betting pool on how long until he unpacks his suitcase? I've already gone through it and pulled out everything that needed to be washed, but there are still several things inside it and the suitcase has migrated from the living room (2 days) to the office (7 days) to the bedroom (6 days). I could probably find places for the stuff still inside, and haul the empty suitcase down to the basement, but this time I thought it would be fun to see how long it takes for him to do it himself.


Horse Camp

We’ve signed up S for horse camp in Utah this summer. She’s finally old enough to go... we’ve been waiting for this since her first riding lesson at age 3. The hours of the camp are from 9-3 for three days. Here is the conversation that took place a few days ago:

“So when I’m at horse camp, I’m going to need a new sleeping bag, and maybe a tent since I’ll be out in the pasture with the horses all night.”

“Babe, you don’t actually sleep in the pasture. It’s just a day camp.”

“I thought I would be sleeping with the horses.”

She’s so literal. Never in a million years would I have guessed that in her 7 year old mind, she thought horse camp meant camping out with horses. But it makes perfect sense! The best part is that she was totally up for it. She definitely knew her parents wouldn’t be sleeping out with her, so I have to wonder if she thought she’d be doing it all alone, or with other campers. I have a feeling that either way, she would have been up for the challenge.



On Saturday T & I went into the city for one of our best friend’s birthday dinner. The location of the party was L’esquina. This is one of those NYC restaurants which seems to have reached urban legend status... I’ve heard about it, but no one I know has ever actually been inside. The entrance is this very run-down looking taco shop, which has a marquee outside with missing letters. You go up to the hostesses in the back and tell them the name of your party, and they lead you through a dark hallway, down stairs, through the kitchen, and into a cozy dining room with chunky wood tables and designer pendant lights. I have no idea how far in advance our host had to book the table; months? Years? We arrived at 7:00 and the place was pretty empty, but by the time we left at 10:00 you could barely walk through the bar area.

The food was amazing... I’ve never had such excellent Mexican fare in my life. It’s what I imagine REAL Mexican food being like: lots of fresh ingredients and vegetables, excellent beef, cilantro everywhere, and lucky for me, nothing was very spicy (I could write pages on heartburn alone). This is definitely NOT one of those Mexican places where no matter what you order, they bring you a plate of melted cheese. Los Hermanos, you know who you are!

Anyway, it’s also supposed to be quite the celebrity hang out, due to it’s low profile and inaccessibility. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hoping to bump into one of the rich and famous. On our way out, I headed to the bathrooms, which were indicated by a large WC on a sliding wood door. As I was going into one of the two doors, a man walked up to my friend M and asked if this was the line for the restroom. It was none other than Lance Armstrong. I headed into the bathroom, the whole time stressing that while I was peeing, someone would open the sliding door and Lance would catch me on the pot. I knew M was ahead of him in line, so there was a good chance she’d go into the adjacent bathroom and he would be heading into mine when I was done. I even tidied it up a bit: threw some TP that was on the ground in the trash and made sure the lid was closed. As I walked out he headed in, and I accidentally shut the light off with my shoulder.

I was surprised at how short he is; maybe 5’6”? This is my general impression when I see celebrities; they seem so small in real life. But other than that, he looks exactly like he does in magazines. He seems like a really nice, mellow guy (based on my 1.3 seconds of interaction with him). Overall, a pretty excellent star-spotting! And the perfect ending to a fabulous dinner with friends.


He's Back

After half a week in California, 2.5 weeks in Moscow, Shang-hi, Seoul and Tokyo, and 1 week in Brazil, the world traveler is finally back. There’s a good chance he’ll be going to India at the end of May, but for now he’s all ours again.

While I’ve been taking care of both kids and lugging around our 3rd (and the 40 extra pounds he’s added to my belly), Travis has been living the high life. Some samples of things he’s said in the past 24 hours:

“Man, my fingers really hurt from that manicure I got yesterday.”

“This is the picture from when we got free 15 minute massages on the roof and then went hot tubbing. This was definitely the worst massage of my trip.”

“I’m so sick of eating at 5 star restaurants.”

“Here’s a photo of the spa where we got 60 minute massages for 7 dollars.”

“I’m so exhausted. I’ve really been paying for things with my body.”

Excuse me? Have you seen MY body lately? He might be jet-lagged, but there is no chance the skin on my stomach will ever go back to normal. You know what we've been eating for the last month? Mac and cheese. Or anything that takes a minimal amount of cooking and cleaning up. Guess how many massages I've had in the last month? NONE. I did get a manicure and pedicure, but only because my mom is visiting.

Luckily he brought me back these 2 pairs of shoes from Brazil, both of which miraculously fit my massively swollen feet. Suchin, an MTV VJ who was traveling with Travis, picked out the fabulous lace-patterned jelly shoes for me. I’m planning to throw one at him every time he makes an obnoxious statement like the ones above.


My husband went to Moscow, Korea, China, and Japan, and all I got was this lousy handbag

But seriously... have you ever seen a more perfect purse in your life? I am in love. Travis has a real talent for getting me the things I never knew I always wanted. Baby names aside, the man really has great taste. I can't wait to take this baby out on the town... and I vow now to never let a sippy cup see the shangtung interior of this lovely bag!

It ALMOST makes having Travis gone for 4 of the last 6 weeks (while being 9 months pregnant) worth it. Almost.


It took pneumonia to convince my husband I was sick

Well --- I feel like I’ve just returned from battle. My body has been at war for almost 2 weeks now, and I finally am starting to feel like it’s a war I’m going to win. March 21st, the most productive day of my life, was rewarded with the worst sickness I’ve experienced to date. During the course of one day I was able to run 1.5 miles, walk 3 miles, lift weights, work for 4 hours and spring clean my house for 8 hours. At about 7pm I thought to myself “I have been WASTING my life away - every day should be this productive!” By 10pm I had a raging fever and wanted to die.

Thursday through Saturday Dave believed I was sick, but just thought I was a total wimp. While he kindly would run errands for me, he couldn’t help but make the occasional side comment – my personal favorite being “if you can’t keep these flowers alive while you’re sick, how are you going to keep our kids alive when you’re sick? You know you can’t just stop feeding the kids because you don’t feel well – like you did with these flowers.” On Sunday he finally bought a thermometer I think mostly to prove to me that I wasn’t as sick as I was acting. After taking my temperature 4 times and his 2 times to be sure the thing was working – he concluded that while my temperature was 102.5, according to the internet that wasn’t a “high” temperature and didn’t warrant a doctor’s visit. Also, he was pretty sure I had started acting “sicker” now that my temperature had been confirmed.

After a full day of delirious moaning, convulsing, and coughing – I was finally able to rouse some real empathy from Dave; but not enough to take me to the doctor. He was pretty sure a doctor’s visit would just make me feel worse – and I would be better off just staying in bed. Mean while every time I talked to my parents I would get yelled at for not having made it to the doctor yet. Finally by Monday (5 feverish days later) my boss commanded me to go to the doctor, and said she would pay for the cab if I couldn’t find a ride. Dave took me and was SHOCKED when I was diagnosed with pneumonia. I must admit I felt a real victory for about 45 minutes after the diagnosis, until I had told everyone I had pneumonia – and then was just sick with pneumonia, which isn’t nearly as fun as telling people you have pneumonia.

It has been almost 2 weeks since that fateful Wednesday and while the antibiotics have done wonders, I still feel constantly exhausted. I’ll sleep 12 hours, write an email, make a phone call – and then need a 4 hour nap. The worst part is everyone thinks I should be better by now. So, I’m still in a state of trying to convince everyone I really am, STILL, sick! My doctor offered to write me a note to ensure I only worked 4 hours a day for the next FIVE WEEKS. However my boss has been more than empathetic – but I do think I’ll need a note for the other people in my life. For example the person in my ward who when I told “I can’t teach seminary for a while – the doctor said the last thing I should be doing is getting up at 6am” suggested I just go to bed at 6pm. Or my husband who had 2 emails waiting for me my first day back at work in a week and a half. The first said "can you pick up a gift for my co-workers, daughter's birthday?" the second said "attached is my highschool reunion survey - can you fill it out and mail it in by the deadline?" FOR THE LOVE PEOPLE! Am I the boy who cried wolf? Why will no one believe that I’m sick!

Conference Fun

Last Sunday was Conference weekend. I had all kinds of projects planned to fill the hours I would be listening... and of all the things I had on the list, the only thing I actually accomplished was making Easter sugar cookies with the kids. C was by far the most devoted helper this time, and spent the entire 2nd session working on his cookies. I like how he's got a real 4th of July theme going here:

Here is the final product. They were delicious, if I do say so myself.


A Sign of Things to Come

Last Sunday I was in C’s primary class (have I mentioned the separation anxiety problem? It’s getting old.) and the kids were deciding where to sit. An adorable blonde girl said, “I get to sit by C!” and headed over to his side of the table, just as a brunette sat in the chair next to him. The blonde fell apart and started sobbing, and I pointed out to the brunette that Chloe had said first that she wanted to sit next to C. So unhappily the brunette moved to the next chair, and immediately put her head on the table and began to cry. C was completely unaware of all the drama unfolding around him.

They are only 4 years old. What am I in for when he’s a teenager? Yikes.