Ten things I have learned about Zach in 6 weeks

Ten Things I have learned about Zach in 6 weeks
1.       His toots are extremely stinky
2.       When he eats, he gorges himself with the first few sucks.
3.       His little lower lip quivers before he begins to cry.
4.       Having someone hold him under the armpits and bounce him up and down is his favorite thing….ever.
5.       He makes noises in his sleep, just like his daddy.
6.       He can’t take his eyes off of bright lights.
7.       He stops crying when daddy makes insanely loud and obnoxious noises at him.
8.       Zach loves his swing.
9.       He snorts like a pig.
10.   He cries and cries, but eventually can put himself to sleep. Whoop!

Labor

Dear Zach,

So you have been here for just over a week and we couldn’t be happier. You are a joy, and one handsome fella. You gave me the easiest pregnancy in the world, and I was hoping for an as easy labor or better. You gave me the latter. Your two awesome uncles, Max and Eric slept over on a Sunday night. We played games, hung out and giggled lots. This lasted way into the early hours of Monday morning.  Around one in the morning, I decided it was time you and I got some sleep, though that comes rare…however I don’t blame you too much. ;) Well one thirty comes, and I head to the bathroom. No surprise. Then 2 rolls around…same thing. Two thirty….three…three thirty…same story. This is unusual. Over and over I have to head to the bathroom, compared to the normal, few times a night. I didn’t think much of it and I don’t think anyone else in the house even noticed. Then the sharp pains were coming and going. Again, I didn’t think of it much. They weren’t regular and I wasn’t hunched over in pain or in a dead sweat like you will see in the movies. Well seven in the morning rolls around and your sleepy uncle Eric had to get up and get to school. So like the responsible sister I am, I checked if he was awake….of course he wasn’t, so I got him up and he headed off to school….probably without brushing his teeth. After he left, I headed back to bed. I try to get as much sleep as possible, but with you taking up all the room and comfort, it’s all in vain. Eight a.m. comes and Daddy and I decide we better start our day. We have a Dr. Apt at nine thirty, which means we get to see you on the ultra sound machine. That’s my favorite part of the day. It’s not very exciting any more though because you love to hide your head way in my pelvis, so the best shots we get now are of your femur. It’s an exciting and cute femur , so we will take it. Max had class at nine thirty also and rather than going early in the morning with Eric, he opted to sleep in and catch a ride with us conveniently. The time came, we took Max to school, and we headed to the Dr. Office. Wesley Davis is a wonderful Dr. Zach and always takes good care of you. He asked how things were and if we had any concerns before he checked how you were and did your ultrasound. I just mentioned being up all night, being a little wet each time and the sharp pains that weren’t far apart but not exactly consistent either.  He isn’t one to jump to conclusions or to cause alarm quickly so he just said, well let’s take a look and see how far you are and if that water is broken.

We were at 90% effaced 3 cm. He took a test to check our water, which he stated he was 90% sure it was broken. Then the ultra sound. He saw plenty of pockets of fluid but still said my story was an excellent one so sent your Daddy and me on an excursion to the hospital to do a more accurate, water breaking test.  Well finding labor and delivery was the hardest part of the day. Who knew you actually had to go through the doors that said, “Labor and delivery.” After about 30 minutes of looking, and asking various people, whom were clueless and unhelpful, where we needed to go to have this test taken, we found a nice lady that escorted us straight to the test site. Mommy got all dressed in the beautiful hospital gown and socks and was placed on a bed. The nice nurse started doing all sorts of things to you and me. I was put on an IV for fluids….and she asked if I wanted some numbing stuff for the IV! Mommy just thought that was the silliest thing she had ever heard. Mommy is tough; she didn’t need silly numbing for the little needle. Then a round machine was attached to my belly and…whala! Daddy and I could hear your fast little heartbeat. Well about half an hour in, our nurse decided that we were going to have you today. So she prepped us and took us to a delivery room. By this time, mommy was having pretty annoying contractions that were about every three minutes. Daddy figured; we are going to have a baby today so he sent out the word.
You had lots of people anxious to meet you. And you didn’t keep them waiting.  Guess what Zach! We really lucked out these entire ten long months.  But the last day was the best of them all. We were in the delivery room; Daddy was making calls and what not, while you and I were enjoying watching Friends and having “grin and bear it” contractions. Then our nurse asked us a question about an hour after we had been laying there. “Are you ready for an epidural?” At this time, we were at a four so Mommy wasn’t sure if she should wait or not because those icky contractions weren’t bringing tears to her eyes, but they weren’t something I enjoyed particularly well. Well the nurse informed me that the anesthesiologist was going to be out of commission for my use for about three hours if I didn’t have it now, so that made my decision easy. We had the shot an hour after we arrived, Daddy didn’t pass out and Mommy was feeling much better. Uncles Max and Eric came by to drop off some things, like Daddy’s laptop and Mommy’s pink brush, and then headed home to wait. Our good friend Heather Stephenson was in the building and dropped by to say hello. Also Grandma Wiser, or Nana, brought Daddy some food and he ate it in front of me while I enjoyed a red sucker. Our nice nurse came in to check how we were doing and decided that since I was progressing well enough on my own, she didn’t think we needed this yucky stuff called Pitocin. We did awesome, and only had it for about an hour before she made the call to stop it. Zach, from there you decided you couldn’t wait much longer to meet your anxious mom and dad so you went from a 4 to a 10 in about three hours and only needed 15 minutes of pushing from mom. The nice nurse had us push a few times, then the Dr. came in, we pushed one round of 3, and then on the last round, he had to use this cool tool that helped you out because your cord was slightly wrapped around your neck. Daddy thought you looked pretty scary with a cone head though. That’s all he could talk about for a long time. At 4:17 that afternoon, you took your first breath, Daddy cut your umbilical cord and you were sent to be cleaned. You came back weighing in at 6lbs and 12 oz and measuring 19.5 inches long. You were beautiful, (you still are) and Grandma G didn’t think you looked like a newborn because you weren’t swollen much and didn’t have that “squished” look.
After you were born, we went to our room and visited with Mommy and Daddy’s brothers and sisters and mom and dad. Everyone took turns holding you and smiling at your beautiful face. We didn’t do much in the hospital except play and have visitors. You had lots of people come see you. But by Wednesday, Mom and Dad were ready to get you home so we packed up our bags and your loaded bag and headed home early. You didn’t like getting in the car seat at first, but once you were snug and tight, you didn’t make a sound all the way home.
Zach you made things pretty easy on me, and although I complained a lot, because my darn jeans didn’t fit, we will work on that together. You were worth everything and more. It’s so great to have you in our lives. You don’t know how much you are loved and by how many people. I will put it simply. It’s a lot. You have only been in our home for a week now, but here are some fun things we already notice about you.
1.       You HATE getting your diaper changed.  You do well getting undressed for it, but once we start taking it off, out comes the screams. And wow, you are a strong little guy. As soon as we get that diaper on and set, you stop crying. Just a modest boy I guess.
2.       Burping is a skill you are not void of. You get that from your Dad. We will feed you, and as soon as we go to burp you, you belch like a champ.
3.       You absolutely love belly time. Rather than laying on your back, which you do great at, you would much rather be lying on mommy’s boobs on your belly. You curl your feet way up close to you and snug your tiny hands underneath your head and can be asleep in a few minutes like that.
4.       When we tickle your lips, you pucker them up to give us a big kiss.
5.       You go through a million and a half diapers every day.
6.       Often times, you hold your pee till mommy takes off your diaper and then in spite of having your diaper changed, you will pee on me instead of in the diaper.
7.       You LOVE your daddy very much.
8.       You only fuss when it’s time for a diaper change, or at your 1 in the morning feeding.

Rumination

My siblings are my best friends. We have a blast, anytime, anywhere, no matter what. Just this past Saturday, Max and Emily came to my house at 1 in the morning, slept over and left at 9 the same morning….yet it was still a joyous, remembrance. We have something unique compared to other siblings. Don’t even try to explain to me that your sibs are as cool. They aren’t. It’s always amusing to be asked how and why we are so close and to be exalted as examples that others want their children’s relationship to resemble. They witness our closeness, our goofiness, trustfulness and support of one another and that hopeful envy runs through their veins. Not a day goes by that I don’t speak to one of my siblings and it’s extremely rare that a week goes by that I haven’t spoken to them all multiple times. We vent, growl, exclaim, yell and goof off at one another, and it all ends in tears of happiness. After this gloat, and some input from the younger sib Max, I will now start my post.

Nostalgic Thoughts
Stomping
Max and I were conversing about this exact topic one late evening, when Emily arrived home from an eventful Homecoming Dance. Immediately, and without pre explanation, we asked her, what does this remind you off…? All Max said was thump thump thump. Emily’s prompt response….WHEN MOM NEEDED US FOR SOMETHING OR IF DINNER WAS READY!!!! And she was one hundred percent accurate. In Otown, we lived at 475 Hiland Dr. The home of champions. It was an older house and not as spacious as the Land of Bugs’ abode. We don’t know when or how it happened, but as a calling, my mother would pound on the ground when she was above level, three times, with her right foot, and we would all rise from below and be at her side. Usually it was the dinner bell; at times it was because she needed all of us, and other times, it was done by my father, more sternly…because we were being too loud. But we all knew what it meant and we all missed it when we moved. Solution….we told mother, and she is now going to start stomping again. YES!!!!
Scurrying
The Otown home was also creaky. Floor boards made it impossible to sneak into the kitchen, or scare someone. But it had its advantages. If we were running, not in bed when we were supposed to, we would hear either an even thump, thump,thump, or a limping thumpidy thump, thumpidy thump. The former being my even legged mother, the latter being the not so even legged father, and we knew they were coming down stairs. The loyalty to each other vanished immediately. Last man for himself. We scurried to our rooms as fast as possible. Our outlines were left in smoke as we trampled one another to be in our required bed and not get caught disobeying, because remember, we are perfect, kind, obedient children. But things changed again when the Land of Bugs was our place of residence. We were older, didn’t have a bed time, and if we were up after we were suggested to go to bed, it was due to being studious and acing a midterm paper or test. Bleh, not as fun.
Don’t wake up Daddy
Do you remember this family board game? Well we didn’t have it. We made it life size. It often happened Sunday afternoons, as dad was taking a nap on the floor of the family room. I hated this game. With a passion. I would have rather consumed my time with playing Nintendo….and I hated Nintendo. But this game. Dad was sleeping…so we thought….and we would proceed to risk our life. I have no idea how I got pressured to join the other three insane George’s in playing this, but we would quietly prance around our sleeping father’s body, and see how close we could get to him without waking him….then BAM. He would wake, snatch one of us, and tickle our entire, stiff, yet squiggly bodies violently. It hurt, especially when the infamous scratchy goatee was included in the torture. Rashes were formed and he wouldn’t stop because we were laughing. “If you don’t like it, why are you laughing still?” Then we would do everything in our weak bodies, to hold in the laugh, he would let us go, and we again, would try to prance around his “sleeping” body. What in the hell were we thinking? How in the world was this game fun? But it all ended, when the head of the George family was taken away drastically. Bishop. Bleh. Sundays were no longer fun.
Clean up Game
Max and I didn’t talk about this last night, but previously we have and I thought, and still do think, we were genius. One Christmas, Santa brought noodles. Remember the swimming floatation devices? Well he brought those but they were all sorts of sizes, included connectors and were of various colors. You could build a plethora of gadgets, castles and even a helicopter with them. We used them for years! When I became of age to babysit, this is when I become a genius and knew my mothering skills were excellent. I would take one of these noodles, connect them to a sword like handle, and tell my three young naive blood relatives, that it was a vacuum and if this vacuum were to touch any toys that were on the floor, it would suck up the toy and never be seen again. Not only did the house get cleaned, I was perceived as a great babysitter because I got the house cleaned, but I also avoided cleaning at the same time. It was a game, I was in charge and the basement was cleaned in record time. The time arrived, when my second in command brother figured out my scheme. So instead of throwing the game in the trash, he joined in. Now we had two vacuums and two cleaners. And the cleaning proceeded to occur, all while avoiding actual cleaning. Right?! Motherly. Clever, productive, fun and twisted.
There are many more adventures of the Georges that occurred at 475 Hiland Dr. but those are to be saved for another time. Peace.

An Altered Excursion

If you know me even a miniscule amount, you know that my second home would be the mountains. I love everything about them and camping in them makes the experience of nature even more mystic. The tent, dew, cot, mattress, cool morning air, evergreen scented breeze, campfire, Dutch oven, greasy pancakes, dirt under your fingernails, bug spray, lemonade, out houses, fishing, books, oh the books, hot dogs, mallows, hats, no mirrors and yes, no Facebook. It’s my paradise beyond all stated utopias that are available. My dream spot, as stated if you follow previous posts, #16 Moosehorn campsite in the Uintahs.

The past 6 days, Brian and I spent our time in a slightly different location. Strawberry. It was pleasant, but not the cool, long sleeved weather I was hoping for. The bugs were horrendous, but as I have said, that’s part of the experience so I could deal with it. It was hotter than camping should be, but cooler than O town, so I coped. Fire building was different also. That’s where my vent comes in….
I am 8 months pregnant. I hiked Martins Cove a month ago and granted was more tired than usual but kept pace with everyone and survived. Camping should be no big deal…but it was so much harder than I had imagined. I try not to complain a lot because it bothers the poop out of me when people grumble, but sometimes its ok I found. I am extremely uncomfortable and have this sensation of annoyance when people say they love being pregnant. Granted I have had the easiest pregnancy in the world. Not sure if that’s because my pain tolerance is pretty high, I don’t make a big deal about stupid things, or if it really has just been super easy, but I still have not loved it. Actually, I can say I loathe being pregnancy. Maybe it’s the selfish side of me coming out, but I am thinking, only once more is all I can take. Don’t get me wrong, I have never wanted more than to be a mother. I cry when I watch shows with children, I have been groomed to be a mother and on this pedestal, believe I will be a pretty good one. I can’t wait to hold Zach in my arms. But that’s where it ends. I want him out of me. I want my old jeans back. I want to wear my wedding ring again. I want this water in my body to drain. I want to sit without falling into my chair. I want to get out of that same chair using my legs and stomach muscles instead of my arms lifting me up. I want to be able to lean over and start a fire in a comfortable position rather than attempting to squat and fall in (yeah, still started the fire though). I couldn’t sit in those darn camping chairs for more than 10 minutes without wanting to scream, I about fell backwards every time I got out of one; I had to pee every hour, in the woods…awesome. I wanted to hike and explore, but Brian didn’t want to rush me to the hospital and it was uncomfortable so the longest I hiked was 2 miles on a dirt road. The drive in was extremely bumping and I was having a Braxton hicks contraction the whole time in…it took 45 minutes on that road to find our camp spot. I wasn’t much help setting up camp cause Brian is cautious at letting me lift anything heavy or putting too much effort out. I felt totally and completely helpless and it drove me to insanity. Plus I didn’t get to fish, so it was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Sunday I had a meltdown. I went to bed early, just to lay there because it’s impossible to sleep and Brian came in to check on me. I cried, told him I wanted to be done and I wanted my old body back. He held me and just let me cry. Didn’t try to fix it, he just held me and stroked my head. It’s amazing and what just a hug can do. He knew he couldn’t fix anything, but can’t say he knows how I feel so just being held was the perfect remedy. All in all, I still had a blast. It was a different camping experience and I was able to spend a lot of great time with my mother in law. We just talked and talked and read our books while the men hunted. Enjoyed the outdoors and the break from the day to day gung ho. Now that it’s over, Oct 13th seems so much closer. I still want to be done and have him here though. I am tired of everything hurting, even down to my fingers, but I have 6 weeks left. Pray for me…

CS

I am a supporter of CS. Not Lewis, but of Common Sense.  This post is going to be a ventation  (yep made that up) of anger and annoyance of those with the lack of. I read KSl.com at work sporadically, and it seems like all the articles are the same. Either someone has died in a raging water movement, the government has foiled with our finances again, or someone, primarily a women, has died by getting hit by the front runner or trax. The later is what my vent is about. There currently is a story about a woman that was walking parallel with the trax train in salt lake and decided to cross as soon as the oncoming train was passing. Whether this was suicide or incompetence, I get tired of reading these articles. How difficult is it really, to follow your mother’s advice and look left, then right, then left again? It’s not. For one thing, they are loud, second, they have designated crossing stations and third, if it’s the frontrunner, you have to go underneath the train warning poles. That there is clearly a sign to wait the…hmmmm…maybe 30 seconds it takes for the train to pass. It’s not fun to try and beat it, you aren’t cool and no one will think so. Especially if you are dead. Harsh? Maybe. I guess it depends on what their purpose was. If it was to be selfish and leave their families behind, fine. Mission accomplished. If it was to be cool, and set a new trend, fail. Dying will never be a trend. Grow up, have some common sense and think before you walk.

118

I am a fan of reading. A big fan. If I were stranded on an island, and could only have three things with me, I would have my Zune, nook and soccer ball. I remember staying up past my bed time with a flash light and my covers hiding me as I read late into the night. I love reading. One of my favorite classes of all time high school and college included was my 11th grade English class. Ms Call was my teacher and she truly helped me adore literature. Not just any literature, but well written, deep meaning literature. I fell in love with Hemingway, Salinger, Faulkner, Fitzgerald and Steinbeck. They wrote with passion, emphasis and meaning. And they didn’t write/publish everything that hoped onto paper. Ms. Call always said, the real authors don’t write dozens of books, but are remembered for the one or two masterpieces they fabricate. Which brings me to my rant. Danielle Steel. *Disclaimer* I haven’t read a book of hers. If you are a fan, don’t take this to heart. I can’t really judge her writing.
I was thoroughly enjoying one of my secret indulges this morning, watching The View. Lady Gaga was on and as crazy and weird that she is, when she is on the tube, you can’t help but watch and listen. I think that’s part of the magic of Gaga. She is mesmerizing. The funny thing is when she is speaking; she is eloquent and actually nice to listen too. As long as your eyes are closed. Anyway, tangent, after she was on, Danielle Steel was being interviewed and praised for her recent 118 book being published called Happy Birthday. First off. That is a terrible title. Second, again I haven’t delved into her writing, but it’s my understanding that it’s similar to women porn. I am not sure the difference between men looking at porn and women reading it, but as far as I am concerned there isn’t much of a variation. Third. who in their right mind can write 118 books that are well written and mottled in context? As you can tell, I am quite perplexed about the whole situation. Granted I am no editor, nor am I a writer so I guess it’s hard for anyone to take my opinion seriously due to my lack of creditials, but 118 novels? That’s like whipping out 2 a year…if she started writing at the age of say 5…..That’s a lot of crap pooled together and put into slightly varied novels. She also said she writes more than one book at a time. Ok!!! So I read more than one book at a time, but writing more than one at a single time. That’s outrageous. I would hope authors are putting everything they have into their work, planning, connecting and correlating things together. I.E. J.K. Rowling. Yes, it’s not the Tale of Two Cities, but it’s still a great series with more intertwining correlation than one person can begin to devour. But to whip out more than 2 books a year, that’s ludicrous and again I state, I have no credential, writing is just one of my beloved hobbies, but it’s outrageous and I find, shameful that she is loaded due to this garbage. Wow, the end. Done.

Grandparents

I have a very special relationship with my grandparents. None like any other. They are wonderful, adventurous, sarcastic, funny, talented, caring, loving, family oriented, hard core, hard working, determined and un-afraid of challenges. Right now they are on a mission. I am really starting to dislike these mission things. I am so family oriented that when one of these callings takes my family away from me, it breaks me into pieces. I keep most my emotions buried deep, hidden away, so that no one really knows what I am feeling and going through. It drives Brian insane. Absolutely insane. But I don’t like to cause trouble and burden others with things, so I just bury it. My grandparents have a skill that not even my parents can do. They bring those out. They allow me to share my feelings and have compassion for my trials and always, always are interested in what I have to say. They have lots’ of grandchildren. 27 I believe, but when you are with them, you feel like you are the only one and all they care about is what is going on in your life. So to say I have missed them while they have been serving at Martin’s Cove is a big understatement. When we got to our camp spot this weekend at the cove, they were there waiting for us and I leapt out of the car and ran into my grandma and grandpa’s open arms. I couldn’t give them enough hugs and wanted them to know how much I missed them. But the thing that hit me was the next day, when we were all getting ready to venture out to Annabelle’s baptism. My grandpa pulled me aside, talked to me about a few things, mentioned how he was feeling about a few things and of course I am crying as he is saying things because he just knows what was going on in my life. I hadn’t told him, no one had mentioned the things I was feeling, he just understood and saw “the obvious” as he worded it and he wasn’t even around to see it. I couldn’t believe the understanding and the love he shared with me. Knowing that I have his and my grandma’s full support in all that I do and that they recognize my accomplishments and share their pride with me gives me so much bliss. But I think the biggest thing they both do that I can’t praise enough, has been their full and complete support of Brian and the love they immediately shared with him. There was no question, he was a part of our family and he was treated exactly that way. Teased, mocked, joked around with and sarcastic. But never left out. It was never, “this is my granddaughter Sarah”. It was “this is my granddaughter Sarah and her husband Brian.” It’s funny. It’s just one simple saying, but that one inclusion of being introduced truly makes you feel welcomed and loved.
My grandma is the most resilient women I know. She is tough as nails, and will do anything to avoid attention when she has trials. While we were at Martin’s Cove, she was the only women out of 5 of us, to cross the chest high river, without being carried across! Yeah she is amazingly strong. She did this, after hiking 6 miles, and then continued to finish the next 2 miles afterwards. She thinks of her grandkids and loves them with every ounce in her blood. I love calling her and talking to her, because she is so enthralled with what is going on in your life, and remembers what’s important. It’s not the toys, the gifts or the adventures, but just the relationship. That’s what’s important.
My grandpa. Wow. I don’t know where to start. He is a tough man. Reminds me of John Wayne. Don’t ask me why. I just have always seen my grandpa when I hear or see John Wayne. For years, he was a hard, strict man, but then something happened and I think it was more me than him. He became a softy. A softy to me. Everything he does, he does for others. And he has this un-wavering care for you. I am 7 months pregnant right now, and while hiking 8 miles in the Wyoming heat, I felt his watchful eye and care for me the whole time. He would periodically ask me how I was doing, offer me a ride in a handcart and tell me to not be a hero, even though I know he knew I could handle the hike. He is a protector, and yet if you need a sincere hug and to be told “I love you” he will give it to you. His understanding ear, compassionate understanding and teasing personality is something I cannot even try to put into words. He is such an example to me and I can’t wait for Zach to get to know his great grandpa because he really is great.
Basically what it all comes down to, is I love my grandparents, love them more than anything and can’t wait to have them home again. They do so much for me, and understand my emotions, trials and way of being without me even having to say something and will always lend me their shoulder and their ear when I need it.

Annabelle's Baptism

This weekend was full of surprises and adventures. First off, we added a new member to our family. COOPER!!!! He is going to be our house dog and I am not allergic to him! Our hope is that it will help Zach not have allergies like me, and also act as his older sibling and make him patient. Who knows if it will help. We picked up cute Cooper on Wednesday and he was nameless for two days. It’s a scary feeling not having a name. You don’t exist till you have a name.  Cooper is a Shih Tzu Mini Dachshund mix and is 6 weeks old. He is going to be no more than 8-10 lbs and is the sleepiest puppy ever! He will sleep anywhere. We took him up to Martin’s Cove this weekend and he was a trooper! He is going to be such a wonderful dog. Speaking of Martin’s Cove, we ventured that way on Friday because my super cute cousin Annabelle was getting baptized up there on Saturday and we wanted to spend a few nights camping up there. My more than incredible grandparents are serving a mission aswell at the Cove so it gave us a great excuse to go camping, hangout with my cool cousins and see my grandparents.

Ok now on to the adventure. Brian and I were contemplating on whether we wanted to spend the night up at Martin’s Cove or just drive up Sat because of the new pup. Well he did such a wonderful job Thursday night that we decided to leave Friday after I got off at work at 2 and go. Because we weren’t sure what we were going to do, we had to hurriedly pack after I got off work and go get edible items to help our appetites while in the middle of now where. By the time we got on the freeway and headed out, it was about 4:30 in the afternoon. Martin’s cove is 5 hours away. We had headlamps and figured we could just set up the tent in the pitch dark. Well the drive was great. Brian and I had a lot of fun. It’s a lot more fun when you take a 5 hour trip with your best friend. Cooper did great. He sat in our laps most of the time and slept about 4 of the 5 hours. Our trusty  GPS lead us perfectly. Perfectly that is until 9:56 rolled around. It was dark. Very dark. And we were in Wyoming. Yippee. So we followed the GPS to where Martin’s Cove address was listed and guess where we pulled into….DUMBELL RANCH?!?! What do these missionaries do? Lift weights? Well we figured we needed to turn around due to the fact that we had passed signs that had said “Martin’s Cove Visiting Center here”. So we did, and what did we find? No missionaries or camp sites! By this time, the humor was dwinding in the situation. It was 10:30 and our butts hurt and we wanted to sleep. I was having illusions of having to park on the side of the middle of nowhere road and having an axe murder kill us and burying our bodies in the Wyoming desert. Thanks Martha. I attribute these illusions to your crazy creepy movies you have me watch. Anyway, we drove around the center for what seemed like hours and noticed a house with it’s lights on. So we pulled up and Brian went to talk to the owners. Luckily, he was a missionary. How did we know? Not the name tag no, but he opened the door in his garment top. That made me giggle. Anyway, we explained our situation and that we were here for the baptism in the morning and were looking for the Richards camp spot. They gave us directions that consisted of, “turn back the way you came, travel 10 miles and look for a sign and flag that said, Missionary Camp site. Awesome. This should be fun to find…

So we are puttin along in our 40 mpg corolla (yeah that’s right, we got 40 mpg) and pulled into this drive way area. There was a white car sitting there. GRANDPA!!!! He stayed up and waited for us so that we wouldn’t get lost! What a wonderful man. We followed him to the campsite we would be sharing with Michele and Troy and their awesome kido’s and Martha and Shad and their off spring. The tent was set up, cot’s up, air mattress blown, and sleeping bags laid out. Time for bed. And Cooped didn’t make a peep all night long! What a good boy. After saying our good nights and many hugs given to the best grandparents in the world after not getting one for 3 months, we were out.

The next day was the baptism and can I just say, if you get baptized outside, church attire should not be mandatory. Yet it was and we obeyed. Before we went to the river, we toured the visitors center with my grandparents telling us stories and showing all the exhibits to us. It was incredible. I am so glad I was born during this era, because I doubt I would have survived then. What took us 5 hours took them 17 days. Incredible. We ate a quick lunch and then headed to the river. It was a beautiful day, perfect for Annabelle! Pictures were taken, and kids were entertained. Tylor, the crazy outdoorsman he is, caught a frog that no one else could catch and all he did was scoop his hand down, snatch it and show it off. It was now 2 in the afternoon and we came to the conclusion that we all should hike Martin’s Cove. The trip was supposed to be 3 miles round trip, but we are Richards! We don’t skimp on the adventure part when it comes to escapades. So we packed the water, two hand carts, set the kidos in them and took off. 6 hours later we had hiked up to the cove, went around a mountain, took the long way home, crossed a river in hand carts and by walking and then arrived back at the center. It was fun, we all did it, and no one skimped out. I was amazed at how different it was hiking the whole time, which yes, came to be 8 miles, while prego. Everyone kept offering to pull me in a handcart or this buggy type thing, but I walked the entire time. I figured if they could do it 150 years ago without Nike’s, water bottles, spray bottles and mapped trails, I most certainly could walk 8 miles. Anyway, we all survived and the kids had a blast. I didn’t take my camera with me though, sad day. Figured we might get wet and I didn’t want to sacrifice the camera. 

After our hike, to say we were hungry is more than an understatement, we were starving. Thank goodness for Martha’s cooking. We had pulled pork sandwiches, chips, jello salad and green salad. Delish. We just sat, chatted and enjoyed one another’s company. I had a good talk with my grandpa and he brought me to tears. I love that man. After dinner, some yummy cobbler was devoured with n minutes and a fire was created. There is something so incredible about sitting around a campfire with your family and not saying a word. What a special day. Brian and I got up on Sunday, packed up, and headed home. It was a wonderful, short get away and such a fun time to spend with our families. 

Favorite!

Sleeping again! 

He would climb Brian's shoulder and
 sleep behind his neck. Crazy.

I thought this was funny.
As i took the picture, Brock was slapping
Scotty in the face and Trevor
is just posing for the camera. 

Annabelle getting ready for the plunge.
 Look at that awesome hair.

I promise, he does play. He just likes to sleep a lot.

Just sleeping on Brian's neck.

Cutie Pie!

Brian and Thatchor. Together as always.

Tylor just being Tylor.

Emily was kicking butt in Arizona
clogging her feet off as usual
and so she and my mom missed out.

This is suppose to be scary face,
 but Treagor just thinks Max
has a huge head and is extra creepy.

Frog captured!

Mr. Cool.

Girls Night

Well enough time had passed that a much needed Girl’s Night was required! We headed over to Chandra’s house where her chef of a husband Charles, made us Rachel Ray burgers. They were delish beyond delish. Then we did what all girls do, talk. We talked and talked for a while , then someone, “cough” Kelsey mentioned jumping off the roof and on to the trampoline….Wonderful! Hence the pictures of Jill on top of the roof.  The next half hour was spent trying to convince Jill no to jump, and sounding as if we were trying to prevent a suicide. Chandra and I got on the tramp, thinking it might prevent Jill from leaping, but after minutes and minutes, she decided she was going to do it, and we got off. Then Sarah decided if she laid on the tramp, she could at least absorb some of the spring, so Jill didn’t fly into the phone lines. Well all the sudden, she jumped. And survived. It was scary beyond belief. I sure hope my children aren’t as crazy. 

Begging her to get off.

The neighbors were concerned. I stopped
 watching and begging and just turned around. 

Denise's cool trick. Awesome.

Where she lived and we can laugh about it now. Nice Chandra.

Showing her tumbling skills.

Wave, and put  your shoe on.

Our gracious host! Thanks for a fun night.

Hit me. Like a ton of Bricks.

They couldn’t find the heart like they wanted. So we went for a second. My new favorite thing, targeted ultrasounds. I have always been a pretty blessed individual in the gene section. No major health issues, lots of hair on my head, and thankfully a fast metabolism. I never had to worry about my weight. I guess I still don’t but I swear, and I am not saying this to sound conceded, the worst part of pregnancy for me is seeing that number go up. I have never weighed this much and it’s been extremely difficult to deal with not fitting into my favorite jeans, having to make new holes in my belts, and seeing my full face. Brian keeps telling me to not worry, it will come off quickly and that it’s good to gain weight right now. I am gaining it only in my stomach, nothing else is growing but my tolerance of mirrors is now maxed. Yet those feelings came to an abrupt halt this morning. My first targeted ultra sound was about two months ago and it was good. Not great. He was wiggly, the tech was boring and fast and she couldn’t get a good shot of the heart. I wasn’t feeling his movements yet, it wasn’t real. Now, Zach and I have pushing contests. He pushes against my stomach, makes it bulge, and I push him back. He kicks like he is swimming and rolls like he is on a rollercoaster. He is there. It’s real. But this morning….wow. I am just going to attempt to describe it. Attempt, which may end in failure because it was so incredible.

His head is down, and feet are up. Up on the right side kicking a lot. He is biting his umbilical cord and drinking his own urine. All good signs. His extremities consist of two hands, two feet and ten phalanges on each. Two eyes, one nose and one mouth. He has the perfect heart, pumping as it should and all the ribs to protect his vitals. His brain is perfect, no concerns, just sitting there inside is tiny skull. He is 15 inches long and 2.5 lbs. Our due date is right on. October 13th, 2011. Doesn’t seem like that exciting does it? Except for the fact that it’s utterly and completely amazing that we created a human life.
Two things really strengthened in me this morning; I am growing a child, that in every way is perfect and I need to stop being so selfish, and the other, HOLY CRAP THE CHURCH IS TRUE. It’s not just enough to argue that science is sufficient to defend the creation of life. It’s too complicated. Too thought out. Too involved and to miraculous. Science doesn’t go to the depth of survival and mechanics like having the child swimming in a fluid that he urinates in, then drinks, takes practice breathes and lives in for months at a time, in order to prepare for the world out of his protective bubble. I scoff at science and those that don’t believe in the creation. Scoff I say. How can you not believe? No way is it possible that from monkey’s we were formed. Doesn’t make sense, again I scoff. I stopped worrying about my weight, about what I was going to do after he is born and truly realized that in a few short months, I was going to hold my baby boy in my arms. I have done a lot in my life, and my siblings and I have accomplished various undertakings. I have graduated high school top of my class, was seminary vice president, had/still have the best group of friends a teenager could ask for, paid my way through college, married a returned, wonderfully supportive, respective missionary, graduated college, have the best relationship with my siblings in the world, stayed out of debt, and so on. And this list is embarrassing to some of the accomplishments my siblings have done. Yet I hold this pride, this above all feeling that this is the biggest achievement out of them all, mine and Brian’s private little triumph of doing things right, in the right way at the right time. It’s nothing we flaunt, and billions of people have done it before us, but to me, it’s bigger than anything I have seen in my 23 years on this earth.
So what was my favorite part about this morning beside the fact that I can actually tell what my little boy is going to look like? We saw his femur. I don’t know why, and it might be silly, but his legs are so defined and strong that we saw, bright as day, his cute little femur. It couldn’t have been more than 2 inches long, but it was surrounded by muscle, veins, skin and blood. He is growing and I think that his cute, strong femur really set that in stone for me. I have a healthy baby boy. Also his nose. He has Brian’s nose no doubt. Short, cute and perfect. I hope he gets a lot of Brian’s attributes. His face is flawless, arms are strong and his personality is calm but active. He moves when we need him to move and he is calm when we need him to be calm. I haven’t been over protective this pregnancy; I have lived like I have always lived. A few alterations in my diet, (heating up my lunch meat sucks) but other than that, I want him to get use to life the way it will be out of the womb. I don’t know if you can tell how your child will behave outside, but he is going to be a wonderful boy. He has Brian’s personality already. Strong, determined and mindful of others needs. See you soon Zachy.

July 4th

For the fourth this year, we were split between familias. On saturday we spent all day with the George clan so thought that we would be fair and spend all day on Monday with the Wisers. It was a fun, relaxing day. There was a parade and a party thing at the park at 8 in the morning, but Brian and I slept in, and then Brian couldn't get his window rolled up so of course, he had to fix it before we did anything else. ;) So we missed the parade and the party. That was just fine though, I took an allergy medicine in the morning and was knocked out by 10 anyway. Thrilling? When everyone else came home, the window was fixed, we just hung out, made some delish sandwhiches and watched Saints and Soilders.
Brian and his dad usually compete in a 4wheel derby, but this year, they decided just to watch. Good thing too, because when we got over there, the boys and their toys were covered in mud. It was much gooyer than in years past. We headed home and Janelle and Jon ventured to a movie which left the rest of us up for a Zeppes run! Love that place. I need to remind myself, as tempting as the large may be, it's always difficult to get it down. After Zeppes, it was off to the BBQ. Brian loves fire and is in charge of getting the grill ready. We had burgers and hot dogs with jello, pototoe salad and bbq chips. Why is it that bbq chips are ONLY good in the summer. You will not catch me eating them in the winter. It's just wrong. After our food was eaten, we just hung around out side and chatted, let the dogs play and blew some bubbles. It was quite an enjoyable day.
Wisers have the perfect spot to watch fireworks also. Their backyard backs Fremont high, where the fireworks are shot, and we don't have to deal with crowds. It's perfect. Rylie wasn't such a fan of the fireworks. She wasn't scared, but protective. She kept pokin her head up, when a boom would go off, let out a small bark when Brian wasn't there and browse the scene. Maggie on the other hand was shivering the whole time with out letting out a peep. It's funny to see the differences. 

Brian's face looks a little to
 enthralled with the idea and his
 ablitiy to create fire.

Rylie and Maggie playing.

Brian playing with Rylie.

Urniating on the burgers to add flavor.

Wendy doing the "manly" duties.

This is just the most adorable picture.

Kraig being a goof.

Mom and Son.

Don't look at me, just focus
 on Brian. Ha is making a hilarious
 face that was entirely unintended. BWAHAHA

Rylie and Janelle playing with bubbles.

Truthful Tuesdays

My lovely sista Emily blogged about ten truths about herself and I thought I would do the same. She called it Ten Truths Tuesdays or something like that. So here we go.

1. I am absolutely terrible at video games.
2. I would rather spend my free time reading a good book, than playing on the computer, TV or mp3 player.
3. Porous things freak me out. I.E. volcanic rocks or ocean rocks. One time my brother max gave me a pancake that was super smooth on one side and porous on the other and it weirded me out and he kept telling me I was afraid of a pancake.
4. Soccer is my passion.
5. My best friends are my siblings.
6. I love the mountains with every ounce of love I have in my bones.
7. Phase ten, balderdash and scrabble are the shiz.
8. I own a wicked cool compound bow, an incredible Taurus .22 handgun, a 3 foot blo-gun, a unicycle and a cute puppet named Kenny.
9. I put cheese on everything.
10. I could eat cold cereal for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

Grandpa George's 80th Birthday Party

My Grandpa George turned 80 on June 30th of this year and of course that meant we had to party like it's 2011. Because my aunt and uncle are movie maniacs, they were gracious enough to allow 4 generations of George's to invade their small, quaint little cabin they own in Oakley. By the pictures, you wouldn't know that there were others there because the six of us, (Tyler included) just hung out because we see most of the side of the fam about once or twice a year. Some of them we haven't seen in 8 years! But it's always good to get together with them. We ate food, laughed, Eric pee'd in a millionaires toilet, and made lots of silly faces. It's always a good time when we get together. We variously get comments and questions on how we as siblings can get a long so well and why. Well we are each other's best friends. That's it. 

We don't often take normal pictures,
 but there were a few that we were
 able to sneak in

Em and I on there way there.
We JAMMED to Joseph and the Amazing
 Technicolor  Coat. Oh the  joys of our
 childhood. Sorry Brian. Ironically he
 is the only one who can sing
 and we were making his poor ears
bleed so badly that he had to whip out
the trusty iPod and tune us out.

We were trying to teach Max how to do the
 floppy mouth technique for pictures and he
 constantly closed one eye in  his meager attempts
 so we tried to imitate him, yet the
bar was set atrociously high, hence his height.

This is what we mean by his meager attempt,
 yet amazingly his ability to control his
right eye subconsciously.
If you need a comparison, Brian and Em have
the floppy mouth perfected to a T.

The master at work.

Just had to get this cute picture.

I find it amazing that we take hideous
pictures and they all consist of contorting
our faces, putting phalanges in our
 noses and often trying to eat someone.

Emily's lips are extremely weird
 and creepy. Quack.

There is a bird hanging from Emily's
 ears and I had to contain my self
from pulling it from her.

Eric's shirt is so HP, I love it. 

Man, I can't wait for my face to
not look so overly bloated.