Downsizing on Children

FOR SALE: Three curly haired toe heads, two males and one female. $260 each, or $700 for all three. Good with animals, mostly potty trained (only a couple accidents a week), very quiet. Redoing our backyard, so they have no place to play here/ Husband and I work all the time, so they are not getting the attention they need/ We're expecting an adorable lab puppy from our friend's litter, and don't have the room or energy for the puppy and the children. Will send pictures at request-- very beautiful, will definitely produce very attractive offspring. To a good home only.

This is far too early for me to be awake.

Ever since getting married, I've been really carrying over "sleeping time" into "getting ready for my day" time. Even with an internship that quasi requires getting dolled up, I usually wake up with just barely enough time to shower and clothe myself, and then hurriedly put on makeup in my office, which has resulted in it being MONTHS since I have straightened my hair. This is a monstrous deal for those of you who have been victims of me being unable to meet up with you until the ironing is done.

This morning, my notoriously small bladder woke me up a little after six, and little Peli was next to me, looking as innocent as possible, but experience told me otherwise. I knew her bladder was as ready to burst as mine, and the age old dilemma arose: Do I take her outside first, or do I relieve the pressure in my own system? I evaluated my own comfort, and decided I wouldn't make it all the way upstairs, wait long enough for her to go, and then back downstairs without making my own puddle on the floor. I leaned over to my slumbering husband and shook him, asking him to wake up and let the dog out please, but he was too unconscious to know what was going on (I call it laziness, but he claims he doesn't remember). I convinced myself that I could make it to the bathroom and still have time to let Peli out, and scurried across the cold wooden floor to answer nature's call. After relishing the euphoria that only comes with emptying a very full pee pouch, I went and opened the front door to allow Peli to experience her own joy. When she didn't go outside, warning bells went off in my head, and I stepped forward to turn on a light, and naturally, that step went right into a puddle of urine.

Blast.

So after cleaning up one of the great lakes, I found myself more awake than I usually am when my alarm goes off at seven and I snooze it until 7:15. Thus, here I am, contributing to the world in the best way I know how: blogging.

Yesterday was date night, which turned into date day because I was only at my internship for two hours, classes don't start until today, and the Boys and Girls Club is off until Thursday, and Bobby had the day off too. We buckled Peli into the car (because yes, dogs need seat belts too, and you can find an adapter at your local major pet store) and headed off in search of an animal shelter (because that's my idea of a good time). We ended up in Spanish Fork and found the cutest dog that we would adopt if we could (I'm still not convinced we can't, but I'm a little illogical in this area) and a tiny little kitten that sounds like it's barking when it meows. We bought a toy and a collar there (much cheaper than a pet store, and it goes to keeping one of the animals from being put to sleep), and headed off to find some place to hike. We ended up in Payson canyon, wandering around streams and the like, and we tested out our new water filter. The water was gross looking (the kind I wouldn't let Peli drink), but the filter worked so well that our water didn't even have a taste to it (I wonder if maybe they could make a crystal light flavored filter?). This area is also where we discovered Peli hesitates right outside of a body of water not because she is afraid, but because she wants to try to leap as far as she can over it and is trying to figure out the best way to land. She's kind of a super dog.

Further up the road, we ran into a mountain biker (not literally) who was telling us about some good trails nearby, but my focus was more on Peli to make sure she didn't take this newfound love of water and attempt leaping into a stream that looked a lot like Willy Wonka's chocolate river. Apparently, there was a great trail a little further up the road, and when we came to the entrance to a boyscout camp, Bobby asked, "Didn't the guy say we had to get through the boyscout camp to find the trail head?" I had no idea, so I just sorta nodded and headed in, ignoring the giant "NO TRESPASSERS" signs and the very large dogs locked up in an outdoor kennel.

It should be noted at this point that after walking through this camp, I have decided that boy scouts are no tougher than girl scouts. There was a pool, horseback riding, and porta potties. PORTA POTTIES??? We had wooden planks that we had to do our business through, and there were always stories of black widows and hornets living right under the 2x4's we put our bums on, so the next time I hear any smack from a boy scout about how they're so much tougher than girl scouts, I'm going to stick a wasp in their underwear and run away giggling. You have been warned.

My attention span didn't appreciate all the boy scoutiness for long, and in my boredom I asked if we could return home. I was tired, and I could tell Peli was tired. We started the trek back, and when we came in sight of the gated entrance, we saw a car and a man standing outside of the car, obviously giving directions. He turned and looked in our direction, and the logical thing to do would have been to just walk out, feign innocence/illiteracy, and go home.

Well, logical isn't fun, is it?

So instead, Bobby pointed up a very steep hill next to us and said to go that way, and to hurry. We ran up into the trees, and once we were out of sight, he stopped and said, "Isn't the river between us and the road?"

Blast.

We decided to give it a go anyway, and Peli with her mad skills managed to jump almost entirely over the river, getting just a little wet at the end. We hiked a bit further and came to another part of the river that we had to cross, as the road was just on the other side. There was a very narrow bridge at this point that was built across the spill way, and didn't go all the way across. When it stopped just short of the valve, Bobby picked up Peli and carried her across, as her gracefulness is almost equivalent with mine. When we reached the road, Bobby's arms were covered with mud, and rather than recognize them as tokens of our triumphant escape, he stated he wanted to wash them off in the stream right next to where we parked. We walked back down the road and eventually got to the stream, and I was trying to pull Peli back from licking some bones that were strewn about. I looked down at Bobby, and right next to where he was standing was the massive rib cage of a deer. He was looking around, and then started walking very briskly back to the car.

"Gross," I said, indicating the skeleton. He told me he saw three of them right next to each other, and that usually meant a bear or mountain lion lived nearby. As a former teddy bear lover, I was recently converted to the wet-my-pants-when-I-see-a-bear after having seen Grey's Anatomy last Thursday (the guy's INTESTINES were in Cristina's HANDS), and booked it to the car. I am often paranoid and freaked out when it's unnecessary, but I feel Bobby's acceleration makes my terror a little more justified.

And now that it's the time that I would be waking up, I guess it's time to bathe myself. Hot showers in the morning are so hard to turn off.

Boycotting Mother Nature

It snowed yesterday. One week until May, and it snowed. Of course, two seconds after it had stopped, all the snow was evaporating off the hot asphalt and had a rolling mist appearance that the kids loved. Yup, the kids. I started yesterday at the Boys and Girls club, and I can already tell that this is going to be the most fun I've ever had with a job. The kids are absolutely adorable. They're teaching me spanish, and one of them came up to me and said, "You're pretty." It may be some ploy to become my favorite kid, but I'm a sucker for all things adorable.

In spite of Mother Nature's bipolar diagnosis, Bobby and I are looking at taking our first camping trip this weekend. We got a tent that has a pet compartment, so Peli will get her own section all to herself. It doesn't make a whole lot of sense, because she insists on being with us all the time, but the fact that the manufacturers were thoughtful enough to consider the needs of an animal sold me on the tent. I'm usually the tight wad in the relationship, but again, I'm a sucker for all things adorable.

Now, off to getting bug repellent for Peli and a doggy first aid kit. I was reading up on dogs and camping, and I don't know what I'm going to do when I have kids, because reviewing all of the dangers Peli could get into about gave me a panic attack.

Playing with stitches.

It's become difficult to not fiddle with the stitches poking out of my hand. When I'm meeting with clients, I have a tendency to want to play with something, and if a pen or paperclip is not readily available (ie in my and already), I have found that I have taken to pulling on the little blue strings hanging out of my palm. It's quite fun, really, though in hindsight may have made my clients a little queasy/question my sanity.

This weekend was wonderful. Saturday, I finished cleaning the apartment (with my gimp hand and all) and managed to get lost going to WalMart to pick up some pictures (you'd think that after living in a place for nine months, you'd know how to get around). My mother in law came over Sunday morning, and we got to play with her for a while. We went hiking, went to church, and then ate an amazing meal prepared by Lori. Seriously, the more time I spend with her, the more I like her. It's so nice to have someone that wonderful living just upstairs. She invited us to go to the temple with her and Devin tomorrow evening, and on Saturday, we're going to see Devin's band play. His band's myspace page is myspace.com/forgottencharity. Have a listen and be jealous that I get to hear them live on Saturday.

So I'm a sucker for advertising, and there is this potent commercial for animal shelters and the like with Sarah McLachlan talking about donating money to help save the lives of these poor little animals with the saddest faces that have been abused and/or abandoned. It makes me want to go to the shelter and adopt a dog/cat right away, but I can only do that so many times before Bobby loses his mind (Peli was adopted from an animal rescue, and with how much I have spoiled her, I don't know that we could really afford another animal at the moment). Instead, I've been looking at another option-- dog training. We've been taking Peli to a puppy class, and she's enrolled in intermediate training and click a trick training (the first starts May 21st and the other in July), and after those she'll be doing advanced training and good citizen training, all so she can become a therapy dog. After finishing the puppy class, we can already tell a huge difference in how good she is behaviorally. We don't use a leash when we take her hiking because she always stays close, and when she does wander off a little bit, she looks back to make sure she can see us still and always comes when we call her. She was making me nervous yesterday on our hike when she was going down a steep drop to look for sticks, and after a couple times of telling her "no," she stopped. How great is that? Now, if dogs in the shelter were a little more well behaved like Peli is, it would be so much easier for them to be adopted. Bobby makes fun of me for having so many causes, but this is one that I can actually accomplish something in. I want to become a certified dog trainer and then volunteer my services at animal shelters to help "crazy" dogs become more adoptable. In looking at the programs offered to receive the proper education, it looks like it is going to cost a pretty penny, but I would be doing something I absolutely loved. I love helping people, but my experience at Center for Change showed me that I become really emotionally invested, and that's a big no no. If I was helping dogs, then I could become emotionally invested, because I would be training them so they could go to a loving home (and the ones that won't get adopted, I want to be a foster mommy for... now, if I can just convince Bobby of that...). It's always a happy ending that way. No more worries about my clients self harming or committing suicide. What a relief!

That's not to say I don't absolutely adore my internship, because I do (even if my clients have frustrating days, like today... hoo, boy). I recently moved into an office with a case manager who is graduating this week, and I found out today that he's a convert to the church and has had similar feelings and reactions to BYU as I have. He's so insightful and bright, and it's nice to know someone else out here who is a convert and has questioned a lot of things because of the culture of the campus. I am truly grateful I have figured out how to separate the gospel from different means of application. I know the church is true, and that Christ is at the head of this church. I'm not perfect all the time, and it's unfair of me to expect others to be. BYU is a collection of people, and people make mistakes sometimes. If BYU was the gospel in perfect application, it wouldn't be on this earth anymore. I'm not to the point where I can fogive BYU as easily for those little kinks in the makeup as other campuses, but eh. If I were perfect, I wouldn't be here either.

I'm so happy right now. Life is going so well, and I'm not even on my prozac. Here's to maintaining this feeling.

Secret life of wiggles.

The Secret Life Of Otters is on right now, and I want a pet otter. Of course, the pet otter will have to come after the pet chicken, which I am still trying to convince Bobby is a necessity for our yard/garden. I was about to comment on how much better I've gotten at typing with my gimp hand since the dreadful dish accident, but then it took me about eight tries to get that last sentence out. My policy teacher benefited greatly from that, though. I had to type my entire take home final instead of fill in the blanks with a writing utensil, so maybe that (and walking in with a brightly pink bandaged hand) will get me some bonus points. One more final to go, and the semester will be complete! One of the perks of attending BYU.

AUGH! THERE WAS A DEAD OTTER ON THE SIDE OF THE ROAD! Oh. My. Gosh.

Speaking of which, we watched "I Am Legend" the other day with Lori and Devin (our amazing landlords of loveliness) and when his german shepherd died, I definitely cried in front of everyone. It made me absolutely adore Lori, because she told me she can watch the commercials with the kids you can sponsor that are designed to tug at your heartstrings, and she gets sad, but when she watches the commercials for the dogs and cats in the shelter, she feels devastated and wants to do something immediately to help. She's grown up in Utah and doesn't act like a Uthoid, so I can understand why she feels that way. When you're surrounded by crazy all the time, it's hard to grow attached to humans in an empathetic sort of way. My excuse is that I'm emotionally damaged thanks to my mother's indifference, but I'm learning to cope through therapy (Yay, Dr. Isakson!).

Peli's trying to eat Chuck. Again.

I tried to post pictures the other day, but since the computer plugs in and I notoriously fight with technology, I shall try again.

Excellent! This is us at Peli's graduation. Peli looks absolutely thrilled to be the only one at puppy class that was forced to dress up for the big day.

Golly. I'm about to start singing Avril's "Complicated," but I'll try to refrain, as losing any dignity that may be left after constantly hurting myself seems to be a better survival tactic. Here's a picture of Bobby at his very first race, getting ready for warm up. His heart rate was at 130 before the race even started (his resting is 54). He was a wee bit nervous.

And now he is sitting next to me, giving me evil glares of doom because we're supposed to go hiking. Ta.

ouch.

My mother in law is coming into town today, and so I cleared my schedule yesterday to give myself enough time to clean the apartment. Our apartment has gotten quite messy, what with our busy schedules and our general apathy toward tidiness (I grew up with a microbiologist-- it takes a lot more than things growing fur to gross me out). So cleaning away I went, and I got a lot done. Bobby took the car to work instead of biking since I didn't anticipate needing it, and I realized after he left that my phone was in the car. Ah, well, without the phone, I can't be distracted from cleaning, right?

So with the living room clean, the kitchen scrubbed, and the dining room reorganized, it was 3:00 and I was ready to start on the dishes. We have no dishwasher, unless you count me, so they tend to pile up. I've gotten pretty fast at doing the dishes, and they don't gross me out like they do Bobby, so I'm okay with doing them. As I unveiled the piles of pans and bowls, I found where all of our glasses were. It seems we never have any, which is odd, since we bought 10 of them. There they were, in the bottom of the sink. I thought about how odd it was that we had yet to break one, and still we could never seem to have any clean in the cupboard.

As I was scrubbing out the inside of one, the top broke and my hand started shooting blood out of the area where the outside of my pinky meets my hand. I immediately shoved it under the stream of running water, and went to the drawer to grab a clean dish towel. Suddenly, all of what was convenient was no longer such. I had no phone to call my husband, and no car to get to an ER to get stitched up. I felt the symptoms of shock, and perhaps it was because of the lightheadedness that I wasn't thinking clearly. I put on my husband's flip flops and decided I would walk two miles to the bikeshop if my neighbors upstairs weren't home. I knocked on their door, called their name, and no one answered. I felt like I was going to throw up, and kept picturing the glass going into my hand and all the blood that came out, and didn't know if I could make it to the bikeshop. Just then, I heard keys going into the lock on the door behind me, and in walked Bobby.

"How'd you know to come home?!?" I showed him the cut, and off to the ER we went. 11 stitches later, I am so glad his manager decided to send Bobby home because he wasn't feeling well.

Kinda freaks me out how much Heavenly Father is looking out for me. Between that and having my bike accident right when two off duty paramedics were driving by, I wonder what the Lord has in store for me.

Application for Graduation should be less complicated.

Apparently the last test for graduation is trudging up to campus (when really, what senior spends that much time on campus? Why not play like the other universities and post the application online? No wonder people confuse Mormons with the Amish) to fill out a form before the 15th, which is tomorrow, and naturally, I have yet to complete this daunting task. My excuse is that I was waiting until it was warmer (three cheers for 75 degrees) to make the trip.

Bobby had his very first race this past weekend, and he completed it without any serious bodily injuries, which I am indeed grateful for. He was worried about completing the race with the group, and I was worried about him completing the race with his face. Being there made me miss biking, but it didn't make me miss falling and breaking several teeth (and in case you were wondering, I have finally forced myself to stop playing with the temporary. Only one more week to go!). On that note, we will be purchasing a couple mountain bikes early next month (I'm less afraid of going face first into dirt than into cement), and then for my birthday, Bobby will be getting me a pink version of one of these: http://www.waltscycle.com/trikes.htm

Jealous? You should be.

Yesterday was one of the best days I've had in a long time. We spent several hours hiking in the mountains with our landlords, who are pretty much a couple of the coolest people I've met in Utah. I absolutely adore Lori, and yesterday, we actually got to talk for a while, just the two of us, which is pretty significant for me (it takes a while for me to be comfortable with people enough to talk in a one on one setting). She's such a fun gal. We're going to go garage sale shopping sometime soon, which I'm excited for. It's nice to know someone who understands the pressure and frustration of being Suzy Homemaker, especially out here in Mormonville, where the ovary-carriers seem to think we're supposed to have a perfectly tidy home, go to school/work, make 10 course meals every day, and look like we've stepped out of a magazine. Unfortunately, I seem to lack the decorative gene, as well as the caring about fashion gene, because I wear what I like and what's comfortable, which lately has just been giant skirts from DownEast Basics paired with whatever shirt is clean (or not clean... really, being clean is not a prerequisite anymore. Who has time for laundry?). It's no wonder so many women are medicated (either by a professional, or self-medicating. SO many women out here do meth, which is shocking until you're immersed in the culture). Oh, not to mention all the women in my ward carrying around a couple month old child with their toothpick arms, with waists that beg the question of how much they paid their surrogate. I realize I'm being very judgmental, but to me, I see the women that still have the little extra belly, and I think that is SO beautiful. We're told left and right that we have to look a certain way, and after you have a baby, you have to kill yourself to get that way within a couple months. Gradually, okay, that's doable, but what on earth are you doing to make yourself rail thin after carrying a human being for nine months? I still harbor some serious guilt for neglecting my cat when I was disordered-- I cannot imagine how much time is being taken away from the chitluns to achieve the "ideal". I look forward to the stretch marks that will remind me of the miracle of carrying a behbeh. It's so cool! A sperm, an egg, and BAM! A human! Why would you want to get rid of that evidence as quickly as possible? You can be healthy without being obsessed. Blah.

Sorry.

At the race, there was a girl who was a little bigger that the others, and bikers wear spandex. There were some comments about how she shouldn't be wearing spandex, and I would have laughed at the ridiculousness of the comments if they weren't so sad. This girl was getting ready to bike 40 miles. I certainly can't bike 40 miles. If you're getting ready to pound out 40 miles in a race with other people, you're probably in decent shape. People train pretty hard for these things. So she's not a size 2. She's probably a lot healthier than I am, and healthier than a lot of people I know. I want to shake people sometimes.

But HEY! I get to go to the Jimmy Eat World and Paramore concert tonight. Jealous? Again. You should be.

New tooth, new blog.

I've decided to hop on the cool kids train and start a blog for Bobby and me. We've been married for nine months today, which means we could pop out a baby any day without any covert whispers about our true intentions for getting married. Ha! I truly cannot believe it's been nine months. I feel like I've been married forever, but also like it hasn't been long at all.

We made the trip to the dentist today, and finally got a temporary put on my root canal tooth residual from the dreadful bike accident I was in last August. It feels weird to have a tooth there that isn't all jagged and broken, which means that I am of course playing with it with my tongue and the temporary isn't going to last the two weeks until I get the actual crown. Stop it, Katie! *slaps face* The dentist we found is actually a guy that shops a lot at the bike shop Bobby works at, and cut us an amazing deal. I guess his wife needed five crowns done while they were in college, and he remembers how difficult it was to know that and not be able to afford to do anything about it. He's an incredibly nice guy, and has avoided charging us on anything he can. It's also the nicest dentist office I've ever been in (with a salt water tank that has a blow fish, which I have named Puff Daddy), so it's an incredible blessing that Bobby has been able to help out Dr. Jones as much as he has with his bikes so we can be in his good graces.

This past weekend was general conference, and we had the incredible opportunity of attending the last session. That's one of the perks of living in Utah. Our neighbors (who are also our landlords) got tickets and invited us to come with them. It's so nice living underneath people our age that are actually fun enough to want to spend time with. Chuck also adores their little cat, Kelso. Conference was so good. I absolutely adore President Monson. I couldn't believe how chatty people are in conference-- it seems so quiet in between talks when you're watching it on TV, but in person, people are whispering and talking between each speaker. When President Monson was speaking, the laughter was so loud! I would have thought it to be irreverent, except you could feel how much the brethren truly love each and every person in the church (and then some). It was so wonderful to be there. Even if we were in the nosebleed section.

Peli's graduating from puppy class this week. She has learned so much, and I cannot wait until she's a therapy dog. I've applied for a job with the Boys and Girls Club, and I want that job so badly! I think it would be a lot of fun to be able to bring Peli with me once she's certified, so then I can let kids play with a dog that might not have an opportunity to otherwise.

Peli's graduating in a few days, and then I'll be graduating. Not in a few days, but in a few months, and I can wait that long. My internship is so amazing. I absolutely love working with the guys I get to work with, and it has taught me so much about autism. I went into this internship not knowing a whole lot, which meant I had a lot of misconceptions about autism and asperger's, but these guys are so great. They have helped me so much more than I could help them, so why am I getting school credit and a paycheck? Utah really drives me crazy sometimes, and I miss Kansas and my ward so much, but the Lord is really looking out for me.

I've been thinking about my degree a lot. I really feel like I was meant to go into social work, and I feel like I have learned a lot, and that I am good at what I do. But lately, I've started to wonder if maybe I'm cut out for practice. I had plans of getting my master's, becoming a therapist, and then being able to work part-time, maybe from home, for individuals who couldn't afford therapy otherwise. Some things have happened though that have really shown me how sensitive I am, and how hard it is for me to be working with individuals and not let them affect me. That's why it's so devestating to me when someone dies, even if I wasn't that close to them. Every person I encounter has such a profound effect on me, and it's not really healthy for me to have that quality with this field. I wonder if I was prompted to go into it for the sole purpose of preparing for motherhood.

My brain is all over the place. This Saturday, Bobby's racing in his first race, and I actually get to go! It's nice to have my weekends free, so then I can actually pretend I'm married. The division he's entering only has 20 or so people signed up, which means he has a really good chance of placing well. As expensive as it is, I'm so glad he enjoys it so much, and that he has something to focus his obsessive energy on. I have my animals, he has his bikes.

Oo, speaking of animals... We got two gerbils shortly after getting married. They were fun for a while, then they got kind of skittish and weren't much fun to play with. So we would just make sure they had food and water, and let them do their thing. With the cat and dog, though, they were kind of... forgotten about. They were in the top of the closet for a couple of weeks when Bobby thought to check in on them. He brought the cage down, and then looked inside. He told me to sit down, and when I refused and asked if they were dead, he told me that one had eaten the other. All was left was the fur and some bones. Bobby took the surviving gerbil outside and let him go. Yuck. I guess they lived for a pretty long time, right?