I love electricity.

There is a very specific reason that I was sent to this earth during this point in history... air-conditioning.

I wouldn't have made it a week into the summer during any pre-A/C time period. At least not in Las Vegas. I suppose I did, technically, survive two Rexburg summers without it... but we still had two fans and a swamp cooler. Not to mention it's a solid 15 degrees cooler there, minimum.

Our power went out for around 4 hours tonight. But we live on a well, so no power also means no water. Making it pretty difficult for this giant preggo belly to be any sort of comfortable in the stagnant 95 degree air. I mean, it would have been kind of fabulous if I could have just relaxed in a candlelit bath, eating all the popsicles and ice cream before they melted. Instead, I think I sweated off three pounds of water weight and killed the batteries in four flashlights.

Oh, but I did get to eat a bunch of popsicles... Baby Nugget is currently punishing me for that sugar rush.

Let's get back to no power = no water, and consequently, no flushing of the toilets. Yep. Nine months pregnant. A million glasses of water per day. Too many popsicles to count. No flushes. As soon as the lights came back on that was the FIRST thing I did. (There are other people in this house I have to be considerate toward.)

And thankfully we won't all have to "shower" in the pool tomorrow morning. That's never a good start to the day.

I suppose I would just like to express my appreciation for electricity, air-conditioning, popsicles, and indoor plumbing. You never know what you've got 'till it's gone.

seventeen days.

For real??!!

When did this happen?  How did I go from having months of pregnancy left to just over two weeks??  Let the freak-out commence!!

But honestly, I have no idea how to prepare for this little nugget.  I mean, sure, I have a whole list of things to set up and figure out, but then again, I may not even need them for another six weeks.

Things like:

[1] install baby's carseat
[2] set up the pack&play
[3] wash baby's clothes/blankets/etc.
[4] read up on caring for a newborn
[5] pack for the hospital
[6] clean the house
[7] pack for the move to Utah (ok, so this one I should have started months ago...)
[8] start & finish baby's quilts

And all that in seventeen days.  But in my head, I list these things out and simultaneously think:  She's not even coming home for at least four weeks - best case scenario.  And even if I do stay at the hospital 24/7, John and my parents are perfectly capable of installing a carseat and doing a load of laundry when the doctors finally give us the go-ahead to take her home.

And then I turn into a daydreamer and start to wonder what it would be like if they run all their tests and her heart turns out to be perfectly healthy, and all this was just Baby Nugget's idea of a good joke.  If that happened, I'd be ecstatic, I know, but I would be SO unprepared.  I'm really counting on having all this time in the hospital to learn from the nurses and soak in all the helpful information I possibly can.  I almost feel like it's cheating, a little bit.  To have a baby and then have a group of trained professionals practically write an owner's manual for me.  [You can ask anyone from my childhood - if there was a way to cheat at something, I would figure it out, and do it!!  Apparently I haven't quite outgrown that...]

husbandless, bugs, and the diaper bag.

John has been in California since Tuesday.  His little brother Timmy graduated high school, so he left his big, fat, preggo wife in the scorching desert heat and headed to the perfect climate of San Diego.  Rude. 

My dad went out of town, too.  So my mom and I were husbandless for a couple days.  It was a fun time.  Or, it could have been... we didn't do a whole lot.  We were really just excited that we didn't have to watch hockey or basketball for 24-hours!!

And on Wednesday I found a BUG inside the house.  We think the dog "killed" it and brought it inside as a prize.  But when I went to pick it up it started to crawl around!!!  Groooosssssssssssss!!!  So I caught it in a cup and saved it for everyone to see.  :)

My phone hates me a little bit, or I would also post the video I took.  We decided that it's a centipede.  But I didn't count the legs, so I can't be too sure.

Since John took my car to SD, I was stranded at home all day Wednesday with  "nothing" to do.  So, instead of cleaning or doing laundry, or figuring out how to install the baby's car seat,  I decided it was about time to make my diaper bag.  The pattern I bought has been sitting in a bag full of fabric and hardware for months.  I kept meaning to get it started, but there was always something else to do, or a nap to take.  But I really can't put anything off any longer, so the diaper bag was Wednesday's project.  And it took ALL of Wednesday.  Twelve straight hours of ironing, cutting, ironing, sewing, ironing, sewing, and more ironing.  It's probably the most impressive thing I've ever made...

[[handles and shoulder strap, front view, inside pockets, back view]]

I used iron-on vinyl on the lining fabric.  I'm hoping it will make spills a little easier to clean out.  You know, for the rare occasion I even think to clean it out!  But I'm wondering if there should be more interior pockets... like for a bottle/sippy-cup.  It's a little late now, I guess.  But in case I ever decide to spend another twelve hours on a re-do.


Today I started cutting out all the pieces for Baby Nugget's quilt.  It's gonna be a doozy!  Hopefully I can finish it before she gets here.  Only twenty-one more days!!  [yikes!]

Father's Day.

So, my dad's birthday is June 7th... and Father's Day is always just around the corner.  In recent years, he has followed in mine and my mother's example, demanding a "Birthday Week" [because one day just isn't enough!]  This year he decided to extend his personal holiday the entire ten days between his actual b-day and the nationally recognized day for fathers.  I can't say I blame him.  They're already so close, it would be silly to take a break from celebrating in the middle, just to start right back up again.

apparently my butt has always been gigantic.

My dad has had a mustache for my entire life.  And aside from pictures of him as a small child, I have never seen his upper lip.  I'm only about 46% sure it's even still there.

BYU-I graduation - 2010

wedding - 2011 [we almost got a smile there!!]

I like my dad.  I think I'll keep him around.  Especially because I think he's going to be SUCH  a cute grandpa!  The little Nugget is so lucky to have him.

This Father's Day was extra special, because I got to celebrate John, too!  Well, I gave him a card.  John is going to be the best dad.  It's been so hard planning out the next several months of our life [having a baby, law school, moving to Utah, the baby's surgery...] but John has been wonderful.  He's really going to sacrifice a lot, leaving me and the baby here while he starts school.  I know it will be incredibly hard for him to be sitting in our empty apartment, just studying, while Nugget and I struggle through who-knows-what to get her healthy enough to join him.  But I'm sure she'll miss him just as much, and start eating like a champ as soon as we give her a bottle.  I mean, she is my daughter, after all, and if there's one thing I'm good at it's eating!!

smile!!

Oh, my little Baby Nugget. It's hard to be mad at you for kicking me in the ribs all day every day when I see this sneaky smirk on your sweet face!

let's have a baby.

I am just about done being pregnant! For real. There's less than a month left.

I'm so excited to see this little nugget and snuggle her little body and kiss her chunky cheeks!! But I'm also nervous as heck for her to come out and need to survive on her own. She's going to need a lot of help from medications and surgery and then it will be a long, hard battle to get her strong and healthy enough to come home. If I think about it for too long it's frightening. If I don't think about it at all I feel like I'm already neglecting her. This parenting thing is turning out to be pretty stinkin' difficult.

We still don't have her official full name picked out.  John won't let me have my way with her middle name.  Isn't he rude?  And, to make it even harder, he won't even give me any new ideas.  I think he secretly loves the name, but thinks it's too late to change his mind and save face.  Silly boy.

What we DO have picked out is her birthday.  I'm already scheduled at the hospital and everything.  We're pretty excited to have the day on our calendar as a "for sure" thing, instead of just the vague idea that a due-date gives you.  [And it being 9 days earlier isn't so bad for me, either!]  I guess she could still surprise us all and come even earlier... I hope she doesn't... preemie on top of everything else is just too many things to have to worry about.

My past couple monitoring appointments have been soooo nice.  I switched to my other doctor's office for everything, since we're getting so close to the end.  [Not that I don't trust my doctors to communicate well, they are married to each other, after all.]  But it just felt like a good idea to have the doctor delivering the baby to be the one who does my last couple exams and checks Baby Nugget's monitoring strips.  Anyway, this office has PRIVATE MONITORING ROOMS.  With my own personal stack of magazines and a TV, in case my cell phone can't keep me entertained for 45 minutes.  It's great.  And they can keep the volume up on the machine so I can hear the baby's heartbeat [and kicks] without any interference from other moms and babies.  Nugget still likes to give the nurses a hard time.  The other day she kept kicking the monitor so hard for about fifteen seconds that when I looked at the strip there was a completely blank gap where her heart rate should be. 

That's not disconcerting, is it?  I guess it would be if it wasn't caused by her kicking so hard, and the fact that I feel her rolling around and partying all hours of the day.

Anyway, we're coming down to the wire.  And I still haven't even started the diaper bag I want to make.  Or either of her quilts.  I better get my butt in gear!!

the nevada welfare office.

No one really needs to read this.  It's mostly for posterity's sake.

Baby Nugget is on Medicaid.  Honestly, it's our only option.  Unless you would like to foot the bill...  But I'll warn you - she already has four different doctors, diagnostic testing, a looming major surgery, a 4-6 week [minimum] recovery stay in the NICU/PICU ahead of her, and countless follow-up appointments and procedures.  So, as you might think, there is no way in heck we would even know how to say a number with that many zeroes at the end of it, let alone afford the deductible and 20-30% of her medical bills.  Instead, we are going to shamelessly ride the ObamaCare train as long and as far as we can.  [We're both still on our parent's plans through this year, and then we'll be no-income students again,]

That was more information than anyone needed.  I apologize.

What I really want to tell you about is my visit to the welfare office today.  It was my third visit.  Fourth if you count last week when I left after three minutes because the line stretched all the way outside.  The first time I went with my mom and just ended up dropping off my practically blank application.  The second visit was to turn in all the documents to fill in the pages and pages I left blank.  Today I was there showing them John's birth certificate to complete the process.  Did you know that a Social Security card doesn't count as proof of citizenship??  It doesn't.  You need a passport, birth certificate, or green card [I think, I never really figured out what the third option was.]  And we apparently lost both John's passport card and birth certificate during the move.  Whoopsie!

Anyway, while I was standing in line this morning I made a "friend".  At first, I was unaware of the new relationship.  She asked me how far along I am, and I told her.  Then she scooted her dog-carrier very close to my feet and stood very close behind me.  That's fine.  Some people have different sized personal-bubbles.  Mine happens to be on the larger side, but for an hour or so, I can deal with whatever if it means my baby's application gets completed.  And then it happened.  About a half hour into the line, my dear friend starts up the conversation again.  Boy or girl?  First baby?  How old are you?  Are you ready?  

Now, "ready" is a very different concept for John and I.  We are essentially prepared: we have a crib, car seat, tower of diapers, and a whole lot of love.  We're just waiting for this little girl to come and take over our lives.  What we don't have is any real idea of when she'll be home, what hurdles we'll have to jump over with her, or how complicated her medical care is really going to be.  So instead, we're getting ready for a whole lot of unknowns, and a whole lot of all-nighters at the hospital.  And because my new friend shared all of her own pregnancy-related complications and issues with me, I decided to fill her in on my own.  I told her my baby girl has a heart condition, and so we're getting ready for a lot of time in the hospital, and not so much the "bringing home baby" aspect of parenthood.  [That will come later, and we'll get ready for that once it's time.]  

Well, I should have known from my new friend's close proximity while standing in line that she does not possess any size bubble.  She rubbed my belly.  I don't mean she reached out her hand to pat the bump.  I mean she RUBBED MY BELLY.  For an extended period of time.  It was awkward.  It was uncomfortable.  Even Baby Nugget could tell.  As soon as that hand was back where it belonged [nowhere near my body] the nugget straight-up rolled over and I'm pretty sure she shuddered.  Like she was telling me, "Mom, that was not OK.  Let's not ever do that again."  At least I know my girl will be as awkward as I am...

But honestly, it was a good thirty seconds.  Even people I know haven't had their hand on my belly for that long.  I've maybe had two or three people I know touch my belly, but only for milli-seconds at a time, immediately apologizing because they're sure I can't stand people touching my belly all the time.  And we're talking good friends and neighbors here - people I've known since I was six.  I honestly thought I could get through my entire pregnancy without any of that unwanted belly-rub action.  I must have jinxed myself.

But back to my new friend, who was completely unphased by the obvious shock on my face.  She continued to tell me about her own life and medical issues.  Then there was an awkward silence.  I really didn't want to keep talking.  I wanted to leave.  But there was only about ten people ahead of me by then, and I really needed to prove to the welfare system that my husband is an American citizen.  So I asked about her dog.

I really hope I never have to go to the welfare office again.  I just can't handle making new best-friends-forever so fast.