Something flies, and it's not pigs.

Its time.  See what I did there?  Pretty great.

You know what's happened to me?  Yesterday, just yesterday, I had me a baby.  And I turn around for one minute to go to the bathroom or wash a pot or something, and he's sitting up and crawling and growin' teefers.  How is this okay?  I distinctly remember telling him not to get bigger.  Then again, I also told him if he wanted to sleep through the night and change his own diapers, that would be dandy by me.  Maybe there's a trade off there?  Not sure.  But regardless, I now am mother to a seven and a half month old.

A very chunky seven and a half month old.

Here he is in all his chunky mobile glory.  Cruisin' along, throwing diapers all over the floor, and learning to open the drawers on our new entertainment center (one which we specifically purchased because we believed it would be slightly less accessible). He is now learning to stand holding on to things, and he gets a tad overzealous once he's accomplished the feat.  This usually ends with him fussing at least a tad, and standing there awkwardly with every muscle tensed until Chad or I come and rescue him.  Quite entertaining, as I'm sure you can imagine. 

Relatively but not really so new fun fact-  Caleb can now hold a binky in his mouth all by his lonesome!  Up until about five and a half to six months, he was either incapable or too lazy to do so, and would insist on anyone in the near vicinity holding it in for him.  Little stinker.


Well that's enough random update.  Hopefully I'll quit being such a slacker and maybe post once in a million years.  We shall see.

A Post in Which I Get Very Serious.

Caleb is about 10 weeks old now.  Time flies!  He's so smart.  He's gotten so good at holding his head up and cooing and smiling at me.  He gives me butterflies every single time he gives off that big cheesy grin.  His movements are still jerky, and he's still managing to give himself a good whack in the face, but he is learning, ever so carefully, to move more precisely and to shape his lips to make different sounds.  He's learning, with a little help from the people who love him.

I was thinking the other day about when I had my temporary permit.  I remember walking out of the DMV with my newly laminated beauty and thinking I held the key to freedom!  Then, I distinctly remember asking my parents, "which ones the gas?"

You can imagine their concern.

But somehow they mustered up the courage to just let me take that first test drive.  But suddenly I was terrified.  I'd never driven a vehicle before! I could kill somebody!  But with their encouragement, I made it home in one piece.  I remember slowly learning the ropes.  Having near run-ins with mailboxes.  The jerky corrections when I was too far left or too far right.  The issue I had with speed and forgetting how fast I was going until I hit 70 on a 55.  Then one day, I felt it was almost second nature.

But I still had faults.  I wasn't a perfect driver.

When I was 19 and a legal driver, I was leaving a parking lot after dark, speeding towards the exit.  Out of nowhere, a dip in the road appeared, and I slammed on my brakes.  The wet pavement gave no purchase, and I turned the wheel just in time to not hit a cement road block head on.  I was flustered.  Terrified.  I never thought I'd be that person who wrecked a car!  This couldn't be happening to me!  I was invincible!  Then it occurred to me...

This wasn't even my car.

It was my step mothers.  My father had married her only months earlier, and she was one of the sweetest, kindest women I'd ever met. How could I tell her what I'd done to her car?

I began frantically crying.  I jumped in the car and drove home, wobbly wheel and all.  I began wondering if I could survive the coming night.  I arrived home and ran in the house where my dad sat and yelled, "I wrecked the car!" with tears streaming down my face.

He stood up, took the keys, and stepped outside to take it for a drive.  When he returned home, he told me it was totaled.  I cried more.  After he told Susan (my step mother), he told me I'd have to talk to her.  I couldn't bear to do that!  I was so ashamed!  I wanted to go bury myself in my blankets and never come out again.  I wanted it to be like it never happened, but the damage was done.  When I finally confronted her, I was sobbing.  Begging for her forgiveness.  I was amazed at what happened.

She looked at me with a smile on her face and said, "it's okay, Alex.  I was a teenager once, too."

I couldn't believe it.  She then began to tell me all the unfortunate car mishaps she'd had in her life, none of which came even close to what I'd just done.  And yet, she remained calm. Happy even.  So forgiving.  I've never forgotten that.


I've been thinking a lot about this with regard to the Plan of Salvation.  I can see it now.

We are so blessed to receive bodies.  We come to the Earth.  We grow.  We mature.  We learn to walk and talk, we go to school.

But we all have our weaknesses.

I imagine Heavenly Father was reluctant to let us go, just as my parents were reluctant to let me drive in my completely inexperienced state.  Much like I had to learn the basics of driving, we've had to come and learn to have and control a body with carnal impulses.  The natural man.  Some of us (all of us, at times), when we've tasted freedom, will let those impulses overpower us and take us down a road with nothing but wet pavement and a concrete roadblock at the end.

In that moment, we will see the error of our ways.  We will know we are not invincible, and we will have a choice.

Do we hide in our blankets and try and pretend it never happened...

Or do we make it right?

  I know that we are all children of the Almighty God.  He loves us so much, and is trusting us to use the bodies he lovingly gave to us with respect and care.  We cannot disrespect them and feel peace.  But He, knowing that we would make mistakes, has given us His son, and through Christ, who loves us so much, we can become clean again.  We can receive forgiveness if we are humble enough to ask for it.  I know this to be true.  And I bear witness of it in the name of our Savior, Jesus Christ, Amen.

'Birth Story' of sorts.

My baby boy is here!

Sometimes it's still so strange for me to think that this little man was the one kicking me in the ribs all those months. He is literally the most beautiful baby I've ever seen. He smiles in his sleep and pees all over the place during diaper changes, including on Chad while he's across the room at the doctors office. He sleeps better with tons of noise which makes it difficult to get him back to sleep at four in the morning. But I'm in love. I wouldn't change anything at all, and I'm enjoying every second of getting to know his sweet young spirit.

I won't be sharing Caleb's actual birth story. Something about it seems extremely personal to me. But just know it didn't go like I'd planned. I am not one for pain. Ask anyone. But three failed epidurals and quite a bit of pitocin later I believe I found something in myself I didn't know was there. I know that I wasn't doing it alone. I had family support and I had help from my Heavenly Father to make it through no doubt the most painful experience I'd ever endured, and in the end, I wouldn't change a thing. I love every bit of how my baby came into the world and I love everything it taught me about myself. End birth story rant.

What I am sharing is how the whole process started. Wednesday the 20th of February, I woke up with a small wet spot in my underwear. By the way, of me talking about wet spots in underwear is tmi, stop reading now. There's a lot more where that came from.
I didn't pay a lot of attention to it because my doctor specifically told me that water breaking would be either a big gush or a trickle down my leg. This didn't trickle, therefor no big deal. But it kept happening. Chad and I were actually organizing Caleb's things when I explained what was happening. He said it wouldn't be a bad idea to call the nurses hotline just to be safe.
I called, and they told me to go straight to labor and delivery. I wasn't expecting that at all. What a surreal feeling that was. Both chad and I left the house with jitters!
We arrived at labor and delivery and did our paperwork and eventually got into a triage room. They had me change and hooked me up to monitors and checked the fluid to see if it was amniotic. I had some anxiety during the test. Something in me told me it'd be negative. But something felt wrong about that. But I shrugged that off as just wishing it were positive.
Turns out, it was negative. They brought in an ultrasound to check Caleb's fluid, and he was at a safe level 12. This test gave me some relief from that earlier mentioned anxiety, and later I found out chad had the same anxious feeling that also went away with the ultrasound. We were sent home. I was feeling so embarrassed. They had kept repeating the old "he's probably just really close to your bladder, it's totally normal to have leaks like that" over and over. It drove me crazy. I'm not peeing every time I move. I empty my bladder and it happens right after. Sheesh. Needless to say I was a little frustrated, but mostly humiliated because for all I knew, they were right.
The leaking continued throughout the day, and I tried not to pay attention to it. We went to sleep and just before I woke up, I had a dream somebody was talking to me, very concerned. They grabbed my shoulders and said, "your water broke!"
I woke up immediately after to feel my underwear more wet than ever. I frantically felt the sheets underneath me only to find them dry. I found myself embarrassed again. Great. Now I'd really peed myself.
But I went to the bathroom and emptied a full bladder only for the leaking to continue immediately after. I was beginning to feel a little crazy. All of it came out clear. Not even close to yellow. I didn't understand. Chads mom suggested putting on a pad and lying down, because amniotic fluid will pool when you lay down and come out when you sit up again. So I laid there twenty minutes and sure enough, when I sat up, a little mini gush happened. Frustration ensued.
I went downstairs to make sure it wasn't yellow and to my surprise I actually found pink! That was it. I actually called the office instead of the nurses hotline and again I was told to go in to labor and delivery immediately. Chad had just left for work, so his mom and I went together. Again I was checked into the triage. They did the same test to sample the fluid that was leaking and we waited.
Negative again.
At this point I was at a loss. I was that crazy lady. The one that cried wolf all the time. She was I and I felt so silly. They brought in the ultrasound again and at this point I was almost annoyed. Just send me home! Why torture me anymore! They continued to do the same things they had done the day before, when the nurse turned to me and said, "your levels are dropping. You're at a 7 today, so you are losing fluid. We're going to keep you and induce your labor." Wow. Wasn't expecting that.
I couldn't believe it. I called Chad and he was as surprised as I was. He ran home to grab a few things and rushed to the hospital just as things were starting up. About 12 hours of labor later, we welcomed a perfect 7 pound 14 ounce, 20 inch long baby boy into our family. Seeing him made everything worth it. Cliche, I know. But cliches are cliche for a reason.
It was such a relief for me to know that I understood my body. That I was right about leaking fluid. I couldn't believe it, but even that gave me a new sense of self confidence. I could trust myself to know what was happening with my body. Even if it seemed crazy. I felt somehow validated. I was no longer that silly woman that was obsessed with coming into labor and delivery because she peed herself. And that was a great feeling!

Looking back, I'm so grateful for family. I had so much support through everything. But I'm especially grateful for the man I married. I know him being by my side helped me more than he knows. He kept me going when I thought I wouldn't be able to do it. He is my biggest support and my very best friend. I love him so much and I'm so grateful everyday to Heavenly Father for letting me marry him for time and all eternity. If Caleb turns out anything like his wonderful father, I will be proud to say the least. He's already an amazing father and, just when I thought it impossible, I love him all the more everyday I see him with Caleb. But I'll stop there. Don't want to get TOO sappy. ;)

Caleb Chad Eddington
Born 2/22/2013 at 12:59 am
7 pounds 14 ounces and 20 inches long

Turkey Day Awesomeness.

Chad and I had our own Thanksgiving celebration this year.  It was SO fun!  We made all the classics and ate ourselves silly and listened to our Michael Buble Christmas CD.  Then we went and played on the swings at a local park.  I love our little family so much and I'm so grateful to be married to my best friend!

One shot of our Thanksgiving Feast!

And another...

Chad's feetsies! 

Oh my gosh, I ate so much, you can see my BELLY sticking out!

Serious Chad.

Hello and Happy Thanksgiving!

Mystery Baby.

First off, I apologize.  I haven't been good at all at updating this here bliggity blog.   My bad, my bad.  But I'll have you know life has been just peachy!  Chad and I are pregnant!  We're 20 weeks on Tuesday, and we get to find out if we've got a lad or lassie on our hands on that very day.  I can't tell you how anxious I am.  Because I'm so anxious... It should be illegal.

Do YOU know what we're having?  Do you have a nagging feeling in your noggin?  Well then let's hear it!  Here's some information to aid you in your guess quest...

1. I'm carrying lower in my belly, and from the back or even straight on, I don't really look pregnant.
2. My skin, overall, has been clearer since I got pregnant.
3. I have a net weight gain of 0 pounds.  Not sure how that's happened.
4. I had morning sickness, but it more of an annoying 'hi, you're not really going to throw up, I'm just here to bug you" sickness.  Didn't last all day, and stopped at almost exactly 12 weeks.
5. I crave salty foods mostly.  Like curly fries.  My, oh, my.  
6.  The baby is a tad bit 'ahead' in development.  You be the judge to whether that's relevant or not.  As if any of this is relevant.  Haha.

Le baby.

There you have it.   Take a guess!

We are so excited and so happy about this pregnancy!  We feel so blessed to be welcoming a baby into our family and can't wait to find out if it's a little boy or girl.  Either way, it's safe to say, we'll be obsessed.

Stole this idea from my cousin, Sarah.  You should read her blog.  It's funny.  www.ramblingsofaredhead.com :)

Jitters.

Okay, so here I am, four hours before my first day of school starts, and I'm actually kind of nervous.  I might sound like a huge lazy bum in this post, but bear with me, and I shall reveal all.

I woke up this morning feeling pretty sick to my stomach (maybe it's because I woke up at 3:30 in the morning with Chad.  Go figure)  but I think I have a hunch as to why.

Since we've gotten married, we've both had a decent amount of free time.  We sit in our living room while Chad does his homework and joke around all day.  Chad watches my annoying TV shows with me and pretends I'm not driving him crazy, and even gives his opinion on some dresses (say yes to the dress, of course).  He's pretty good at making me feel not nutso.

Well, this morning, I opened up my eyes and realized, even though this is an exciting new part of both of our lives,  things are changing.  I'll be gone eight hours everyday, and not to mention one of those days is Saturday. The day we usually look forward to just because we have no obligations.  We like that.  We are lazy (mostly me, Chad is the one that works at 4 in the morning).  But it actually hit me like a ton of bricks.

Things might never be the same.

Mostly in good ways, of course. 

I'll have a lucrative education that I love.  That's good!

But I also thought of more permanent changes.  Like when school is all said and done, it might not be just us anymore.  Hopefully by then, we might be so lucky as to have a new pair of little feets to wobble around our apartment.  

I've been so anxious to get pregnant for a while now and it never really intimidated me until today (no, I'm not pregnant... yet!).  Just the thought that I could start a year long program and end it with a baby Chad or Alex made everything seem so final.  Like this is most definitely the last day that things will be the same.

But I'm okay with it.  We may not get all of the free time we are used to, but I'm excited to learn to cherish the time we do have together.  I'm excited to learn and to be productive everyday.  To have responsibility.

I guess you could say it's practice of sorts...  For when those little feets decide to join in on the fun.

So I guess I'm not nervous about school.  I'm nervous that a lot can happen in a year.  And I guess I hadn't thought much about that before.  I just hope I am the kind of person who can handle it.

I hope I can start school and end it a better person than I am today.  I hope I can be ready for anything.  I hope I can be a better wife and support my husband more. 

 I hope I'll be good at what I do. 

I hope that, when the time comes,  I can be a good mother.  I hope, when that time comes, that I can look into the eyes of our children and forever remember how desperately I hoped for them, and I hope I never forget that.  I hope I never take my family for granted.  

But no matter what happens, I hope I never take my husband for granted.  My amazing husband who goes to work in the middle of the night for his family.  Chad, who is so patient with me learning things that I should already know.  Who married me even though I'm nowhere near as wonderful as him.  He is truly the most amazing person I've ever met, and can you believe it, he's my husband!  

My husband who told me that if it's my dream, I should go to school.  Even though it's a financial hurdle.  So here I am, following my dream.  Thanks to my husband, who is always looking to make my life better.  To make me better.  And I thank him for that.

My apologies for the rant.  Totally random I know, but believe it or not, that's actually how my brain works.

Okay.  Here I come, school.  Ready or not.

But excited either way.

The Suspense is Killing Me.

Chad is a fantastic husband.  He really is. Best husband award for sure.

He is a hard worker in school. He's currently pulling through straight A's in all of his classes and he just got a job. Not just any job. Early morning janitor job.  He is awesome.  He works.  He cleans.  He learns.  He never complains. Ever.  His parents raised him right!

Well, Chad is majoring in Computer Information Technology.  Needless to say, he uses his computer a lot.  Well, his last computer lasted maybe a year and a half, and we got him a new one, which he has been using more as he is getting into his core classes.  I don't know about you, but buying a new computer every year doesn't sound like fun to me.

Chad mention a Macbook.  He's wanted one for a while, but he's really good at never putting himself first.  He's great like that.  But we really started thinking about it... Macs last eternity.  Spend lots of moneys once = computer for entire college career.  Spend a medium amount of money each year = grumpy/poor Alex.  But recently he's really been doing his research.  The pressure was on.  He'd been budgeting and pulling strings and shopping around for the best deals.

So I said 'not yet.'

Bummed out Chad.

Hehehehe. I was only kidding. But he didn't know now, did he?

Last night I began to plot.  Never before had I been so sneaky.  Even out Christmas presents weren't sneaky.  We went into the store, separated, and pretended not to have any idea what we got. No sneaky!

I had a plan. Every Wednesday Chad goes to school before I work. But I go to campus with him and walk to work, since it's a little later than his class.  I get out of work an hour before he's done for the day. Perfect! Muahahaha.  I would buy the mac before work.  Go to work.  Walk home after work.  Surprise would ensue.  But Chad managed to foil my plan. Drat!  He dropped me off at the building instead of on campus.  There was no way I'd be able to walk to the store and walk back in time for work, and there was no way I'd be able to walk to the store, buy it, and make it home on foot in time. So I had to figure out another means of sneakiness...

I texted Hannah, and she saved my life.  She got out at the perfect time and was able to give me a ride home.  So after work, I all but sprinted to the book store to make it there with enough time to get back and set up my surprise.  Really. I ran. Not kidding.  Then I got home.  I wrapped it up and put it on our bed and waited...

Chad walked in, completely unaware of how sneaky I had been.  I walked in to the bedroom and asked him to come, too.  His face was totally perfect.  "Uh, no, you didn't."

Ohohohoohhhhhh yes I did.

He started beaming ear to ear and I tell you I don't think he's ever been more excited...

I like making my husband happy:)

And just so you're all aware, he seems to have calmed down a little, but every now and then he will still grab his head and say "I can't believe it! You're so awesome! I can't believe you did this!"

Yes. Yes, I am awesome.

Elephants are Key...

Chad and I are pretty obsessed with this game.  We like to call it "Age of Mythology", because that's what's written on the case.  We play like it's our job, and we fail miserably.  Let me elaborate on this extremely interesting subject.

Play the game on easy- Other team self destructs.  Too easy.

Play the game on moderate- Scary computer starts making threats three seconds into the game and before you know it, your whole entire civilization is dead to the world.  They don't just get your town centers.  They get your houses and farms and your camels!  I hate when they kill my camels!  They take it too far.

So as you can see, in between easy and moderate, apparently somebody had no idea what moderate meant, and decided it must mean impossible.  I mean, come on. They killed all twenty three of my camels in one little fleet. How does that happen?? Run, you stupid camels! Run!  Anyway, I digress.

My point is, moderate has taken on a new meaning.  So I obviously need to step it up, right?

Step one - team up with extremely attractive husband.

Step two- create a million and one elephants.

Step three- win.

Well, it doesn't happen like that.  So as you can imagine, Chad and I stay up until wayyyy past our bedtime just to die six times.  But we can't keep dying!  We must win!  So we play one more game.  Strangely, he is not threatening us... We slowly advance our armies and cautiously head over to his nation.  Then we beat the livin' tar-nation our of his civilization.  'Wow, that was easy! We must be super awesome!' we both think to ourselves.  Only to find out that before the game started, we forgot to set it to moderate.

Stupid camels. 

Long time, no post.

Pardon my absence, if you will, I have been very busy. Doing what you ask? Important things involving saving the world by saving the fair maiden, Zelda. She was and is in need of a great deal of assistance, but I have had to take a break due to the fact that my sword arm is very near falling off because of my wild spin attacks and bug catching. (Sorry, Zelda. If you're reading this, I'm on my way, right after this next episode of the Office.)

At the end of December, Chad and I moved to Idaho Falls! We have loved it! We moved into a smaller place with one bedroom and a huge potty room. We have quite enjoyed our new apartment. I was able to get a job at JC Penney, but sadly, my hours have been reduced to about one 5 hour shift a week. So! We have made the tough choice to move back to Rexburg in mid April. We are very excited! We can't wait to move in and to be back near school. I have been blessed to get another job already, watching my friends' adorable little baby boy. I can't wait to start! 

Chad's sister Julia has moved in with us as of about a month ago! She is getting married on April 6th and we are so very excited for her! We love her betrothed and can't wait to welcome him to the family. You know what else we can't wait for? On the 28th we get to go to Utah and spend about a week and a half with the Eddingtons! They are flying in from Ohio and we are positively overcome with joy! 

I recently began a Photography business! It's going rather well, actually, I enjoy it so much! I love working with people and capturing them in photographs! It's quite a good deal of fun!

Chad has signed on with a temp agency and has been able to get a good deal of work! We are very happy about that and feel so blessed to be given the opportunity to work. 

OKAY! Now that you know how awesome we're doing, I'm gonna go rescue Zelda. Someone needs to tell her to stop... being... stolen...

Okay bye.

Julia's going to kill me.

Where have I been? Well, I'll tell you where I've been.

It's my birthday.

Not really, but join me on the imagination express as we take a ride back to December 14, 2011.  Enjoy the seats. They're plush. And leather. And they're also made out of clouds. And then they're made out of whatever you want. It's the imagination express! We spare no expense. Accept in gas. That stuff's free.

I worked 8 hours on my birthday. Not complaining, I had an awesome job. But I distinctly remember being told I was incorrect about that specific day being the anniversary of my birth. By a two-and-a-half year old. The story goes like this:

I was probably busy being mean. Something like putting Savannah in time out for stealing a toy from Braden or something of that severity. Usually she sits there... Yells a bit... Then when she calms down, I say,

"Do you know why you're in time out?"

Usually she just says, "Memmeretinnibibble." To which I reply,

"Yes."

Then she gets up and all is right with the world. Not this time though. This time, she said she was scared of me, and then stuck her nose in the corner. Usually, I don't enjoy being mean to small children. This was no exception. So I tried to be funny and ask her to come play some games.

"Savannah, come on! Let's go play games, it's my birthday!"

"No, it's not." She says, very matter-o-fact like.

You can imagine my shock.

For twenty years, I had been celebrating my birthday on December 14. Nobody had ever brought to my attention that I was indeed mistaken in doing so. Not until now. How did I tell my husband? Had he, perhaps, been correct in thinking my birthday was on the fifteenth until we were married? I couldn't face that humiliation. Not after I'd given him so much grief about not knowing my birthday. It'd just be to much.

Hours passed by, and I got in the car to go home with Chad. I told him about my day and all the funny things the children did, the whole time being trouble with this new development in the change of my birth date.  He laughed graciously. And then we get home.

I walked in the door to this:

Cake. Martinelli's. Long stemmed glasses. Love notes. Clean house.


Yeah. He doesn't have to know.

I Saw This Play One Time.

Let's get down to brass tacks here.  I do not enjoy being sick.

Nor do I enjoy my beloved spouse being plagued with a nasty bug either.

But, dislike it as I may, the universe was at odds with the Eddington family this past week.  Pestilence burned through our food and earthquakes shook our floors, too.  Okay, I'm joking about that part.  But I did find a moldy biscuit.  

It all started out so innocently.  Going to see a play together.  We made the poor choice of sitting ten seats away from the isle.  The rest, I'm sure you can figure out.  But I'm sure you clicked on this link for a good story, and a good story you will get!  

Chad noticed my apparently apparent queasiness.  "Are you okay?" He whispered to me.

I couldn't manage much legible speech at the time.  I just managed to stand up and stomp down the row of filled seats, surely filling the occupants with unspeakable anger towards the now green faced girl stepping on their toes.  Next objective: find a bathroom. And fast.  Luckily, and I mean very luckily, there was a bathroom right outside the door.  If ever there was an award for perfect timing, I should be awarded said award.  I wont go into details, but I lost my dinner. And my lunch. And my... stomach lining... And a lot of sleep.

Good story, right?

Unfortunately, my wonderful husband came down with the bug a couple days ago. Only I think bugs like him, because he was way worse.  Need I be embarrassed that I almost cried when I heard him surrendering his insides to the porcelain throne?  I think not.  A sympathetic wife am I, and I hold tight to my title.  

Chad was a bit loopy during his hours at deaths door. So much so that at one point, he began whispering to me, "Alex, do you... do you wanna... you wanna get me... a popsicle... so I can... I can l-.... I can lick it?"  Of course, being the sympathetic wife I am, I was elated to get him a popsicle.  I got down on the floor next to him and gave him his delicious strawberry delight. He licked it. Smacked his lips together a few times. Smiled. And then said "Okay, you can put it back now." and handed it back to me.  A joy he is, I say. A magnificent joy.  

Luckily we are all better and happy to be so.  We don't do well being sick.  So I daresay we shouldn't become so ever again lest we be tempted to roll over and die.  Anyway, I'm gonna go to bed now.  Healthy wishes to all!  And if you live in the Burg... Watch for the bugs...

Oh, the memories I... Remember....

I am of the opinion that every female, admitted or not, has a stash of highly embarrassing and or awkward monthly visitor stories.  You know what I'm talking about.  The 'dot' as I used to call it.  Period.  Yep.  I said it.  If this is a TMI moment for you, I want to let you know that this is the part where you exit this post.  Because I plan to elaborate on past and recent happenings revolving around that very subject.  If this impending horror terrifies you, turn back now, my friend.  I fear that if you don't turn back immediately, the fluidity of my writing skills will have you trapped before you can say "that's just weird" and you will have no choice but to continue on in forced indulgence of the hilarity and awkwardness that will ensue.... now.

First, you may wonder what on earth is bringing this to my mind.  Well, for one, one story is from today.  And for two, just because I'm a woman.  And women are random and unpredictable.

Back when I was a youngin', I distinctly remember a certain visit to the doctors office.  Not so much what it was for.  I just remember having to pee in that stupid water-colored dixie cup.  You know, the kind that seems like it's not even fit to hold four drops of liquid without sustaining considerable damage.  And they expect many a person to pee in said cup.  Well, I also remember my little monthly friend decided to accompany me to the doctors office.  So considerate, really.  I guess.

Well, I made that dixie cup work.  Put my business in the little cupboard and waited to hear the other side open.  I always pictured the nurses gathering around, laughing maniacally at the little dixie cup.  It made me self conscious.  Didn't they know that urine is no laughing matter?  Anyway, I digress.

I remember walking out of the bathroom.  I hated that part.  Let's face it.  When you walk out of a doctors office potty room,  EVERYBODY knows your business.  Then you have to take the walk of shame past every single open door back to your room which is always the last door on the left.  You can almost hear the laughter and the accusing whispers.  

Sadly enough, my walk of shame was actually cut short.  This frantic little old lady came running out of the pee-observing room with a terrified look on her face.  She deduced that I must have been the owner of the tainted subject she had obviously just observed.  Must've been the guilty look on my face.  Or the fact that I was just exiting the potty room.  She shuffled up to me and looked me in the eye.

"Are you menstruating???"  I had to think about it for a minute.

My first instinct of course, was to tell her it was none of her business.  But then I realized that I pretty much handed it over in a dixie cup.  So I guess it was.

"... Yes?"  I remember it sounding like a question.  Like I was afraid I'd be in trouble.  

(When I read this part of the story to my husband, he became defensive. 'She was probably just concerned.  If you weren't on your period, you could've been really sick.')

She sighed and turned back into the pee laboratory.  Now that I think about it, I was pretty inconsiderate.  Should've replied with a "Yes, thank you for asking!" or perhaps, "Why yes, and yourself?" 

And now the reason for the memories.  I have another story of the more embarrassing variety.  Perhaps awkward, too.  But mostly embarrassing because it was my doing.

I get sick on when my monthly friend visits.  Usually I like company.  But in this case, I rather sleep on the bathroom floor.  

Chad asked me if I'd like to go to devotional today. Sounded nice.  He'd pick me up.  Life would be good.  

I got a text message from him saying, "Do you want to meet on campus?"  and this simply wouldn't do.  I replied with a hasty, "What? Huh? Meet where? For what? I'm sick and hot and I feel gross and I'm still on my period."  Only after I sent said message, did I notice it wasn't Chad at all.

It was someone interested in buying clothes I'd put up for sale.  I quickly messaged back and attempted to explain the situation.  She was a good sport.  She hasn't expressed anymore interest in clothes though..

So, everyone. The moral of the story is, our monthly friend is the kind of unwanted company that we laugh about later.  Like the friend of a friend that your friend wants you to be best friend with.  Or like wrecking a car.  "You'll laugh about it later."

Only the car part isn't funny.

Does anybody else have these kinds of stories?  Feel free to share.  If you laugh about it, we should all laugh about it.  I like laughing.

Ha.

The car still isn't funny.

And a Little Added Sunshine For Your Day...

Enjoy.

Wednesday Is a Special Day.

You know Christmas?  Right.  I figured you did.  Well, you know how kids get all excited for Christmas?  So much so that they lose precious hours of sleep over the hullabaloo of it all?  Wee chillins tucked in their beds find themselves chasing those dancing sugar plums in the middle of July?  Utter excitement, I dare say.

Lucky (or unlucky) for Chad and me, our hullabaloo comes not once, but a grand total of fifty two (fifty three, if you count Christmas) times a year!  Our hullabaloo day?  It's Wednesday.  Do you know why?  Of course you don't know why.  That's why I'm going to tell you.  Is the suspense killing you yet?

Chad has a 'strict' bed time of eight o'clock.  Usually around seven his brain starts to get foggy and he starts saying strange things... and talking to me while he's in the bathroom.  Never a good sign.  Why the insane bed time?  Because of his job.  Chad works as a janitor for the BYU-I campus.  His shift starts at four.  In the morning.  So naturally, him being a sleep lover and all, he tries to stock up.

But Thursday is a glorious day.  It's his day off.  Therefor, on Wednesday, we do not abide by the eight o'clock bedtime rule, no matter how tired we are.  Nay, we stayed up until ten last night.  And guess what?

We didn't even feel bad about it. (snicker)

But anyway, we always try to make the best of the hullabaloo.  What did we do this past Wednesday, you ask?  Well, I'll show you!

A tent.  Yes.  Held up with educational text and the like.  We are smart people.

Chad and I built a tent, made some fudge, and watched a movie.  That was our celebration of the hullabaloo. Of course, Chad tried to fit our mattress inside the tent.  I felt like a little kid stealing my siblings chocolate moneys when I told him that it just wouldn't work...

The mattress was omitted and the tent was smashing.  Even if we crouched a little bit.

He's very focused, isn't he?  Probably doing homework until the fudge is done.

Orrrrrr NOT! (Note the sock.  Halfway off.  Not sure why he prefers that.  Why not off?  Or on?  Is he self conscious about his feet?  Or does he like the feel of it better?  Not sure.)

But honestly, adoring fans, I feel like a kid on December 26th.  You know what that feeling is?

What the heck do I do now?

And that's when I decided the best course of action would be to post on the blog.  Instead of do dishes immediately.  Let's face it, when you open up presents on Christmas, the last think you want to do is take down the tree.  Well that's just it.  I'm going to leave our tree up for another hour or so.  And then wash the tree... Dishes.  And then probably...

Wallow in self pity.

I. Just. Don't. Know.

Happy belated Wednesday, fervent followers!

It was the onions.

I had no idea that onions had such a horrible effect on me.  Not eating them, of course.  Cutting them.  Even before I cut the onions I was feeling teary eyed.  Seriously.  Days before.

Okay, maybe it's not the onions.  But whatever it is, it's got me spouting all sorts of... "emotions"... everywhere.  Crying seems to be the go-to.  But why?  I. Don't. Know.

A few days ago I cried because I cut my finger.  Because it hurt?  No.  I couldn't feel a thing.  More or less because I suppose I felt rather sheepish.  Chad never cuts his finger.  So I laid in bed and made a fool out of my sheepish self.  Cry, cry, cry.  I sucked it up eventually.  But Chad still won't let me around any sharp objects...

Then came Sunday.  Things were going pretty well, I suppose.  Then I got ready for church.  The dress I had but on was ever so slightly too short.  Oh, it's fine! I said. It's just getting caught! My faulty attempts to pull it down ended with me in our room, looking through my closet, still holding tight to my cool.

I put tights on: Run.

It's fine. I didn't really want to wear them anyway. And I put them away. I opted for a completely different outfit.  Complete with a white shirt. Problem is, I don't own any white tank tops.  Needless to say, I looked a tad silly with a black one, and it proved to be too much when even Chad noticed.

"I can see through your shirt a little bit."

I threw myself on the bed, and do you know what I did?  Cried.  Go without me!  I pleaded, as if my will to live had all but been swiped out from under me.

I know what you're wondering. Did Alex find an outfit?!  Well, yes.  I did.

Moral of the story?  I'm not really sure.  Perhaps it has to do with us all needed a good cry every 24 hours.  Perhaps there isn't one.  Either way, my husband rules.  Know why?  He didn't laugh at all until I was DONE crying.  At that point, I'd realize how ridiculous I was being and laugh along.

Anyway, thought I'd share that little nugget with you.  Until further notice, I'd stay away from onions.  Don't even think about them..

Onions.

I Was Sleeping, And Then I Woke Up...

There you have it. My day so far.  I know you've all been dying of curiosity.  I can hear it now.  Your brains humming to the tune of "what is Alex doing RIGHT THIS SECOND." Just kidding.  But if that just so happens to be what's going on inside your brain, that's it. I woke up.  I sat on the couch.  I ate some saltine toffee.  And I opened my computer.  The end.  The mystery is a mystery no more.

Chad and I had a pretty great weekend.  Excuse me while I try to remember it.

Ah, yes. Saturday, we ran errands, pretty much.  Grocery shopping. Yadda yadda. BUT, we also had a pillow fight.  I won.  We had been using the little square pillows on the couch, and Chad thought it would be a good idea to throw me on the bed and walk away, as if that would silence my reign of terror.  Absolutely not.  Was he unaware that there was bigger and badder ammo on our bed?  Silly Chad.  He wont made THAT mistake again... soon.  But yes, I won.  Big time.

Then I got a big boo boo on my finger later that night, and we didn't have and band-aids!  Chad, without question or needing to be asked, grabbed his keys and got in the car and went and bought a first aid kit, complete with Kit-Kats.  Could he be any cooler?!  I don't think so.  I daresay I like my husband.

Then Sunday came around.  Church was awesome.  We love our new ward.  Chad is making friends faster than me though.  You know how I know? Because.  Yesterday, we went to drive Julia home, (that part comes later) and he waved at a guy.  But he didn't just wave.  He did the "nod".  And you know what?  The guy waved back.  Also complete with the "nod".  Seriously, best friends if I ever saw it.  How can  this come from the guy that said four words to me the first time we went out?!  It's not not okay.  I think maybe I'll stop talking.  Maybe you catch more flies that way, if you catch my drift.  Only I don't like flies...

Anyway, we came home and started cooking a delicious spaghetti dinner!  We invited Chad's sister Julia over for the evening, and it was pretty much going to be awesome.  We also enjoyed my bread sticks, which were delicious on top and so so on the bottom.  I pretended to like them though.  Just so everybody else would pretend they liked them.

We got to Skype the Eddington fam fam!  We all seemed to enjoy eachother's e-company.  Especially papa Eddington, when the stories involved his son... and gas.

Then Chad and I started yawning.  Julia was laughing at us.

And so we talked and talked and then we all got in the car to take Julia home.  The "nod" occurred.  We dropped Julia off and went home and Chad ate cocoa puffs.  He's coo coo, you know.

That was our weekend.  Riveting, I know.  If you want a piece of the action, come move in for the small price of only seven hundred dollars a month! I know it's more than we pay per month, but you get furniture.  And food.  And a room to yourself. I don't even get that!  Plus, we'll even give you the nice comfy floor to sleep on.  Best deal in town.  This is the only place you get to live with awesome itself.

Anyway.  I'm going to go eat some more saltine toffee.

Okay, bye.

Ahh, Wedded Bliss!

What more can I say?  The dishwasher exploded, I nearly caught the apartment on fire, and I should be doing dishes.  Welcome to the Eddington family!  No, really though.  It's rather fantastic.  Our family, I mean.  We're thinking of making shirts.  So you, the person I just welcomed to our family... I'm going to need your shirt size... And some new dish detergent...

Twelve days into marriage and it's only getting better!  My stupidity average is blasting through the roof, as you probably gathered from the previous paragraph.  It's not my fault they make the knobs on stove tops and their corresponding burner different depending on the brand.  How was I supposed to know I couldn't turn on a burner with my eyes closed?  Needless to say, it wasn't my fault when a whole bottle of vegetable oil made its way into every nook and cranny of our stove top.  Not my fault, I say.  Chad was wise enough to keep me at bay once the oopsie was discovered.  Then he promptly made a new rule: NO PUTTING THINGS ON THE BURNERS.  If you haven't made this rule, you should.  Unless its a pan of course.  Maybe the rule should read, "Don't put full containers of vegetable oil on the burners, whether or not you intend to turn that burner on, because odds are it will get turned on."  That makes much more sense. But super Chad came to the rescue and salvaged ALL of the oil. Not some. ALL.  You may wallow in jealousy if it floats your boat.  

The oil is now safely stowed away in a pretty little tupperware in our pantry.  Safe and sound.  No where near the burners.... Or me.

Well, world, that's our first post.  I will continue this epic tale whenever inspiration strikes...

Or whenever my husband goes to the library again...