I think I was tagged...

So, I believe my friend Aubrey tagged me, but with a name as generic as mine, it is hard to know if she was meaning me or one of the hundreds of other people with my name. No, really, there is a website (www.howmanyofme.com) that will tell you how many people have your name... ~670,000 people in the US with the first name "Amy". And 304 people with the name "Amy Larson". So awesome being just one of the hundreds...

Anyway, since I have been tagged, I have to tell 6 unique things about myself. 6 unique things that I am not embarrassed to admit...

How about I tell 6 unique things about Corbyn instead... that is much more interesting and funny:

#1: Corbyn is a sleep talker. And in his dreams, he is always either hanging out with 80's rock stars (Sammy Hagar, Ozzy, etc.) or battling a creature from Doom or Halo. Until about a month ago, when, in the middle of the night, he yelled, "CANDY CORN!!!" in his sleep. I don't think that dream had anything to do with rock stars or video games. And then I asked him, "Did you just yell Candy Corn?" And he says, "Yes" all irritated at me, like it is totally normal for people to yell Candy Corn in their sleep.

#2: Corbyn spends a lot of time in the bathroom. OK, not super unique - this is something that most men do, but Corbyn will disappear into the bathroom for an hour with a magazine. No exaggeration. Like I said - I know it isn't unique, but I am just posting this because someone just called for him, he is in the bathroom, and I have to tell the caller that he is "occupied" at the moment and he will have to call them back. When will he be available? A very good question... I also would like to know. Anyone figure out a method to predict when men will conclude the business they have to conduct in their "office"?

#3: Corbyn had a mullet in high school. OK, he didn't really - he just had some long, flowing hair, but he gets really irritated when people say it was a mullet and you all know how much I love to be irritating... I am going to try to get a picture of this for you all to see- it is pretty funny. With long, flowing hair like that, no wonder he dreams about hanging out with 80's rock stars...

#4: Corbyn is always right. I know - you don't think it is possible for someone to be right ALL the time - that is what I used to think, too. But, that is why I am including it on his list of unique things. Really, he is ALWAYS right. It has only taken me a little over 8 years of knowing him and 2 years of marriage to finally figure that out. :)

#5: Corbyn is super cheap. Well, kind of. He buys skim milk because it is $.25 cheaper, but will drop a couple hundred dollars on a MX Tuner for his motorcycle without thinking twice. Or telling his wife. (Yeah, don't ask me what an MX Tuner is. All I know is that it has something to do with the fuel injection on his motorcycle and we are now the proud owners of one.)

#6: Corbyn is an AWESOME snowmobile rider. And it is really hot. The first time I ever saw Corbyn snowboard, I thought, "Wow - that is Corbyn at his hottest." Then I saw him do math and I thought, "No, that is Corbyn at his hottest." (Yeah, it is a weird thing... I suck at math, so I find it incredibly attractive when someone else is good at it.) Then I saw him lifting weights and I thought, "OK, THAT is Corbyn at his hottest." (*Note: this is mostly looking everywhere other than Corbyn's face. Corbyn's weight lifting face looks something like what I imagine my giving birth face looked like.) Then, I saw Corbyn in a suit and I thought, "No, really. THAT is Corbyn at his hottest." And then I saw him ride motorcycles and I thought, "Ultimate hotness - right there." And then, I saw him ride a snowmobile. I don't know what it is, but wow - sooooo hot. (OK, and now that I have seen him with Rhian, he surpassed even snowmobile riding, but men with babies are always hot.) Anyway - Corbyn is such a good snowmobile rider that his family won an award for "Snowmobiling Family of the Year" in 2007 for the state of Idaho. He even got a jacket with his name embroidered on it. (Spelled incorrectly, of course.) Be sure to congratulate him on it next time you see him - he will be nice and embarrassed.

There you go. 6 unique things about Corbyn. Now, I get to tag some other people. So, I tag: Devri, April, Karen, Hannah, Tamara, Kristen.

Babies float - who knew?

My family's Christmas party was this past weekend and Corbyn and I decided that 3 weeks is the perfect time to introduce Rhian to swimming. Sh

e seemed to LOVE it. She got all stiff when we first put her in the water, but quickly relaxed and just hung out. And really seemed to love it... she was so relaxed that she was actually doing the back float. (We supported her head - she has such 

a big brain, it always seemed to want to sink, but the rest of her just totally floated.) Here are some pics.

When we first put her in the water, her arms and legs flailed a bit and she sure got all stiff. (Notice the claws...)

You can't really see very well in the picture, but Corbyn is only holding her head... the rest of her is all floating. 

The water was a little cold for her in the pool, if you can't tell. She pulled some pretty funny faces.

She relaxed a lot easier in the hot tub.

Corbyn dunked her a couple times... Rhian is either going to love water or be terrified of it. But she actually didn't seem to mind it at all. OK, so the picture above is a little freaky. If you click on it, you can see an eye under the water.

Trying to go into labor

So, I tried just about everything to go into labor... spicy foods, going for a walk, shampooing carpets, painting, OTHER THINGS - nothing worked. However, it did make for a productive couple weeks. My last attempt to go into labor was to put wood flooring in our kitchen and bathroom. Here are some pics. All the squatting required was certainly not comfortable with a past-due belly - you would think that would initiate labor, but it didn't. Well, at least we got the floor done - I went into labor two days later. Poor Corbyn had to finish up all the final boring stuff (putting in baseboards, caulking, etc.)by himself while I wandered around our house counting the minutes between contractions and praying they would hurry and get to 2-3 minutes so I could go to the hospital and get my dang epidural.

Oh, and the picture of Corbyn with the mask on his face over the toilet: We had to pull up the toilet so we could install the wood floor under it. Corbyn is such a baby about that stuff (yeah, he hasn't changed a diaper yet). He was positive that is was going to stink, so he required a mask and a bunch of towels and blankets that could be thrown away if any toilet water touched them. He was so paranoid about the toilet water... wouldn't touch anything that might be contaminated by it... and then when he sat the toilet down in the garage, a little water spilled out of the toilet onto his shoe. He was SO mad. It was hilarious.

Oh, yeah. I cut off my hair.

It was actually pretty cool. I donated it to Locks of Love and I have so much freaking hair that it was 3 separate donations. So, I guess there is SOME good from having hair that is, "like, not normal for humans." (A direct quote from my cousin Melanie's husband, Nate. Thanks, Nate.)

Me with my new short(er) hair. And Rhian in the only dress that fits her. (Yes, it is pink. Sorry, Chuck.)

Our little boy Ryan

So, we only had two little outfits that fit Rhian, and with her power pooping problem, that wasn't near enough. So, I asked Corbyn to pick up some onsies at Walmart while he was getting some milk. He saw the blue section, saw the pink section and felt "uncomfortable" going to the pink section so he picked up some nice blue onsies with basketballs, footballs, baseballs, and sayings like, "Let's play ball!" all over them. Apparently, Corbyn doesn't know that clothes are the only way to tell the difference between boy and girl newborns... and with a name like Rhian, we REALLY need to dress our little girl in pink.

Yeah, this is what I have to deal with. If Corbyn feels uncomfortable going into the pink baby section, imagine the looks I get when I even mention I need to pick up feminine items. Or if he inadvertantly follows me to the feminine items section. Or if I even happen to put them in the shopping cart when we are shopping together. Or if they are in the same shopping bag as anything of his. You get the picture.

Labor sucks

OK, so writing about labor is hard. I don't want to share TOO many details because it gets gross too fast. Not to mention that I doubt you all care too much. So, here are the high points:

• Labor is the worst thing ever. I have never felt so wimpy in my life... I hear people talk about how their labor was fast and relatively painless - they got the epidural and life was all good. And it makes me feel like an absolute wimp... I thought I was going to DIE before I got the epidural.
• Corbyn and I managed to get caught in both morning and evening rush hour traffic. How? Well, we got sent home the first time we went to the hospital. Yeah, kind of embarrassing, but in my defense, they told me to come in when the contractions were 5-6 minutes apart. We went when they were 6-7 minutes apart, they strapped me up to all the monitors, but my labor was just not progressing fast enough to keep me. So, we turned around and went home through morning rush hour traffic. They told me to come back when they were 2-3 minutes apart... which just happened to be during evening rush hour traffic. Awesome.
• Something you never want to hear during labor (or any medical procedure, for that matter), "That's not good." Yeah, I was hunched over, waiting for the epidural guy to finish his work. I am trying very hard to hold still during contractions and I hear Corbyn say, "Is that blood?" and the epidural guy say, "Uh, yeah. That's not good." After all the horror stories you hear about epidurals, that is really not a good thing to hear.
• The hospital has some awesome puker bags. Yeah, if you have been reading my blog much, you know that I am apparently a puker when I am pregnant. Some guys at my work kindly supplied me with barf bags to carry in my car (thanks, Bryan). But, they are nothing compared to these awesome puker bags the hospital has. I actually took some when I left (Ssshhhh.) And, Corbyn got to witness me puking, for the first time of the pregnancy. I had been so careful, but there was no hiding it when I was strapped to the bed.
  
• I think it was almost as intense for Corbyn as it was for me. The trips to the hospital were very... uh... bumpy. I don't think he liked seeing me in pain because he was all over the gas and the brakes - very abruptly. It was actually pretty cute that he was so worked up about it.
• Same as above... the intensity caused Corbyn to make some strange, non-Corbynish decisions. We had both agreed that he would stay north of the border during the whole ordeal. During the heat of the moment, they asked him if he would like to help while I was pushing and he said yes! He wasn't thinking straight... I wasn't thinking straight- I thought I must be hallucinating or something. Had I been thinking straight, I would have said stopped him. But, luckily, it didn't take long for him to come to his senses. He assisted for one contraction (3 pushes) and then said, "I can't do this," and came back up by my head.
• I can't believe some women have to push for several hours. I only had to push for 45 minutes and she was born. The statistics say that most first time mothers have to push for 1-3 hours... I can't even imagine. I was completely beat after 45 minutes - if I would have had to keep going, I can't imagine that my pushing would have been very effective.
• The table they pull in for the final minutes of pushing reminded me of Braveheart and the table of torture devices they pull up for the final scene. It is covered with a white cloth, but you get some glimpses of some weird looking devices when they start moving that cloth around... and some of the stuff really makes you wonder what in the heck they would use something like for. 
• Another line you don't want to hear during any medical procedure: (doctor to nurse) "I can only find 7 sponges. Did you pick one up?" Yikes - for a minute, I was thinking of Seinfeld and the Junior Mint. (Don't worry - they found it.)
• If you are prone to nightmares - prepare yourself. Labor will haunt your dreams for several days.
  

There are probably other highlights, but I am trying to block most of the worst memories, so that is all I will include for now, other than some pictures of the prize at the end. :)

Initiation to motherhood: I got pooped on last night.

Well, I have LOADS to blog about, so I will be trying to catch up over the next couple days because I KNOW you all care. But, let's start with the most important things first: I got pooped on TWICE in one day. Well, technically, I guess to was over the course of two days, because the most traumatic event occurred at 3:00 am.

So, here we go: Our poor little Rhian developed some SERIOUS diaper rash. The pediatrician recommended Bag Balm (which was funny - he said, "Are either of you familiar with Bag Balm?" and then looked very surprised when we both said yes... he has no idea.)
So, we have been laying Rhian out diaperless (with LOADS of rags under her to catch any poop) so her little bum can air out. We thought rags UNDER her bum would be fine. We didn't know we needed rags covering a 1 foot radius in all directions. Luckily (unluckily), I was able to catch the majority of her explosion on myself, saving our couch. Disgusting.

So, we put her to bed. 2:30 AM comes around - time for her early morning feeding. I wake up, I feed her, I take her to change her diaper. She is all clean, and suddenly, it happens. Old Faithful erupts. We are talking volcanic eruption poop. Guinness Book of World Record Poop. To compound this, I had her legs in the air for the application of Bag Balm, which aimed her bum upward, allowing for more loft with the eruption. I didn't measure it, but I am pretty sure that 5 feet is no exaggeration of the distance. And it was not a small amount. It covered everything in it's path... me, our Love Sack, the floor, etc. I yell, in my shock and disgust, "Corbyn, HELP!" No response. I look at Rhian, thinking perhaps she would be giving me a face that would indicate that she had either been constipated, angry, SOMETHING that would be a future indication to me that this might be about to occur. Her eye were half closed... she wasn't even hardly awake. So, I spend the next hour and a half trying to clean up the HORRIBLE mess she has made all over the room and myself - but not an easy task when 1. it is the middle of the night and 2. you are as blind as me and don't have your contacts in.

And, of course, here is the kicker - after my cry of desperation to Corbyn for help... after 1 1/2 hours of disgusting cleaning up of poop - I walk into our bedroom to finally go to sleep and there is Corbyn, sawing some major logs. He slept through the whole traumatic incident. The next morning, I told him about it and told him we really needed to buy a carpet shampooer. He thought I was a little crazy... until he went to the scene of the "incident". Apparently, I hadn't done quite as good of a job cleaning up as I had thought. So, Corbyn spent a good deal of time scrubbing the carpet and then promply logged on to Amazon to purchase a carpet shampooer.

And now, I am afraid. Every time a change her diaper, I hold something in the path of the poop-hole. And airing her out diaperless? Forget about it. Her diaperless days are DONE. Frankly, I am concerned about a diapers ability to withstand the force of her poops... if the force behind the poop can be correlated to her size and will grow as she grows... um, give her just a couple weeks and we are going to be duct taping the diapers on her because that weeny tape on the diaper certainly won't hold. A few months? Geez, I don't even know if there is a man made material that could stop the eruption. Yikes.