Sunshine, here I come!

Yes, I will admit it... it is 2:57 pm and I am having a very hard time staying focused on work. Tomorrow at this time, I will be sitting on a beach in Mexico drinking a nice tall Virgin Marguerita... (oh, wait - I know someone who ordered a Virgin Marguerita in Mexico - turns out it is just lime juice, which isn't tasty by itself in large doses)... ok, so I'll be sitting on a beach drinking a nice tall glass of... filtered water... Aaahhhhh.

If you aren't of the Female gender, this post is not for you.

Seriously, if you have the Y chromosome, stop reading this right now. For your own sake.

I was talking to a friend earlier today and UTI's (told you to stop reading) came up and it reminded me of my really awesome first UTI experience. Some people might consider this an overshare, but I think it is pretty funny. Now. At the time, it sucked.

So, I went to a conference in San Jose, CA. It was a 4 day conference - I flew out Sunday night and was flying back Thursday. I was traveling with my boss and 3 other guys. Sunday night at about midnight I woke up because I had to go to the bathroom worse than I'd ever needed to in my life. I didn't think I was going to make it to the bathroom, it was so bad. Made it - went back to bed. Didn't think much of it until about 3 minutes later when, once again, I had to go to the bathroom SOOOO bad. And you know how it goes... massive pressure, nothing really comes out. Having never had a UTI before, I was REALLY confused. I thought maybe things had built up so much that the pressure wouldn't release (don't ask me - I was confused and it was the middle of the night), so I should take a bath. Didn't relieve any pressure - big surprise. Anyway, I won't go into too many details, but I will say that once I observed the blood, I figured there was something more serious than just the intense need to urinate wrong with me, so I busted out the laptop and did a little research. First little gem of information: UTI's require antibiotics - they cannot be cured any other way. Second little gem of information: cranberry juice can relieve the symptons although they don't cure it. Third little gem: citrus and sugar make it worse.

So, here I am in downtown San Jose with absolutely no idea where I can go to get an Rx to cure me. Secondly, the rental car is in my bosses name (he's a man that at that point had been my boss for only a couple months. Last thing I want to do is share that I have a UTI and I need him to drive me to a doctor.)

So, I went down to the hotel bar (which luckily was still open) and asked if they had cranberry juice. The bartender asked what I wanted it mixed with and looked at me really weird when I said I wanted it plain. If he was a woman, he would have known. So, he gives me this small portion of cranberry juice in a really cool cocktail glass - I downed it and asked for another and he started looking at me like I was a crazy lady. But, at that point, I really didn't care - I just wanted to survive the next 4 days without anyone discovering my little secret.

And every restaurant we went to, I'd ask for cranberry juice as my beverage. And, FYI - the majority of restaurants don't have cranberry juice, but they will always offer orange juice instead. And look at you like your crazy when you say, "No thanks, I'll just have water." Cranberry juice or bust.

So, not too much more to say, other than that I probably spent half of each 1.5 hour conference session over the next 4 days in the bathroom. And the conference center had a little convenience store that I completely cleaned out of any drink that contained any mention of "cranberry", "cran", etc. Seriously - my laptop bag was full of the little 8 oz. bottles of fruit juice... I downed at least one every session. I am sure the guys I was with thought something weird was going on.. I was going through a cranberry phase or something.

Oh, and I forgot to mention that the conference registration booth was about 10 feet outside the entrance to the bathroom. I wonder how many times you can walk by before a stranger recognizes it is the same lady who keeps going into the bathroom? I bet I became a drinking game - take a swig every time that chick goes into the bathroom again. And I bet the registrars were all rolling drunk. :)

So, I realize this doesn't sound very funny when it is typed. Nor was it funny while I was suffering. But it sure seems funny to me looking back. And, the funniest thing is that I didn't want to tell Corbyn because it was so undignified and gross. I suffered in silence at the time. Now I throw out "UTI", "menstrual", etc. every once in a while just to see him squirm. :)

Great. Brett just joined the ranks of the blog visitors.

For those of you who don't know Brett, he is my smart-aleky brother who fancies himself a comedian. The comments are about to get a lot more interesting. (And by interesting, I mean mean.) :)

Eat dirt!!!

So, one time when I was young (very young - maybe 5 or 6), my dad told me to "Eat Dirt!!!" (His was of saying "No way!") I took him serious and went outside and ate a handful of dirt. I was such an obedient child.

Corbyn absolutely did NOT tell Rhian to eat dirt, but she ate plenty of it this weekend on our Lake Powell trip. It was pretty funny. I'd been making fun of Corbyn because when I went to his motocross race a couple weekends ago, everytime Rhian crawled near the dirt, Corbyn would freak out and be like, "Amy! She's getting in the dirt!!!" and so I was telling everyone we were going to have a prissy daughter and it wasn't going to be my fault. I could tell Corbyn was biting his tongue so hard it was going to scar while watching Rhian crawl around in the dirt and shove handfuls in her mouth... it finally got to be too much for him and he kept saying, "Amy, she is going to be sick. She's eaten way too much dirt." He finally just went and picked her up. It was pretty funny. See her dirt mustache?

This ones for you, Tio Collyn.

I'll show you to say I'm a bad blogger...

Some pictures of my bro-in-law at Glacier National Park. He's single, ladies... Highest bidder gets the date!

Shall we start the bidding at $20? (That's enough for a movie! (At least, it was a year ago when I used to go to movies... sigh.)

She crawls!!!

She's like a high-stepping prancing pony.

Getting closer to my goal...

So, everything I have read says you have to be patient with the weight loss after pregnancy. That it took you 9 months to gain it, so you should expect that it will take at least that long to lose it. (And, again, for the poor souls out there who believe the whole "Pregnancy lasts 9 months", you should know it is a conspiracy. Do the math: 40 weeks = full term pregnancy. 4 weeks = 1 month. Bust out a calculator and do some math... 40/4= 10 MONTHS. Yeah, I didn't do the math beforehand either. It is a huge conspiracy propulgated by the MALE gender... anyway, I digress. I'll save that rant for a different post.) So, anyway, my goal has been to be back down to my pre-pregnancy weight by the end of the 10 months. I have 6 weeks to lose 4 lbs... I am inching closer. If only I wouldn't have made that Brownie Pudding Cake this weekend. (Sigh.)

Oh, and for the record, my life will now be chronicled by "BC" and "AD". As in, "Before Conception" and "After Delivery". (Such as, in year 1 BC, I was much skinnier than in year 1 AD, despite the fact that the scale says I am close. Tape measures don't lie.)

Yeah, I think I am pretty clever.

OK - let's test my HTML skills

This is a book I created for my mother-in-law (aka. Rhian's Biggest Fan) for Mothers Day. It is pretty fun - I totally dig digital scrapbooking. Much more my style than busting out the glue stick and decorative scissors... probably because I am much more skilled with a computer than a glue stick. (I always manage to get it all over my hands... and subsequently onto the paper I am trying to cut, which then sticks to me... and the scissors... and the table... etc.

OK, so trying to imbed here... let's see if it works:

OK - so I thought I could hack their code, but clearly, I am not that good. That is what you get when a marketer who works on web projects think she can code web projects. I'll have to work on this later - here is the link to view it (I can at least copy and paste a link):

http://www.heritagemakers.com/projectBrowserBWC.cfm?projectID=9c590cf8-3048-32c2-acf3-ac29159cd240&productID=1

If you want to create one yourself, here is the website to sign up:

http://www.bindyourjourney.com/

She has her first tooth!!!

OK, I was starting to worry because everything I read said Rhian should get her first tooth between 3-7 months and we were 2 weeks past 7 months and NO TOOTH!!! But, I discovered one- finally! So, she is only 2 weeks behind... whew! Perhaps with some intensive training, she'll catch up. :)

And an unrelated picture - she is just too cute. Notice the shirt: Chief Executive Offspring. Yeah - she definitely rules the roost at our house.

And when I have a few more minutes, I'll tell you all about my second initiation to motherhood last night: "Rhian Poops in the Bathtub" starring Rhian and me. Once again, Daddy is strangely absent despite my many calls to him...

She sleeps...

I am a bad blogger, I know. But how does a mom have time to do this? Sheesh!! Props to all the moms out there who have time to both be involved in their babies lives AND update people on their lives.

Top 10 Reasons Bunko sucks

I started on this several months ago and never finished it.

I was invited by some ladies in the neighborhood to a bunco group. I went once... I have declined to participate since. Since I don't get to spend any time with Rhian during the day, I really want to spend time with her at night - no offense ladies, but yes, I prefer her company. :) Oh, yeah, and of course, since I was pregnant, I puked, which didn't help my love of the game.

Also, I have some beefs with the game itself. Here goes:

10: There is no real betting. Yeah, I'm LDS. So, betting is off-limits. But, I'll admit that in Vegas, I LOVE to play Black Jack. (Ok, I only really did it once and it was actually with someone else's money - long story, but it was really fun. Yes, I lost all the other persons money. :)) So, I dislike Bunco because there isn't any good real betting. I mean, you go KNOWING the set amount you'll lose. No risks, no excitement - nothing. If I'm going to bet, I want it to be good and exciting. Like, "If I lose this hand, I have no where to sleep tonight" exciting.

9: Bunco makes you feel stupid. It is such a simple game, but with 11 other ladies around you all yelling numbers, it makes it incredibly difficult to keep track of YOUR number.

8: B-U-N-C-O. Sounds a little to much like B-I-N-G-O. I turned 31 this past birthday, not 60.

7: Twilight. I know, women love it. They can't help it. But the only thing I heard anyone talk about other than yelling, "BUNCO!" was Edward and Twilight. (I don't even know the name of the chick in that book... all I ever hear about is this Edward dude.)

6: It takes a LONG FREAKING TIME! I'm down with an hour long dice game, but holy crap! Between the game and the food, we are talking a 4 hour commitment, minimum. And all the while, I am watching out the window and seeing the weeds grow in my garden, the grass getting longer, my motorcycle rusting, absolutely NOTHING happening in the kitchen, and Corbyn getting dumber by watching stupid shows like Run's House, Viva La Bam, and Little People, Big World. (I like to watch Law & Order (which Corbyn can't stand) when he is gone... he likes to watch those really DUMB shows when I am gone. I just don't get them. I can't stand MythBusters (I hate the dude's hat), but at least I see the appeal. But Run's House? I don't get it.)

Sorry, I digress... that is for another post.

5: Women don't trash talk. I need my games to involve a few insults. Nowhere, in the whole night, did I hear someone say anything like "You like Apples?"

4. Speaking of Apples, holy FOOD! Now, normally this would be a positive. But I just had a baby - I'm still packing an extra 10 lbs around. All that food so readily available does nothing to help me fit into my pants again.

3: I suck at Math. I know there is no real Math involved, but my lack of mathmatical skills makes me somewhat aversive to numbers all together. I hear and deal with numbers all day at work - why would I want to spend a night where the only words I hear are numbers and the occasional scream of "BUNCO!" Which leads me to my next one...

2: NO GOSSIP! I hate that all I hear all night are numbers and "BUNCO!". If I am having a girls night out, I want some good girly talk and gossip.

1: I will make enemies if I continue to play. As I mentioned above, I like the trash talk. I like to take it - I like to dish it out. And somehow, it doesn't seem like it would fly to come up to some woman at church and say, "Remember how I totally kicked your butt at Bunco last week?" or "Poor ! Couldn't keep track of your numbers? Perhaps you should go back to Elementary school and learn to count again..." or, "I can get you the phone number for Hooked on Phonics. You should give them a call."

I have no problem dishing out the trash talk when it is my family and/or guy friends, but this just doesn't seem the same. And if it is a game without trash talk, it really isn't worth playing. That is how I roll. (Perhaps that is why I don't have more friends... Hmmm....)

And a picture of Rhian, so no one is offended that I prefer her company. How can I not want to spend every moment with this???

Also, the other thing that occupies all my time? My exciting new business - Loftii.com. It is a way that you can choose the cause you are passionate about, then have retailers make a donation every time you shop. It's a way I can hopefully make the world a better place for this little munchkin. :0)

Rhian gives kisses

At first, I couldn't quite figure out what the heck she was doing... she'd just open her mouth really wide and dive-bomb my face. Then, I noticed that she was doing it right after I gave her kisses. (Yeah, I am sooo observant.) And thus, I deduced that this big, wide open-mouthed gumming is Rhian's version of giving kisses. And I LOVE IT! I go to work with slobber all over my face and shirt (did I mention she is a drooler?) (and, no, not MY drool) because I just sit and let her gum me for 15 minutes every morning.

Motherhood rocks.

The picture has nothing to do with her giving kisses, but it sure is cute, so I put it on here anyway. My blog - I can do whatever I want.

OK- I can't help it

I don't want to post billions of photos of Rhian on here, but she is so stinking cute I just have to post a couple. And one really attractive picture of Corbyn. (Have I ever mentioned how much he hates headbands and flowers?)

My stomach is disgusting.

There was a time I had a six pack.
Then I got pregnant and it turned to a keg.
Now, it is a bowlful of jelly.

I know, this is an over-share. No one wants to hear about my gross stomach, but I can't help it. I keep getting more and more depressed with every ineffective sit-up.

The ABC's of Pregnancy Puking

So, my sister made me this super cute little ABC book to populate with stories of my wonderful pregnancy puking. You know, because it is something that I really want to remember and cherish for the rest of my life. Uh, huh.

It was actually so fun writing in it, I thought I would put it on my blog. Sorry I talk so much about puking in this blog - I realize it isn't something anyone really wants to read about, but hey, its my blog, so I'll write what I want. :)

A is for Apples. Because they are the only thing that I managed to be able to eat EVERY DAY, puke back up innumerable times, and still have the stomach to eat again. Also, for airports. Just avoid airplanes all together when you are pregnant. But, if you have to fly, check your baggage. As difficult as it is to fit into a bathroom stall with carry-on luggage normally, it is virtually impossible if you have to assume the puking position.

B is for Breakfast. All 6 times I would have to re-eat it in the mornings. Also, for Bacon. Manna from heaven on the way down - pure torture coming back up.

C is for Carpool. My carpool buddies brought me barf bags, in case I couldn't make it all the way. Thanks, guys. Also, for Corbyn, who once claimed that "husbands are the real victims of pregnancy". Yeah, I feel really sorry for him, having to watch TV, sleep, ride his motorcycle, eat, shoot his gun, etc., all while I hung out on the floor of the bathroom waiting for the next round.

D is for Doritos. For a while, they were actually one of the few things that sounded good to me to eat. Then I puked them. Doritos always have a strong flavor... imagine it in reverse and in your nose. Yuck.

E is for Eating. For those of you who know me well, you know how much I LOVE to eat. Then came pregnancy. A never ending cycle of puking and eating... pregnancy deprived me of my love for eating. (Sniff.) Also, for Executives. I was in a meeting with 3 of our company executives and had to run for the bathroom in the middle of a comment from the CEO. Wouldn't have been bad if there were a lot of people... there were 5 of us.

F is for Family. I managed to puke in every single one of my siblings houses, except Tom's. While this may not be impressive to some of you, please keep in mind that I have 8 siblings. I could tell you whose toilets are cleanest...

G is for Ginger Ale. Some people say it calms your stomach. (Has to be the real stuff, which is nasty.) I tried to choke it down a couple times, but after the pain of choking it down, puking it back up was a real slap in the face. Also, for Granola Bars. I kept a box next to the bed for eating in the middle of the night after waking up to puke. Otherwise, the empty stomach would make me sick all over again. Wow.

H is for Hell. Puking is Hell. Nuff said.

I is for Ice Cream. Quite pleasant to puke, actually.

J is for Jalapenos. Top 3 worst things to puke - it burns, as you might imagine.

K is for Krispy Kreme donuts. Which I never actually had during my pregnancy, but I did have donuts and they are not bad to puke at all. The grease in the donuts makes them come back up nice and smooth. Gross.

L is for Lowes. I puked in two Lowes - both had very nice, clean, empty restrooms. If you MUST puke, may I suggest Lowes.

M is for Milk. People claim milk is nasty to puke. Not true. Clearly, they haven't had much puking experience. It really isn't bad.

N is for Nachos. Which I have always felt may be one of the greatest things of all time to eat. I have very mixed emotions on how these are to puke. They actually taste pretty much the same coming back up as they did going down, so in that way, it isn't bad. But the fact that it isn't bad makes it pretty disgusting. (If that makes sense.)

O is for One Eight Hundred Contacts (OK, that was retarded.) But really, 1-800 CONTACTS has GOT to be one of the nicest places to work, if you are going to puke on a regular basis. Our CEO is kind of a germ-a-phobe, which means our bathrooms get cleaned multiple times a day. Very nice.

P is for Popcorn. Top three worst things to puke. It gets stuck in your throat on the way back up. Also for Peanut Butter. After my nightly ritual of puking, I would eat a PB&H, because they are filling and would last me through the night and not too unpleasant if it came back up. Also, for Phenergine. One of the prescription drugs they give you if you are losing too much weight from puking in an attempt to stem the tide... one of the many drugs that failed to do jack for me.

Q is for quiet. Ask Corbyn, I was SUCH a quiet puker. I am so proud.

R is for Races. If you are inclined to puking, avoid motocross races at all costs. The only bathrooms there are port-a-potties. And they are the absolute worst. The only good thing is that they are disgusting enough that you will very quickly be done with your puking.

S is for Sushi. I didn't even eat the raw fish, since it is frowned upon while pregnant, but even cooked fish is pretty darn nasty to puke. Not quite top 3, however.

T is for Toothpaste. When you puke all the time, you go through an incredible amount of toothpaste. (Which, incidentally, becomes mentally connected with puking, so you begin to develop aversions to certain flavors of toothpaste.)

U is for Unisom. Yet another drug that supposedly stops the puking. Yet another drug that failed.

V is for Vitamin B6. You guessed it - another drug that stops some people from puking... I am not some people.

W is for Watermelon. Top 3 worst things to puke. I know- it is surprising... I'll just say that is comes out thick. Also, for Walmart. One of the worst places to puke. Dirty, small, and very, very busy. In fact, you sometimes have to stand in line for the pleasure of puking in their disgusting toilets.

X is for X-tra. You would be surprised at how long gum can keep puke down. I don't know what it is... maybe the swallowing, but it is a great way to delay, temporarily, the inevitable puke.

Y is for yuck. OK, I actually just couldn't think of one for Y. I will update this one if I ever think of one.

Z is for Zofran. Guess! That's right. ANOTHER prescription drug that supposedly keeps you from puking. This one comes at $20 a pop. Verdict? Ineffective.

AC/DC Rocks

For Christmas, I gave Corbyn the AC/DC track pack for Rock Band. We had some of my nieces and nephews over to play other day and my 4 year old niece, Gabriella, showed us all that AC/DC rocks. No one taught her how to throw her hair and head bang- the music just spoke to her soul... or something. In case you can't tell, she is singing "Thunder struck" and clearly only knows the "Uh, Uh, Thunder!" part of the song. Enjoy:

She smiled (and she wasn't even tooting).

Rhian started smiling on purpose two days ago. This is as close as we could come to catching it on camera. Ignore her baby zits... or her "scarred face" as Tio Collyn calls it. She is still adorable.