Sneak Peek

So, I finally got around to scanning the ultrasound pics. Here she is!



I think she's got Steve's cheekbones :)



And here we have a foot :)

Army = Imminent Death

Because Steve's in the National Guard and has to go to drill one weekend a month, I'm left alone at church one out of every four weeks to teach the 8-9-year-olds in Primary. I explained to them a few times when he isn't there that Bro. Perry is in the Army and has to do "army stuff" one Sunday every month. The first couple of times they all had questions about what he was doing, if he had to fight in the war, and even if he had killed anyone. After a few months, the questions died down and they got used to Bro. Perry doing "army stuff" that day.

Except for one boy. Without fail, every time I mentioned that Steve was doing "army stuff", he would ask,

"Is he going to die?"

"No," I would tell him.

"But he was in the war, right?"

"For a little while, yes. But he probably won't have to go back."

Then the questions would end. Until the next drill weekend.

I found this sort of funny because this boy is a handful in class, and I knew he probably wasn't overly concerned about Steve's safety. More like, he wanted to talk about "tough" stuff, like people dying at war. But at the same time, if he would have asked me that during Steve's deployment, I would have cried every time.

Anyway, this year we have a new class. And it was also a drill weekend. I introduced myself to the kids and told them where Bro. Perry was. These kids are a lot more shy than my last class, so they didn't ask me anything.

Except for one girl, who happens to be the little sister of the inquisitive boy in my last class and equally as rambunctious.

"Is he going to die?"

"No, " I said.

"A lot of people die in the Army, " she replied.

"True. But there are a lot more people who come back safe. Bro. Perry was there for over a year and he's OK."

"I think about half of the people in the Army die," was her 8-year-old conclusion.

. . . til next drill weekend.

It's a . . .

GIRL!

Holiday Marathon

After spending less than 24 hours at home out of the last 10 days, Steve and I are glad to be back :) I'm lacking pictures, but hopefully we'll get some from our families in the next few days. Here are some highlights:

Christmas in Sac-Town with Steve's Family --

• Flights were delayed, but our luggage made it. Phew.
• Family get-together on Christmas Eve which consisted of goodies (mmm. fondue.), gift-card gift exchange, and my accidentally eating a chocolate expresso cookie. OK, the first half was accidental. :)
• An orange tree full of oranges in the backyard.
  
• Yay! Presents! And Baby even had a stocking.
• Night at the Museum. Not as cheesy as expected. A cute show, actually.
  
• Girls day out with my mother-in-law and Steve's two sisters. Massage, facial, and a hair-cut! The only thing missing was a pedicure, which Kimi and I went and got the following day. Yay for red toes!
• Go-cart racing. I watched, in case you were wondering. Still fun though. There were 11 racing and Steve came in 2nd. He seemed to like the winner's chair though.
• Steve's brother, Michael, had his eagle review. (Kimi, Rick, Michael, Judi, me, and Steve. Wow, I think this is the first prego pic I've posted. Not too much damage done, I suppose.)
  

• Lots of games of Killer Bunnies. In case you just furrowed your brow and wondered what the heck that is, it's an addictive little card game that has spread like wildfire in my family and more recently in Steve's. I should really devote an entire entry to Killer Bunnies. It's well-deserved.

[After arriving back in Salt Lake at midnight on Thursday, losing our luggage, waking up with colds, and Steve working a few hours on Friday, we headed up to Idaho.]

New Years in I.F. with My Family --

• Snow. Here's a good one of Abby on the back porch.

• My mom grabbing my stomach and saying "Hi" to the baby when we walked in the door.
• Very productive shopping on Saturday. Snagged some shoes, a book, and some Bath and Body Works clearance stuff.
  
• Chocolate fountain on Saturday night. Need I say more?
• Stacy and Matt came over! Matt's 3-year-old son, Ryan, charmed us with his two-line rendition of "Life is a Highway" from his all-time favorite movie, Cars.
• Spending most of Sunday in my pj's.
  
• Playing Ticket to Ride: Europe. Another game that we've discovered.
  
• Grandma and Dean!
• Driving around to look at the lights.
• Watching Ryan Seacrest and Dick Clark usher in the New Year (for the 3rd time zone :)).
• Taking down Christmas, which isn't nearly as fun as putting it up. Mom says the house looks naked now.
• Did I mention snow?
  

I need an extra day of vacation, I think.

Hormones + Stress = Snapping at the Bank Teller

So, the other day I was stressed out at work. No, let me rephrase that... I was fuming mad at work. (I'll spare you the details) Time comes for me to go home and I was almost over it, but not entirely. I made a stop by the bank on my way home to deposit some stuff for work and found all three lanes containing two cars a piece.

I've been trying to figure out a strategy for making my bank run as quick as possible. For a couple of months, the lane closest to the building seemed to move more quickly than the others because I figured out that one person was running that lane and one person was running the other two lanes. It made perfect sense to pick that one. So, that's what I did that night. As I was sitting there, the cars that had been doing their business pulled out into traffic again and the cars behind them pulled up. And two more new cars pulled in behind those. In the meantime mine hadn't budged.

"Ok," I thought, "If I would have picked either of those lanes, I would be in the same spot as those cars. So, if I make it out before them, that means that I picked the right lane."

A few more minutes passed and the cars I was watching were now at the sucking pipe things, giving their stuff to the bank. And I was now still one car away from the window and getting more and more impatient.

What happened next? Well, to sum it up, I decided to play musical lanes and finally ended up in my original lane. Had I stayed in that spot the whole time, I probably would have been on my way home.

Leftover fumes that I thought I had left at work turned into a raging bonfire. I was mad at my boss, I was mad that I'd had a cough for 4 weeks and still wasn't over it, I was mad at myself for switching lanes, I was mad at the stupid bank patrons who had more to do than a simple deposit and kept sending the pod-thing through the sucker, and finally, I was mad at the bank for not having enough people working that night so I could get home faster.

My anger finally rested on the cute little bank teller who took my deposit. Because I was close to the window again, she could see the irritation in my face as I said not-very-nicely, "You guys need to have more people working here at night. This is ridiculous."

She looked surprised for a second, then walked off to deposit my checks. When she came back, I fully expected a big, fat crusty from her. Or at least a cold look of indifference. But when she gave me my receipt, she smiled and told me to have a good night. And it was genuine.

I felt like the biggest jerk. I started bawling. I bawled until I got about halfway home. Part of me wants to blame my behavior on the surging hormones of pregnancy, and maybe that's partly the reason why I acted the way I did. But the bank teller's reaction to my outburst made me realize that although it might be harder to repress emotions and hold back anger right now, it's still possible.

Now I just feel embarrassed. I go to that bank about once or twice a week and there's no hope of her not recognizing the lime green VW beetle that I'm driving right now.

I need to give her a Christmas card.