My Awesome Husband

For the past month or so I've been the worst housekeeper ever. The nausea has left me wanting to do absolutely nothing, so I considered it an accomplishment to plan meals, go to the grocery store, and do the laundry--all while keeping Owen alive. Everything else was left to the dust mites. My sweet husband has not complained once. You may think to yourself, of course he shouldn't complain. But this is a man who works ridiculous hours. Who also has to work on research projects and personal statements and attend crazy conferences where he has to participate in a super-nerdy form of Jeopardy. The pinnacle of my appreciation for him came yesterday though. I realized that at some point he had scrubbed both of the toilets in the house. I made a point to tell him how much I appreciated that, and he told me that he was worried I would become nauseous and have the situation made worse by bad smells from the toilet. Maybe some of you are reading that and thinking, "gross," but my heart was warmed.

Cards

My family visited this past weekend. Unfortunately, I'm terrible about taking pictures, so there are no photos to post with this entry. However, we had a great time. Owen was in heaven. He loves when we have visitors. He particularly likes suckering anyone and everyone into constantly building garages with him. The sweetest line came at the end though. He looked at me and said, "Mommy, they're trying to leave me, and I want them to stay." Nearly choked up this weepy pregnant lady.

I must say the highlight for me though was the many rounds of cards. We taught my little sis Kellie to play Crap and Spades. Very fun, even though she consistently beat us at Crap. I can't tell you how many fond memories I have of sitting around a table playing cards with my family. A summer Sunday afternoon, after eating lunch together and swimming in the pool. Vacations at the beach in the dead of winter (you can only swim in the indoor pool for so long). Random, lazy evenings. One memory stands out the most in my mind. My parents took my best friend and I to the movies. I pitched a fit about something. I was far too old for such behavior, and I'm sure I was acting like a total brat. My dad yelled at me. For those of you who don't know, my dad is NOT a shouter. For all I know, I may have even warped this memory a little. He probably just used a really firm voice. Either way, I decided to sulk. As soon as we got home I stormed off to my room (best friend in tow) and shut my door. It wasn't long before my soft-hearted dad was knocking at the door. All he said was, "You wanna play some cards?" And that was all it took. I couldn't be mad at him. I'm sure I subconsciously knew I deserved whatever he said. And there was no way I was going to turn down the chance to play Spades. So take note. If we're ever together and I'm sulking, just get out a deck of cards.

Poop

It's amazing how much poop you can tolerate as a parent. Poop on your hands, poop on shoes, poop anywhere and everywhere. Tonight we went out for a little dinner, Italian ice, and time at the very cool church playground. It was while on this very cool playground equipment that Owen declared, "I pooped." At the time, I was paused at the top of a slide, encouraging him to follow me down. He had already pooped today (and is usually a one poop a day kind of guy), so I assumed that he really meant that he pooted. So I calmly explained, "It's okay to poot on the slide." So he follows me down, gleeful all the way. We both climb back up the steps, and I encourage him to race me down the parallel slides, to which to replies, "I pooped again." This time I decide to actually take a peek down the back of the diaper, and lo and behold, there is some poop in there. Unfortunately, I didn't take the time to think my next action through. I encouraged him to go down the slide. Bad, bad idea. Poop no longer contained in the diaper. Or in the shorts even. Poop now dripping onto the shoes. Poop on the mulch. Gotta love it.