Randomly Unrelated

I officially live in Minnesota now. The only times I have been farther from home than this are the two times I went to New York. I've got a good six months to make Utah seem way more heaven-like than I thought it was while I lived there.

I try to like Reese's every year when I get them in my stocking, but I still. don't. like them.  I don't think they are disgusting, but they just aren't amazing. My mouth must be broken.

If you gave me baby clothes, I love you. 

I don't understand how anyone could hate Chitty-chitty bang bang. It is the first movie I put in to distract Mav so I could go take care of some things around the house. (I usually try to get him to play, or take him to the other room when the television is on because I want an active child, but I REALLY needed to brush my hair.) 

Nail polish stays on your big toe far longer than any other nail. I am glad my cousin Kayla go married on September 8, so I could still have a nice hot pink shade on mine. 

I was nursing Mav today (sorry if this is TMI) and I had the blinds open to the great big windows in our apartment. Apparently a handy guy had to fix something right in front of our windows. It is good that I have learned the art of stealth. 

I probably won't close the blinds in the future, so don't walk by unless you text me first.

I get to hang things on my bare apartment walls today. I enjoy making things look pretty.

Don't tell my children or my students, but I break rules

I break the "never stay in the same clothes for more than 24 hour rule. Sometimes you wake up, and that white Hanes V'neck looks just as pristine when it did when you put it on last night. Can't justify putting it in the Laundry yet. Besides, if I wear it today, I will have four left to stretch through out the rest of the week. Love 5-packs.

I sometimes daily break the rule that says don't eat after 5 or 6 in the evening. What better time is there to enjoy a scrumptious something than at 10 o'clock when the baby is sleeping and you are secretly watching America's Next Top Model? (You clearly keep the remote in your hand so you can act like you are just flipping through channels when someone else may walk in.) 

I break the rule that says you should comfort your baby every time they start crying.

I break the rule that says you should let your baby to cry themselves to sleep. I am somewhere between the previous rule and this rule. 

Sidenote: Who writes baby rules? Because they are ALL over the place. 

I TOTALLY break the rule that says girls with big hips should not wear skinny jeans. I wear them and I love them and I feel amazing in them. 

I am trying to break the rule about all women having blatant insecurities, but am still working on it. I will get there by golly. 

Trumped

Chesley and I were married three years ago on the 27th.

Crazy eh? 

I thought I had no idea what I was doing. Pffff.

Now I REALLY have no idea what I am doing.

But we are having the time of our lives doing whatever it is that we are doing.

Ches flew back to Minnesota the day before our anniversary.

I thought about whining about it, but realized it could be so much worse.

So, fiddlesticks and phooey on whining.

Yesterday was my parents 27th anniversary.

clapclapclapclapclapclapclapclap

I knew what kind of marriage I wanted to have 

by the way they have always treated each other.

I wanted to marry someone just like my daddy.

  I pretty much got my wish.

Look at those love birds.

Mom was 19 in this picture.

NINETEEN!

Dad was coming in as a creepster at 24.

I'm glad he did.

This was their announcement picture.

They had this taken,

and then dad decided to do a sketch instead.

Don't you think he could be the genetic combination

Bill Nye and Bob Saget?

Anyway.

They manage to still really like each other.

Even will all of us crazies around. 

And, although he is now more often compared to Tom Arnold

than he would wish, he is as handsome as ever.

I think mom is even more gorgeous than she was at 19,

and even though we drive her crazy, she just smiles and loves us anyway.

Families are kind of a big deal.
I am glad I will have these guys around for kind of a long time.

That Sneaky Bounder

Time. He's sneaky. Mischievous. Loves Tom foolery and shenanigans.

He stretches himself out in what seems to be an endless way when you are waiting for something exciting or big. He also does this when you are going through something less than ideal.

Example: That drive from your house the your favorite grocery store or burger joint flies by like nothing...until you discover you have to tinkle, and then you get behind every single stinking slow person, and hit every single red light. You also know that somehow, someone threw in at least 10 extra miles of road between point A and point B. 

Then something wonderful happens, like you win an all expense paid trip to Disneyland for 10 days by being the 43rd caller at your favorite radio station. I mean ALL expenses. From tshirts to the caramel apples at the Winnie the Pooh shop.  You just get to charge it all to an account set up by the radio station. Then, while you are there, they offer you a couple of extra days because your family looks so happy that they want to shoot a commercial using you, and they need a shot on every single ride. Also, they will pay you for this.

Time will take this, and contract himself to seem a shorter time than that excruciating car ride to the grocery store.

Him and me, we aren't really friends.

On Loving Long Distance. Also, in General

So, Hubster and I have been living apart for a ridiculous amount of time now.  Four months will seem like hogswallop to military wives, but is really practically the entire life of our 5 month old little man. Forgive the melodrama, but he has been gone a LIFETIME! ...literally.

Sidenote: I wish people would look up the definition of the word literally before they would use it in an expression such as, "I literally just put my heart out there. There is nothing else I could have done."  I mean, ouch. Not to mention you must be dead, so I don't blame you for being able to do no more.

There is the possibility of Ches being gone for even longer blocks of time in the future, so I wanted to remember how we handled being apart for so long while still trying to build on our relationship, and have our feelings for each other continue to grow. Stagnant love is stinky love I always say...well not always, but I have said it now! But seriously, love takes effort.


Ches and I express love very differently. We took that cheesy, but valid, love language quiz, and came out in completely different categories.

I am a letter writer, and a vocalizer. I don't use the L-bomb lightly, even in my relationship with my spouse.  I love to receive love letters, and things of that nature.  Flowery expressions of love, and a list of things that one loves about me will make me smile, and get that warm, burny feeling in my heart.

Let me show you what a love letter from my husband looks like...

This beaut is from when we were dating.  I spent a week as a counselor for a youth retreat our church does every summer.  He has done this for me since we have been married as well.  As you can see, our levels of expression are quite different, however I have no doubt that had he had the option, King Tut would have been scrambling to solicit these skills to ornament his sarcophagus.

Ches is a server and a gift giver. I never have to mix up my own fry sauce or go to the fridge to grab my own water bottle.  (There was even one night I didn't have to brush my own teeth.) Each occasion that calls for gifts, I get showered upon (not literally).  needless to say, I am spoiled. I am the loser of the world when it comes to giving thoughtful gifts, and I sometimes get so busy letting Ches do things for me, that it doesn't even cross my mind to think of something he needs.

How do we fit together? How do we know that the other loves us?  Especially from so far away??

Number One: Biggest and most useful advice I could give to any couple anywhere under any circumstance is to try and understand the other person's point of view.  Ches knows that I thrive off of romantic expression in word or script, so he tries. His expressions may not be long, or full of beautiful language, but he DOES it! 

I really do try to be thoughtful in the gifts I give, but haven't been very successful yet. I try to blame it on the fact that our anniversary, his birthday, and Christmas are all within a month, one every two weeks, and who in their right mind can be THAT thoughtful in THAT concentrated of a time period ( I mean really, couldn't his parents have thought through their actions a bit more)...but it is just an excuse. To make up for this I have tried to do things like make the non-fun phone calls, and make sure he has a hot breakfast every morning. If you know a Lewis, you know breakfast is a BIG deal.

We both continue to try, and we are learning a lot about each other.

Number Two: Whether you live together, or are apart for reasons out of your control. Talk ALL THE TIME! Sometimes this isn't an option, but luckily it is for us. Sometimes most of a day will pass, and I will realize that I haven't talked to or heard from my husband really at all. Thinking about this made me realize that sometime we will sit in the same room for an entire evening, and barely talk because we are both so into our own things. SADNESS! When our kids are grown and gone, I don't want to discover that I don't know my husband because we didn't just talk often enough.

We have tried to be better.  Don't feel bad if you are not one of those couples that can talk endlessly always. We have those moments, but most of the time converstaion for us takes thought and effort.  So, at night our FaceTime conversations look like this:

In the end this very wordy post is mostly about those two final things. Whether you are trying to resolve something on which you think differently, or simply trying to learn to love each other more greatly and deeply, talk like you aren't going to be able to talk ever again, but every day, and always try to see through the heart of the other. 

I think Ches is on lunch break. I'm going to call him now.

How I typically recieve life changing news.

Chester Copperpot (my most loving, adoring name for husband) is 1600 miles away from me again.

Having him home and with me everyday, ALL DAY, was the biggest treat of my life. Even bigger than my love affair with frozen yogurt. I know. Huge.

The week before he came home we had this conversation:

Ches: I have some news.

Me: You're coming HOME?!?!

Ches: YES! Also....They want to hire me full time. I am coming home for four weeks, and then we are moving out here permanently.

Me:.....

Ches:...hello?

Me: Well. I suppose I am supposed to be excited? ..... Iamthrilledthatyoufoundyourfirstflightjobbutthatissofarawayandwejusthadourbaby,
andourparentswillbedevistatedIwonderifI'llbeableto
keepmyjobDoyouthinkwewillbeabletofindanotherhousetorentapartmentsarestinkyIhavenever
beenthatfarawayfromhomeformorethanafewdaysIneverevenstayedinLoganformore
thanthreeweeksstraightIamgoingtohavetodyemyhairdarkagainsince
Iwon'tknowanyhairpeopletokeepitred

Ches: Karlie

Me:ramblerambleramblefreakoutexclaimexcitmentramblerambleramble

Ches: KARLIE

Me. ramblefreakoutramble.

Ches: its going to be fine.

And that is the story of when I found out we are moving to Le Suere, Minnesota.

After the initial news, I was relieved to feel more excitement than anything else. I am leaving UTAH! Huzzah! What Mormon girl from Utah hasn't talked about leaving Utah! I am actually doing it without cheating, and only going to Idaho.

This has been such a relief because I usually suffocate myself and everyone around me with high levels of anxiety whenever my life changes drastically. You should all be glad you were not my mother the morning after the first night we had Maverik home.

It is mostly fine except that it is pronounced la sewer, and my dad and brother snicker every time it is mentioned.

It isn't New York, San Fansisco, Boston, D.C., or any of the glamorous places I've always imagined going, but I will totally take it. It will be an experience unique to us. We will make it just as exciting as it would have been in any of those fancy places.

I'm THAT mom

That constantly talks about my child

and posts pictures

and videos

You just can't help it. They take over your life in the most amazing way, and you cant help but want to talk about, and look at them all the time.

Bedtime Conversations

Me: My nose is running running running. I gotta go wipe it.

Ches: Then we can go sit on the bed and watch Doctor Who on your computer.

Me: Do I have to wear my pants?

Ches: No. Are you tired of them?

Me: Yes.


I mean really. Don't you get tired of wearing pants?

Five Steps to Bad Mothering

Your first step to bad mothering is to wait until your child is three months old, and looks super different from when he was born to have your first photo shoot.

Secondly you are afraid of taking photos of your child period because you worry people will look at them and say, its too bad that mom stinks at taking photos because that baby is as cute as a cuddly kitten.

Third, you eat chocolate sometimes even though it makes him throw up because he smiles while he throws up and you REALLY needed it.

Number four, you let your child remain in a onsie that has been saturated in more than two body fluids throughout the day.

Last, you blog while he is cooing and smiling and just begging for your attention two feet away from you.

Cuter Together

Than just about anything I've ever seen.

                                       I'm a little bit full of joy about the big one being back.

I call it....

The Swoon

Personalities X A Big Number

I know I have written a few times about Husband's Entertainment Habits. Here too.

I was browsing my cell phone pictures the other day.

As I got farther into the archives of my phone, a realization settled in on me.

I am quite certain husband has Multiple Personality Disorder.

These personalities sneakily take over him at the most unexpected times.

Caption precedes the picture.

Let me introduce you to....

Martha Stewart Chesley.....

Lunch Lady Chesley....He's sassy

Mint Condish, still in the box Chesley

 

Couch Model Chesley...needless to say, they sold out of that couch.

Monkey trainer Chesley

Nerdy Blue Steel Chesley

My most favorite of all...

.

.

.

.

.

Pirate Chesley

There was a picture of Cross Dresser Chesley...

But I could not bring myself to post it.

Maverik might see it.

I don't want to explain.

Look at the poo poo!

Before becoming a mother I had all kinds of expectations for myself. One of these expectations is that I would not use ridiculous baby talk to interact with my child.

You know the kind with the high pitched voice and slurred consonants?

I've had a child now. I do it. You'll all do it. Its like a reflex.

Here are the few of the things I've found myself saying, or considered saying in my highest vocal registers to a little boy who has no idea what I'm saying, and no way to protest

     Warning: a large number of these have to do with bowel movements.

Also, why does referring to myself in the third person seem to happen so much more now?

     Why are you breathing like a troll?

     Come here you pooper scooper!

     Okay Mr. Drama Queen, lets take our whiny pants of.

     Lets take care of this poop on the bum problem!

     Who is the handsomest boy in the world?

    Lets not shoot mom in the face with that!

...and many more.

This is the usual response....

He may have backed into a ditch...

But with a face like this can you see why I might miss him so much?

I'm on my way to being an ancestor

I'm practically an expert on bringing up posterity.

For example:

Blankets CAN double as burp rags and.....vise-versa.

It is TOTALLY fine to giggle at a child while they are crying when it is completely cute.

Cleavage is the perfect spit-up collector.

Cow's have it tougher than I'd ever imagined.

Morning is the best time to display your underwear to the house.

Falling asleep with a baby laying on your chest is close to the most precious thing ever.

You WILL end up going for boogers with your finger because the booger-sucker is in the other room, and if you leave it he might suck it back up.

Throw-up is a most excellent accessory.  It compliments every color.

Being a mom completely trumps not being a mom.

Bedtime Conversations: A Recap

While we were at my little brother's middle school production of Brigadoon a few months ago 

(which took place around my bedtime), 

we had the following exchange. 

Me: "We aren't really in love. We have never sung to each other like that" 

("like that" meaning awkwardly clasping both hands together 

while trying to sing without puberty interfering with our ability to hit the right note)

Husband: "Whatever." (body turn in auditorium seat, singing voice engaged)

"Whatya gonna do with all that junk? All that junk up in your trunk"

Commence disturbing those around us with poorly stifled laughter.

Maverik D: A Study in Faces

Now accepting appropriate suggestions for captions

Weepy

I'm going to be real you guys.

I miss Ches. I miss him so much that I have a hard time being at my house, and sleeping in my bed without him here.

I miss him so much that there is this weird achy spot in my chest when I think about him.

I miss him so much that when I look at my son, I see more of his father in him every time.

I miss him so much that I am almost starting to forget how I would get irritated when he would come home from being at work all day, and spend what felt like endless amounts of time playing silly games on the ipad.

I didn't realize that he is the only person that I really hug anymore. I'm not a big hugger. But I guess I still need hugs.

I didn't realize that kissing is such a big deal. How did I miss THAT?

I didn't realize that two weeks can seem like a second when your baby is growing faster than you have the capacity to keep track of, but at the same time can seem endless when your best friend and life companion is hundreds of miles away.

Can I survive twelve more weeks of his absence? Yes. I haven't been poisoned, beaten, or mortally harmed. 

Military wives and single moms...I respect you at a new level. You are the strongest women that exist. You make Chuck Norris look like a little girl with pigtails on the first day of kindergarten.

Husband, you are the best. Thank you for this. See you Mid-October. We'll do Mocktails and movie with lost of explosions.

* Update. Although I do still, and probably will continue to have, moments when I feel like this, it is not the norm! Maverik and I are lucky  to have family super close, and the vast majority of the time we are doing extremely well, and are very happy. 

Narnianesque

I have an obsession with doors. 

Especially old doors.

They have an element of mystery and history
that gets my imagination going every time.

What is behind them? 

Who was allowed to enter?

Where do they lead? 

Why can't I go in?

These are some doors I found during my walks around Brigham.
I can just see the stories oozing from the aged paint and weathered wood.

There was an old lady

But this post doesn't have anything to do with her.

This post has to do with her friend, the old man, that appeared in Maverik's car seat when we were on our way to my two week check up the other day.  

(Do all doctors have the mom come in after two weeks?
I thought that was kind of weird.)

He's gonna be a story teller.

The fish was "THIS" big, kind of story teller.

I lost my tooth in the war, kind of story teller.

And a very very cute story teller.

 Probably the cutest.

Like rabbits, they say

This

 

Has turned into this

Jaunting: A Past Passtime

This child has grown to quite a tremendous size, and I have become THAT pregnant lady that hobbles around cleaning up messes and starting crafty projects in order to concentrate on something other than the fact that he is still in there.

Better out than in my dad always said (I think a lot of people always said that), and I have never agreed with him more on anything. Ever. I know his flavor of philosophy bends this time-old saying toward flatulence and belching, but I have adopted it for my own purposes.

Point: I haven't been able to do my walks very well in the last week or so. I am just a little too big, and can't walk quite far enough to make it worth taking my camera. So for the sake of proving I actually have done it, and that I hope to do it again while schlepping a Lewis-y baby around, here are just a few more walking pictures.

I hope you don't care for captions because I don't care much for writing them. I just like pretty/neat/aesthetically pleasing things.

 

Aren't you just ecstatic for the day I will have my offspring awkwardly propped against public objects in order to give my photographs more visual interest?!

There are always three

Stooges, that is. 

Sunday morning dawned, and everyone was ready for church a little early.
I happened upon this sight as I came downstairs.

Just so you know, there is more seating in this room.

They just happen to like each other.

They also happen to show that love by keeping strict attention to their own devices.
Alex wins because his doesn't have a backlight.
No talking. Just shoulder rubbing.

Also. Yes, I'm still pregnant. 

No, I will not drink castor oil, 

but have considered jumping on the trampoline.

More Than Diapers

Change.

It is something I have craved yet been terrified of my entire life.

I want to be that girl that is different, innovative, and adventurous. I feel like there are parts of me that fit those three things, and parts of me that are so ordinary that I'm impossible to differentiate from any other young, married, Mormon girl.  That's okay. Young, married, Mormon girls have some excellent things going for them.

Husband can tell you that my reaction to change before it happens tends to be anxiety filled. I fret, over-think, and generally find reasons to not go through with the change. This has happened with marriage, moving, getting new jobs, graduating from college (I still want to go back for that art degree....), and choosing which flavor of Shasta to buy at the grocery store. He smiles at me, puts his hand on the small of my back, and with gentle pressure, leads me head-on into these changes.

Then, once the change has happened. I'm totally fine. I look back on my anxiety with a big fat question mark face, wondering where it came from. 

It has been the same with the baby.

I have become so comfortable with my life revolving around Husband and me. I know what to expect. I know what amount of freedom I have, and we could go anywhere and do anything on a whim.

Please know that this is NOT a complaint or a wish that we did not have a baby coming! Although there is an element of terror, it comes from the unknown. It comes from that nagging feeling that I will somehow ruin him by forgetting a feeding, swaddling him too tight, making him eat popsicles too early, or by dropping him from my lap while reaching for the remote to switch to the next episode of Modern Family.

This nervousness takes up about 5% of my feelings toward how my life is about to change. The other 95% is excitement and happiness and anticipation. This is thanks to Chesley. When I ask him if he is nervous he says, "Sure, but mostly I am just excited!".  He has kept me positive and anchored, and refuses to let me dwell on my fears of inadequacy.  I love him. He will be just about the BEST dad.

Baby, can you come already so I can do the question mark face part of this deal.

So, after all of this very poorly connected rambling...Here is to change! Here is to sharing our lives and personalities with our children while being careful to keep improving ourselves! Here is to sewing projects, bottles, onsies, diapers, burp-rags, poop-explosions, and smiles and happiness that I know I don't yet understand.