If you want to feel old or depressed...

...read your own will.

I'm pretty anal about tying up loose ends. Like as soon as we bought our first home, I had Charming take out a life insurance policy to cover the home's cost while I was still in school.

And then after Bubbers was born, I wanted to get a will to say who'll get him if we die. So, we did. (Get a will, not die).

A few weeks ago, we sat in an office with a lawyer who used words I'd never heard and asked questions I'd never heard (mostly about assets and stuff).

I kept thinking, I don't care about all these money questions, all that matters to me is that Bubbers goes to the people we want.

Then I realized the money does help take care of Bubbers, too, so I tried to care more about it.

Now don't get me wrong. I'm not trying to be morbid or all gloom and doom. I'm just trying to take care of this wonderfully chubby and adorable son that God has given me.

You better believe I have every intention of being around for my 120th wedding anniversary. But just in case, I want to make sure that Bubbers will always be in a loving home with righteous parents and the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

So if that means I have to read and sign papers with the words "LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT OF HEIDI..." across the top, then I will. Even if it makes me suddenly and keenly aware of my mortality. And even if it makes me cry while changing my son's diaper and seeing his cute, chubby thighs.

At least it will help me sleep better at night. After all, it made a huge difference in Charming's life.

I'll bet his first adoptive mom felt at peace when she passed away, knowing that her dear boy was going to the two people on earth she wanted to have him.

This whole will thing has also got me thinking about Heavenly Father... When my husband and I sat down and had the discussion of, "Who would we want to raise our son?" it made me wonder if that happens in the pre-mortal life.

Now that I have my own child, I realize the importance of that decision.

"Who do you entrust with your most precious gift? With this little life you've created and loved?"

How sad Heavenly Father must be when sending His dear children to terrible homes.

And in contrast, how happy He must be when sending them to wonderful homes.

This makes me want to be a home that Heavenly Father enjoys sending His children to.

My son's worst enemy

Sure, it looks innocent enough. But one suck from this baby turns my baby into a banshee.

Yes, Bubbers has his very first real stuffy nose. Up until yesterday, he's been the picture of manly health and vitality--just like his father.

Unfortunately, the cause of this stuffy nose is not so clear...

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Scenario #1: Bob's Corn Maze

I thought it would be fun to go with Charming and the Boy Scouts to "Bob's Corn Maze".

This is us at the entrance to said maze:

Of course, this was before we got lost in the maze. And before the torrential rainfall.

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Scenario #2: The Tooth

During the drive to aforementioned corn maze, I was giving Bubbers his daily soothing gum massage and lo and behold, what did I find? A tooth!

(Well, not a complete tooth, but the just-starting-to-poke-out protuberance of a tooth! My baby's growing up!)

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Scenario #3: Allergies

The same day Bubbers got congested, so did Charming. This is interesting, because Charming never gets sick. In our house, if someone gets sick, it's me.

However, while Charming never gets sick, he does have allergies. Particularly when the seasons change, and fall has definitely hit the Northwest.

So, Charming thinks his allergies flared up, and since Bubbers exhibited the same symptoms as himself at the same exact time, Charming suspects allergies are the likely culprit.

(Can babies even have seasonal allergies??)

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So, let's take a vote. What do you think?

What caused Bubbers' stuffy nose?
	Bob's Corn Maze
	The Tooth
	Allergies
pollcode.com free polls

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p.s. Hey, experienced moms out there, I want to make sure I'm doing this right.

Is this how it goes?
Step 1: Squirt saline up each nostril
Step 2: Baby cries like crazed banshee under water
Step 3: Suck it all out
Step 4: Repeat every few hours

Proof of my stupidity

So, apparently, this is the wrong way to use a crock pot.

Now that I've had a day to think it over, I really think they should have made this thing with a non-meltable reinforced cord for crack pots like myself who try to kill themselves.

Hmm, since I'm an adult American citizen, I suppose the next logical step would be to sue someone...

I almost died today

Well, not "almost", but I could have. It was because of my own stupidity, too.

So, I was really excited to try a new crock pot recipe. Beef stew. Mmm.

I was so proud of myself. I remembered to thaw the meat last night. And this morning I remembered to actually make it.

I was cutting potatoes and singing "Old MacDonald" to Bubbers (boy, does he love that song), thinking to myself, This crock pot stuff is great. Now I can do whatever I want and dinner's all done!

Then during Bubbers' nap, I was relishing the latest installment of "Pioneer Woman's" romance story and I suddenly heard a loud "POP!" coming from somewhere in my house.

Confused, I walked down the hall toward the kitchen.

Was that the lid to the crock pot? I wondered. Sometimes the lid jiggles around when I have it on high, which was all I could figure for the source of that noise.

Then I rounded the corner and just stared.

What on earth??

The side of the crock pot was black, as well as the counter top next to it. Looking closer, I finally figured out what happened.

I am such an idiot. Whoever allowed me to run a kitchen of my own was beyond crazy.

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"Hello?" Charming answered.

"Hi," I muttered angrily.

He laughed, "What's wrong?"

"I'm stupid," I answered.

"What do you mean?"

"I ruined our crock pot and blew the fuse in our kitchen. How do I turn the power back on?"

(Laughing now) "What???"

"I turned on the crock pot with the cord caught in it. The cord melted and blew a fuse. All I heard was a loud "POP!" It's a good thing I'm lazy and stayed home all day, or else I would have burned down our house. And then we'd be on welfare. We couldn't even eat our food storage because it would have burned all up. So which breaker do I flip?"

(Actually, since the power turned off, it wouldn't have caught fire. But, as is evidenced by our broken crock pot, I wasn't doing my best thinking today...)

Charming talked me through the whole breaker thing, and just before he hung up, he said, "Check your email. I just sent you a link to a crock pot at Walmart. If you want, I can pick it up on my way home."

"Aw, you're great, thanks, Love!"

I checked it out-- a 6 quart crock pot! Sweet! That would be quite the upgrade from our tiny broken one...

Then I remembered how our camera broke (actually, I found out later it was just a bad battery), and then Charming bought me a new one.

Now our crock pot broke, and he wanted a new one.

Hmmm, I thought, looking around the house critically, What else should I break???

It's all relative

One thing I struggle with as a mom is that I can only see Bubbers as he is right now and I forget how he used to look. The only way I'm able to notice his gradual changes in appearance is by watching videos or looking at pictures. But even then, I can't really remember on my own. (It's actually hard for me to believe that that's my same son in the video as who's in my arms).

In fact, I often wish I could see him through other people's eyes. That I could say, "Wow, he's so much bigger than the last time I saw him!" or "He's sure looking more like his Dad!" I mean, I know he's changing and getting bigger, I just can't really see it or feel it. And that makes me sad.

Yesterday, Charming and I watched little Preston, so his parents (our good friends) could go to the temple. Preston is about three months younger than Bubbers, and it was so delightful having them together.

This is a picture from the first time we met Preston, when he was only 12 days old:

Here's a picture from yesterday:

It was so fun for me to have Preston there with us. Not only was he absolutely sweet, but in a way, he allowed me to "see" Bubbers through other people's eyes.

I was able to hold little Preston and feel how small he was compared to Bubbers. For once I could actually feel how heavy Bubbers was when I picked him up, you know what I mean? Usually it never registers--Bubbers is Bubbers. He doesn't feel heavy or light, he's just what he is.

But I loved being able to hold Preston and be like, "Wow, you really fit in one arm without hurting my back. That's right. Bubbers used to be like that." And then I could pick up Bubbers, "Uuff, man are you heavy!"

And little Preston was sooo cuddly. You could hold him on your shoulder and he'd just nestle in your neck. And his head smelled so good--exactly like a baby should.

I'd love to say that Bubbers used to do that, but he never did. He's never really been a cuddler. Sometimes he falls asleep with his head in the crook of my neck and I sigh happily and pretend he's cuddling me, but that's about it. (Oh, and sometimes he rubs his face back and forth against my shoulder like he's got an itchy face. I like that.)

I also wish he smelled good all the time, but that's not true either. He smells good right after he's taken a bath and I smother him in lotion. But then he slowly gets that milky smell again from all his spitting up.

That was another amazing thing about Preston--he never spit up! Not once the whole time we had him! You could hug him, and there weren't 45 layers of burp rags and soggy bibs between you and him. It was just: him!

Whenever I start to ache for a hug from Bubbers without all the layers, I take off his bib, put down the burp rag and then hold him tight and close my eyes. But I'm never really at ease. I'm always listening for that gurgling sound that usually precedes the spewing fountain.

Wow, I never realized how much the spitting up factor changes things... Bubbers has spit up from two weeks old on, so we've just gotten used to it--that's just how he is. (Well, as much as you can get used to it, since it's completely unpredictable). He goes through 30 bibs and 20 burp rags in about four days (in addition to all his clothes and all our clothes).

But I can't complain, because he got it from me. According to my Mom, I was the spit-up queen. So, I just have to smile and shrug my soggy shoulders.

It was also neat to see the developmental differences between Preston and Bubbers. What a difference three months makes at their age! A difference that will fade to nothing in just a few years.

A Cry for Help: Update

Wow, thank you everyone for your great advice and support! Just asking for help made me feel better about the whole thing. :)

I've deliberated long and hard about what to do... I bought rice cereal and little spoons with the "soft bite" ends. I even pumped one morning so I could put it in the rice cereal. But when it came down to giving my little baby solid food, I just couldn't do it.

Actually, just opening the new spoons and holding them in my hand made my eyes misty. One of my sisters-in-law emailed me some advice rather than posting a comment, and she said that above all, enjoy him being a baby. Her oldest "baby" is now 10, and she said it flies as fast as everyone says it does.

Holding those spoons in my hand suddenly made me see Bubbers walk into the kitchen as a young man, standing taller than me with a deep voice and his father's quick wit. (Oh boy, here come the tears again...). By the time Charming found me, I was a mess and he just opened his arms and I "soggified" his shoulder.

I even went so far as to convince myself Bubbers didn't actually need to start solid foods until at least 8 or 9 months old, if that. But then a good friend reminded me that he really does need to start at 6 months for the iron.

"Oh, yeah," I remembered, "I forgot about that..."

So, I froze the milk. I ran the spoons through the dishwasher and put them in the drawer. Then I put the rice cereal in the cupboard.

Two more weeks, I told myself.

Then last night, I rolled out of bed as soon as I heard him wake up. As I fed him, I looked down at his small pudgy fingers. I reached for them and he grasped my thumb. Pulling his fingers up to my lips, I kissed them.

They'll only be this small once, I thought.

Suddenly, I wasn't in such a rush to eliminate his middle-of-the-night feedings.

A Cry for Help

So, Charming and I are trying to "eliminate" Bubbers' last remaining feeding at night. According to Dr. Ferber on page 141, he says:

...basically no normal, healthy full-term babies still require a nighttime feeding when they are five months old, and you can certainly insist on stopping them altogether if you want to.

Bubbers is 5 1/2 months old (and normal and healthy and all that), so we decided to "insist on stopping them altogether".

Now, I have loved Dr. Ferber's book through and through. He didn't make me want to bang my head against a wall or chuck him out the window to feed the squirrels in my backyard like another book which shall remain nameless. But the thing is, he didn't really explain how to "insist on stopping them altogether". Usually he's really good about that, but not so much for this issue.

So, I was visiting teaching last week and I asked my partner (a mother of three) and the woman we were visiting (a mother of one) how they stopped. They both said, "Cry it out."

We have tried, but we just don't get Bubbers. He's completely unpredictable. On Sunday morning, he slept 11 hours and had to be woken up for church. We patted ourselves on the back, thinking we had this thing down pat. Then he slept only 7 hours, but only cried for 20 minutes. Then last night he slept only 6 hours and then cried for 2 1/2 hours (on and off), before I decided, "That's enough." (Poor Charming couldn't sleep (I should have given him a pair of earplugs), so he got up and watched a Cosby episode on DVD and ate some cereal).

To help us, I've been diligently charting his sleep habits on Dr. Ferber's little chart, but can't see any pattern of why he's unpredictable (hence the use of the word: unpredictable). Then I get to wondering about possible teething or growth spurts or alien invasions. Should I just give up? No, I think we can do it...

So, now I'd like to ask more moms out there what did you do to get your babies to give up their last nighttime feeding??

I've heard many moms swear that rice cereal does the trick. Currently, Bubbers is breastfed full-time and we prefer to wait until 6 months to start solids, but I'm willing to try it, if that's what he needs (heck, it's only a couple weeks off anyways). I only ask that if that is your recommendation, please give me specifics, because I am clueless as to how to do that. (For example, How much do you give exactly? When do you give it--the absolute last thing before bed? Or do you do rice cereal and then nurse? Or nurse and then rice cereal?)

Poor little Bubbers has always been such a good sleeper for us, I feel badly that I'm messing him all up now. But hopefully I'll get an answer to my prayers soon... Thank you!!

Goodbye, My Friend

I lost a dear friend today amidst tragic circumstances. But first, let me take you back to last night...

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"I'm sorry, Love, I just can't find a stud," Prince Charming explained apologetically.

He was standing on the bed, moving the stud-finder back and forth under our popcorn ceiling.

"What should we do?" I asked.

"Well, let's try it without one," he answered.

I handed him the ceiling hook and he screwed it into the ceiling (with his bare hands--I was impressed). Then I handed him the edge of my new purchase: 4 yards of black fabric.

Charming attached the fabric to the ceiling hook and ever so gently let it go. The weight of the fabric easily pulled the hook out of the ceiling and it all toppled down.

"Uh-oh," I said.

Charming and I decided to bag our efforts for the evening. My lofty plans to hold Bubbers' five-month photo shoot in my makeshift "studio" weren't working out as well as I'd hoped...

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This morning, I was huffing and puffing to my step-aerobics tape when Charming popped his head into the family room.

Bubbers was in his walker back in the corner (carefully positioned so he couldn't watch the TV).

"Hi, Bubbers!" Charming cooed over at him.

Bubbers didn't even blink. All he did was stare at my flailing with a blank, open-mouthed expression. The tray on his walker was overflowing with toys, but he ignored them and steadily fixed his eyes on me.

"Hey, Little Man!" Charming tried again, getting closer and louder.

Bubbers started from his trance, glanced at his Dad momentarily then slowly, as if drawn by a powerful force, returned his gaze to me.

I don't look that bizarre... do I?

Defeated, Charming turned to me, "It's done!"

"What's done?"

"Your hooks," he explained, "I found a ceiling stud and they're all done--drilled and everything!"

"Thanks, Love!!"

That's my Prince!

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Things were falling into place! During Bubbers' nap, I hung my new black fabric over our bed and assembled my cameras.

"Happy 5 months!" I cooed, scooping him out of his crib after he woke up all smiles.

I carried him into Heidi's Studio (in the flesh!) and the photo-shoot began!

It was going along just perfectly!

I couldn't have been happier!

And that's when it happened.

My camera died. Right then and there. Kapoot. Frozen. No hope of return.

My dear friend and companion of over two years. A sweet graduation gift from Prince Charming. My first digital camera ever. The producer of thousands and thousands of treasured pictures. Gone just like that.

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"Please leave me a message after the beep."

Beep!

"Hey, Love, it's Heidi," I said into the phone, "You know how you were asking me what I wanted for my birthday? Well, I know what I want now, so gimme a call when you get the chance. Love you, bye."

Farmer in Training

There are many people who adore Bubbers.

The free sample ladies at Costco. Our neighbors. Little children. The Relief Society ladies. The teachers and priests who play "peek-a-boo" and make him laugh in Priesthood opening exercises. Strangers on the street. Me. Prince Charming.

And, of course, his wonderful grandparents.

Bubbers has found an especially fond place in the hearts of Charming's parents. They love hearing about Bubbers and I love talking about Bubbers, so it's a perfect match! :)

The first time Charming's parents met Bubbers, they brought him a special gift. Or rather, Grandpa brought him a special gift. And it's been hanging in Bubbers' closet since then, awaiting the day that it fit.

Today was that day. After Bubbers' morning nap, I gave him an extra soapy bath so he'd be extra soft and extra good smelling. (Mmm, I love the smell of a freshly bathed baby).

Then I put it on and got the camera.

We love you, Grandpa!!

The Thumb War

Long before we had kids I decided they wouldn't suck their thumbs. I think I've always felt that way--at least as long as I can remember--but the decision became solidified during my former life as a speech-language pathologist.

"Bite down and show me your teeth," I said and turned my client's head with gloved hands to get a profile view of her pearly whites.

Mhm, that's what I thought, eyeing the large overbite that was causing her lisp, She was a thumb-sucker.

The poor girl didn't stand a chance without some serious orthodontia work. I informed her parents there wasn't much I could do to help her until her overbite was corrected.

When little Bubbers came along, I was ready.

"Uh-oh," my Mom said a few days after his birth, "I think he takes after you." (Referring to my infantile need to suck 24/7).

I watched him like a hawk and the minute he showed an ounce of blurry, cross-eyed interest in his hands I broke out the first line of artillery: no-scratch mittens in five different colors and two different sizes.

That kid didn't know he had hands 'til he was 3 months old. Sure, I took a lot of grief for it, but there was no way I was going to let him suck his thumb.

Did he actually ever try to suck his thumb? Well, no, but that was irrelevant (ah, the wonderful folly of being a first-time parent).

Then Bubbers started using his hands. My heart broke when he reached his little mittened hand up to bat at a dangling toy.

Okay, I relented, He can have his hands whenever I'm watching him.

The mittens were removed and only replaced when he wasn't within my line of sight (i.e., naps & bedtime).

He started grabbing things with his chubby little fingers. (Burping after a feeding suddenly became more complicated as he got his perpetually sweaty fingers tangled in my hair and pulled me this way and that like a puppet on strings).

Then the sucking began. It was small at first. A couple sucks of his index finger here. A slobbery fist there.

Well, I told myself, I suppose it's okay if he sucks, as long as he doesn't show a preference for a certain finger or something.

I never knew how cute he would be, aimlessly, yet ferociously, sucking one to four digits at any given time. Happily, he looked up at me and cooed with his mouth full.

Awwww, I smiled, blissfully snapping a hundred pictures.

But it couldn't last forever.

"Hey, Love," I said suddenly, "What's Bubbers doing?"

We both stopped and stared. He looked like he was sucking his right fist, but there was something about it that wasn't quite right...

"He's sucking his thumb!!" we answered simultaneously.

Albeit, it was only the itsy bitsy tip of his right thumb, but there was thumb suckage nonetheless.

That's when I pulled out my second line of defense: pacifiers.

A plethora of age-appropriate pacifiers were strategically placed throughout the house and one attached to his ever present bib.

Now I've got you, I thought confidently.

Whenever Bubbers sucked the tip of his thumb, I said, "No thumbs, please," and replaced it with his pacifier.

A few days ago, Bubbers upped the ante and found his entire right thumb in isolation of his fist!

"No thumbs, please," was uttered constantly, and I forgot what Bubbers looked like without a pacifier in his mouth.

One night during a diaper change, Bubbers threw down the ultimate gauntlet...

I looked up to find him sucking his thumb AND the pacifier at the same time!!

Holy smokes! I didn't even know that was possible!


I knew things were quickly getting out of hand (no pun intended), so I pulled out the big guns: extra long socks.

The mittens of his youth had become no match for Bubbers--they were easily removed and mysteriously thrown out of his crib. Searching for an alternative, I remembered my sister Nelly had mentioned that socks can work as mittens.

Bubbers' right arm became a soggy sock.

Heaven help us if he ever finds out he has a left thumb.

What's in a Name?

Choosing names has always been difficult for me--especially under pressure. I sat there staring at the screen, my husband looking over my shoulder.

"What are you going to call it?" Charming asked.

"Uh...I'm not sure," I answered nervously.

I typed in a title. Delete. I tried another one. Delete.

Finally I just took a deep breath, typed it in, closed my eyes and clicked the button.

"Why did you choose that one?" Charming asked.

Uh-oh, I thought, Isn't it obvious?

See, I love making DVD movies. It combines my two great loves: family and home videos/pictures. (My nieces and nephews wouldn't recognize Aunt Heidi without a camera glued to her face).

I learned about video authoring a few years ago and it was like the heavens opened with an angelic choir singing and light poured down upon my upturned face.

This is my calling! I thought, and I've never looked back.

Mostly I make movies of family reunions. See, I have three brothers and four sisters. All but one of us are married with children and we're all scattered across the western half of the United States. But we love being together. So every year we pack up our children and car seats and trek to my parents' house in beautiful California. Then we live it up with Mom's delicious cooking, late-night Mafia games, music performances and tons of laughter!

So far I've made three movies. Fortunately, my family loves them. In fact, this last reunion they made me cry when my oldest brother gave me a check to buy a new computer! Secretly, the whole family pooled together money for me and my husband bought me this sweet new machine that's so fast! (Can you believe that? Am I lucky, or what?)

Anyhow, while making my second movie, I recruited my brilliant husband to make a Flash clip to be my new trademark: Heidi's Studio. I wanted something simple, classy and feminine. Of course, he did a great job--exactly what I wanted. (Like I said, he's just brilliant. And funny, too. And handsome).

That was a couple years ago, and now Heidi's Studio has taken on an entity all its own. (That doesn't mean I have to pay taxes on my family's gift money, does it?)

So, it was the natural choice for the name of my new blog.

(p.s. My current project is huge--kind of a biographical piece spanning from my parents' births to their children's marriages. My goal is to have it finished in time for their 40th wedding anniversary next year. Here's a link to the trailer I just made for it).

Taking the Plunge...

Last night I was looking at some friends' blogs and thought, "These are so neat. Too bad I'm not interesting enough to be able to do a blog." Then I said it out loud to my husband who was sitting on the floor of our bedroom working on some of his computer magic on our laptop.

"You should totally do a blog!" Charming replied, "I'm surprised you haven't already. I've always thought that would be your kind of thing."

"Really??" I smiled--and that was it.

I couldn't get the thought out of my head. While I brushed my teeth I started mentally composing entries. After we said our couple's prayer and I was supposed to be asleep, I was thinking about my blog. When my 4-month-old woke up at 4:00 a.m. for his feeding, I thought about my blog.

I did try to talk myself out of it. "It'll just be another thing you'll need to keep up on," I said, "You don't need another item on your to-do list." I didn't listen.

"Okay, so you do start a blog--what if it takes over your life and you don't do anything else?" I tried another approach, "Remember all your chores now that you're a homemaker? How are you going to do all that and a blog, hm?" Still, I didn't listen.

So, here I am writing my first entry on my new blog. And it feels deliciously right.