The Plan (she says, irritated)

My life, currently, sucks as much as hair on soap or getting stuck behind a bad/slow/stupid driver. Or a rotten tuna sandwich.

Why, you ask? Because apparently I need a life-sustaining, soul-sucking babysitter. The Food Police are realllllly ridin’ my ass.

Breakfast? Twin Brother brings it to me, and watches me eat it. Chomp chomp yum yum.
Morning snack? Same thing. (Except the smell of Boost makes me want to up some chuck.)
Lunch: oh, Mom’s totally all over that shiz.
Afternoon snack: Brandon brings it promptly at 3:30,Grinning hopefully like a mad mad fool because he loves me and he wants meat on my bones.
Dinner – Mom: “You need to eat more.”
Evening snack: Brandon: “Here’s a Boost, honey.”

I know it’s not their fault they have to do this. (Let’s blame the T and the D.) And I know they don’t want to be the food police. I’m sure they hate it just as much as I do. Well, they probably don’t, because the silent rage that courses through me when I see them stare at me while I push crumb after crumb in my mouth cannot compare to the mild discomfort they feel. I know it. Their distress is multiplied 100 times plus my body mass index, and then doubled by all the calories I’m eating every day which then, finally, equals my distress. True story.

But if I don’t do this whole “creating inpatient in an outpatient setting,” thing, then I’ll have to actually, you know, go inpatient. AND THAT IS NOT AN OPTION NOT EVER EVER OVER MY DEAD BODY.

Apparently losing xx lbs in 2 weeks isn’t “normal,” even if I am grieving.

And dammit here I thought I was, all, like, recovered. Sorry you guys, I guess I'm not.

I miss Kendall.

July 2010

The Snowman
by Shel Silverstein

'Twas the first day of springtime,
And the snowman stood alone
As the winter snows were melting,
And the pine trees seemed to groan,
"Ah, you poor sad snowman,
You'll never see July."
Said the Snowman, "What a pity,
For I'd like to see July
Yes I'd like to see July, and please don't ask me why.
But I'd like to, yes I'd like to, oh I'd like to see July."

Chirped a Robin, just arriving,
"Seasons come and seasons go,
And the greatest ice must crumble
When its' flowers time to grow
And as one thing is beginning,
so another thing must die,
And there's never been a snowman
Who has ever seen July.
No they never see July, no matter how they try.
No they never ever, never ever, never see July."

But the snowman sniffed his carrot nose
And said, "At least I'll try,"
And be bravely smiled his frosty smile
And blinked his coal-black eye.
And there he stood and faced the sun
A blazin' from the sky--
And I really cannot tell you
If he ever saw July.
Did he ever see July? You can guess as well as I
If he ever, if he never, if he ever saw July.

Gratitude during Grief

Thanksgiving is tomorrow, and I’ll admit that this season I haven’t felt much of anything to be grateful for. I am quite consumed with my grief of losing Kendall. BUT acknowledging the goodness and the blessings in one’s life is vital, I think, for mental and spiritual health and happiness, so I’m going to take a minute and list a few of the things I am grateful for: (And seriously these are not in any particular order because if semicolons were the #1 thing I was grateful for in my entire life, I would be really, really nerdy and more mentally invalid than I even am now.)

1. Semicolons. I’m not even kidding. They are far too underused. When I see someone use a semicolon correctly, it makes me heart them that much more! Good grammar makes me almost as happy as buying some really awesome shoes at Nordy’s or looking at Jillian’s hot eyebrows.
2. Diet [Coke/Dr Pepper/Pepsi]. Because it makes my life that much more enjoyable, you know, without me, like, breaking The Plan and doing something that might send me to hell or whatever.
3. My husband. I didn’t believe in soul-mates until I met him. But our souls do some major clickage and I know I’d be some crazy homeless lady with straw wrappers in her hair and Now and Laters in her threadbare coat pocket wandering around downtown SLC not eating if he wasn’t around. I am the pea to his pod, he is the salt to my pepper, he is the peanut butter to my jelly (only really, I’d like creamy instead of crunchy, and really I prefer jam. Oh and Boysenberry if you have it.) We mesh (and mash, hee hee) really well together. I love you, My Man.
4. Cade. Now that I have lost Kendall, I’ve realized how fragile life can be, and I treasure my remaining child that much more – because I realize he is a gift from God and I don’t want to EVER take that for granted again. So I hug C more, I kiss him and tickle him and just marvel at his long eyelashes and dimple on his left cheek just a little more than before. He’s starting to get really irritated with me, and on more than one occasion has said, “Mommy STOP KISSIN’ ME!” But I can’t. And I won’t. I’m so happy this little dude was expelled from my uterus and is mine for all of time and eternity.
5. Kendall. She is my daughter. And I love her. And I can’t wait to be with her again.
6. My sisters and mom. The day Kendall died; I told my mom I didn’t want any visitors, because I wasn’t ready for them. Well they all showed up that night anyway, with gifts and hugs and tears and love, insisting to me that they weren’t VISITORS, but rather SISTERS. There really is a difference, I learned. ;) And I love all of them for their quirks and idiocies (seriously, sorry, but it's true ;) and I love the bond we have that is stronger almost than anything else in the world. I love their kids and their style and the way they’ll tell me that my skinny jeans are ugly, and how I am so brave to wear them, but really I know they’re only jealous because they don’t dare to wear them! I love all of you. Every one of you. And I am talking about sisters-in-law, too.
7. And I’m grateful for all of YOU. I would say that I don’t know, nor have I ever met, about 95% of the people who read my blog. And the support and the emails and texts and Facebook messages and love and prayers I’ve gotten from you, (friends and acquaintances included) especially now with Kendall’s death, has been staggering. I have SO MANY of you tell me how strong I am, how much you admire me, and I only shake my head and think, “Whaaa--? Why would they think I am strong?” Half the time I am complaining to you about one thing or another in my life. And I will admit to you, my fun little friends and readers, that I didn’t have much faith in this world. Because there are people who are ugly to the core, and who mean you harm, and relish in others’ pain, and the world seemed dark and hopeless and ominous. But you, readers, are giving me trust in this world again. A belief that life can be good, that strangers can love and pray and have a camaraderie with a perfect stranger without any ill intent. You bring me hope that there is more good than bad in this world. And that is a precious gift. And I thank you.

I wish you all a wonderful Thanksgiving full of hope and joy and gratitude and family.
[And you all better actually eat, dammit. ;) ]

Me Now vs. Me Before

I’m never going to complain about my burgeoning belly again. I can’t wait to get it back and kiss it and hug it and LOVE it for its immensity and beauty and what it is carrying! It’s only in hindsight that you realize what you had, and what you now miss. It is indeed truesies that HINDSIGHT IS 20/20 and damn I hate clichés, but mostly because they’re true, and usually because they come back to kick me in the arse.

NOW vs. BEFORE

Sigh.

FREEdom in Writing

I bought this journal - for me and for Kendall. And in it I am writing letters to Kendall. Sometimes I write one a day, sometimes five, and sometimes, well, I’m not in the mood to write anything.

Everything about it appealed to me: the burnt oranges and yellows and warm colors on the cover, and especially, especially, the birds. I’d like to think that a mama bird is extending a branch to her baby bird. She is extending unconditional love and nurturance to her baby. She is showing her she loves her and will always take care of her.

...And the FREE, oh wow. It could mean so many things: that Kendall is free from a life she may have had to live in suffering, or that I am on my way to freeing myself from some of this grief, or even my eating disorder.

Last night I told her that I wished she could have watched Glee with me on my tivo, because it would have made her laugh, just like her mama. And I tell her always that if she had lived, and if I had had the opportunity to raise her from infancy to childhood, and finally, to womanhood, I would have wanted her to know above all else that many things in her life would have changed; she would certainly have gone through pain and hardship, but her worth and her beauty and goodness would never have changed. I wanted her to know that life can hurt and be bad but that she doesn’t have to be reduced by it. I tell her every day, in every letter, that she is good and that she is my daughter and I love her. And then I sign it
xoxo, Mommy.

And I feel really peaceful after I write these letters.

Because I know she is getting them.

A Twi-fession

I have a confession. I am NOT a Twi-hard, but I have already seen New Moon twice.

And I plan on seeing it again on Wednesday night with all of my sisters and a couple of my brothers. Mostly because I love to sit next to my brother, T, and cackle as he repeatedly asks me when Bella and Edward are going to "bang."

But if anyone asks? I'm Team Jacob. Edward and his weasly, white, pasty little bod can go elsewhere. I'd like to wash my face on Jake's washboard stomach, now.

That is all.

And if you are upset I don't like Edward? You can go imprint yourself.
I'm so funny! Ahahaha I can't stop laughing at, my, like cleverosity.

Still at birth, but still with me forever.

Physically, I am beginning to feel better. I haven’t passed out in three days (Gooooo Brie, go-go-go Brie!) and I can actually get around a grocery store without a wheelchair. I am not taking this for granted.

However, now that I am not so preoccupied with actually physically maintaining LIFE, my body and mind have once again been focused on mourning baby Kendall. Did you know that I was far enough along that losing Kendall was not considered a miscarriage, but a stillbirth? Did you know that mourning a daughter I never got to hold in my arms or murmur lullabies to still hurts as much as if I’d known her and loved her and had the amazing opportunity to meet her?

My milk came in on Friday. It was the oddest feeling…for my body to be producing life and nourishment for a child I’ll never be able to give that to in this life. The pain of making this milk is a LITERAL reminder of losing her. My body is not yet ready, I think, to forget that I had a child, that I made a beautiful baby girl. And I’m not ready to forget, either. I never will be. She deserves to be remembered and respected for the love and the joy she gave me – even for the short time she was with me.

Did you know that being back at work today sucks? I can’t fall apart here; at work I am strong and confident and professional and not sad and not insecure and especially not “crazy.” I know people care but when people ask how I am, what the hell am I supposed to say? I’m fine? Well, I’M NOT. So I just smile a little and say “I’m feeling a bit better.” That, I think, is not a lie.

‘Cuz I will be okay. But boy I miss Kendall kicking and squirming inside me. I really miss that a lot.

Stayin' Classy

Oh, you know, just out and about procuring the necessities: Boost and MAXI PADS.

Thanks to Whit, who is an ABSOLUTE GEM for insisting on taking this picture of me in my wheelchair - clearly at one of my finest moments. Dignity is overrated, anyway. (sniff)

This is all quite reminiscent of this, yes?

11th Floor, Surgical Trauma Wing

Yesterday morning I went in to the hospital for a D&E to get Baby Kendall out of me. It was supposed to be a fairly simple, out-patient surgery. The surgery itself went well, I am told. My body post-op, however; did not do as well. [This note was attached to a bouquet for flowers Hubs brought me. It's blurry but it says
You are strong.
You make me proud.
You comfort your son.
I am proud to be Your Man.
Always remember those little secrets. They are obvious to the rest of us.]

It hates me. My body, I mean. But I don’t blame it. I’ve put it through enough. I guess I deserve it?

I bled far too much, lost way too much blood; more than is okay and normal and expected in this type of situation. This caused my kidneys to stop working which caused me to not be able to pee which caused the EIGHTEEN (yes friends, I kid you not) bags of electrolyte fluids they were pumping in me to not come out…which consequently led to a catheter, which is when the little dignity I clung to flew out the window and jumped to its death eleven floors below. It caused my blood pressure to plummet and my heart-rate to sky rocket. It caused numbness and tingling and unconsciousness. It caused me to wear these odd little contraptions on my legs to prevent clots from forming. It caused Edema and the palest pastiest WHITEST skin you've ever seen. I was lookin' HOT last night.

BLOOD IS GOOD OMG SO GOOD. I TOTALLY GET Edward Cullen now, I really do. Once the blood transfusions started, I began to feel mucho x2 muchos better!!

I was discharged from the hospital providing I do the following 5 things:
1. Eat
2. Drink
3. Pee without a catheter
4. Breathe without the extra O₂
5. Stand up and walk without help and without passing out.

I'd say 1 and 5 were hardest. But I did it. :) Seriously guys, I'm so strong, you'd totally want me on your side in a bar fight. ;)

So this is kinda like a new rock bottom, for me. Even though I have been eating great and following a mealplan, it doesn’t mean that my body is happy happy put together all over again; forgive and forget. I’ve caused long-term damage that I may have to deal with for a long time to come. :(

So I’m back home, very glad to be with sweet, grumpy, mischievous, bossy Lil C, and My Man. Back to grieving. Back to healing. And most especially back to sleeping in my own bed with my two fluffy pussy cats. Oh and haha Husband too. :)

Many thanks to family and friends and strangers alike who have gathered round and comforted me during this difficult time. You are truly buoying me and keeping me going.
xoxo

A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words

To Write Love on her Arms

Dedicated to Kendall, from Mommy and Daddy, and in honor of To Write Love on Her Arms.

Goodbye, Baby Girl

Dear Kendall,

I've never met you, but I still mourn your loss. I've never been able to hold you in my arms, whisper lullabies to you, and rock you to sleep. But I still love you with a mother's love so fierce it leaves me bewildered and out of breath.

I felt you kicking deep inside me yesterday, and I smiled to myself, and rubbed my tummy.

And today, well today, you are gone. I told Cade that you were in Heaven with Jesus and that you are very, very happy. And I believe it.

I loved you from the moment I knew you were inside me. And even though you are not anymore, I will love you and think of you every day for the rest of my life. Because you are my daughter. And I know you. And I love you.

And I believe that when I leave this life, I will join you in the next. And I will finally be able to hold you and marvel at your beautiful fingers and toes and kiss your nose and your eyelids and call you mine.

I will miss you, my darling Kendall Penny Breivik. Til we meet again, Baby Girl. Til we meet again.

Love,
Mommy

The Eternal Question

C's "Diagnosis"

Finally, finally we got some answers (and a helluva lot more questions) regarding what’s been going on health-wise with my little boy toy.

[Picture: Whit took this yesterday as we were waiting in the examining room for the doctor. Doesn’t he look so sweet in this? It melts my heart!]

Yesterday afternoon he had an appt at Primary Children’s Medical Center in the pediatric urology department. They had the results of the numerous tests he’d had done sent to them, and the plan was that they were going to explain to me the results and hopefully come up with a plan of action. His doctor was a very nice and pleasant woman who had a cute haircut but was really thin. I also saw her unders. (Buy a belt invest in a belt!) I forgave all that because the woman was patient with C and knows her urology sh*t, you know?

The good news:
C does not, in fact, have Hydronephrosis like he was previously tentatively diagnosed with. (That, my friends, is why you see a specialist and not just a pediatrician.) His kidneys, for the time being, are more or less fine.

The bad news:
He has a “Very Angry Bladder.” Dr W explained it to me like this: most people with healthy looking bladders have bladders that have smooth edges and are shaped a little like a balloon. C’s bladder is elongated and has ripples in it. [See my lovely picture to illustrate.] This is bad. Also, a child his size and age should be able to hold about 200-300 cc’s of urine. His can only hold 100 cc’s, which is, like NOTHING. We’re talking teaspoons. No wonder we can’t potty-train the tike! Don’t blame it on the parents, blame it on the bladder! Also, she said that the normal thickness for a child’s bladder is 0.5 (0.5 what? mm’s? cm’s?) but his bladder’s thickness, apparently, is 1.37.

So what does all this mean? It means that the only diagnosis I got yesterday was that he has a “Very Angry Bladder.” The plan of action is that for the next 3 months, he will be on a low-level maintenance dose of antibiotics to keep the UTI’s at bay (And that’s another thing. We still don’t know why he gets near-constant UTI’s). Also, he’ll be on a small dose of a muscle relaxant for his bladder. Dr W hypothesizes that his bladder may (hopefully) be so thick because it’s having spasms from being “angry” and, well, when we work out our muscles, don’t they get bigger? So hopefully on the muscle relaxant he’ll not be able to spasm the “anger of the bladder” and it’ll go back to its original size. In 3 months, if it has not, then she said I should worry more and additional testing will be needed.

So. That’s it. I’m thankful I have medication to help him, and hopefully the “Angry Bladder” will turn into a “Happy Normal Bladder that Desperately Wants to be Potty-Trained” soon so that all this drama with him can be over. Per doc’s orders, I am not going to worry unless I need to. In three months.

Also, I’m very grateful we can save some money now. He gets a new toy every time he goes to the doctor, and boy, is he racking the goodies up. I wish *I* got a toy every time I went to the doctor. Crap, dude, I’d be getting 3 prizes a week!!

Miso Happy

My dearest BFF lesbian leg lover Whit is paroled today from treatment! We are going to spend the day doing really fun things together like taking C to the urologist, grocery shopping, and going to the dietician. (No really true story.)

But much catching up and hugging and gossiping (but the friendly kind) will be involved. Hurray for friends busted out from ED prison!

Not Much

This weekend was pretty lame. I picked out fabrics to make a rag quilt for Baby Girl, and I ate a yummy quesadilla at Café Rio, but that about sums up the highlights of the weekend. I was feeling icky, as was C. Brandon and my mom are taking him this morning/afternoon to get another kidney test done. I’m not entirely sure what kind of mother this makes me, but I really can’t handle going through watching him be in pain again. It’s too traumatizing for me. So, at Husband’s request, I am staying home (actually going to therapy, ironically) while he and my mom go to the hospital with my little guy. I feel guilty, but this time he’ll be under sedation so he really shouldn’t remember that his mama wasn’t there. But I still feel really, really terrible.

My sister thinks I’m depressed by reading my blog entries as of late. Maybe? I don’t know. It’s not that I’m really depressed per se, I guess there’s just a lot going on, and trying to get through it and sort through it isn’t always the easiest. I am mostly just working really hard to eat my mealplan every day, (which continues to increase) and breathe (I mean this literally with my faulty lungs - getting dressed is a workout right now) and just get through one step at a time. I have indeed gained weight (yippee, right?) which is a very good step as opposed to my last pregnancy with C. By this time with him, I was down 16 lbs. I have now gained x lbs, and though I still weigh less than I did with C at this time, I really do feel that I am healthier. I’m beginning to feel Baby Girl move too, which is an indescribably sweet experience. It’s like I have my own 'lil banana swimming laps inside me. Okay that kind of sounds pedophile-ish but I mean it in a really cool, non-fruitcake way. Really I do.

Very glad my parents are home from their month long foray to Europe. It’s so sad they probably went for a nice respite and then have come home to major family drama. My sister M is very sick with Meningitis, my other sissy B has had Swine Flu, and you know I’m ALWAYS just a bundle of joy to deal with, and now C’s kidneys… :/ Let’s just say that mum's been really busy dealing with all of us! But hey, the lime green cashmere scarf she brought me home from Greece and the silk tie she brought Hubs from Italy? I’m not hatin’ ‘em. :) And Baby Girl is happy she is home too, because now she’ll get more nutritious meals rather than Taco Bell and Honey Bunches of Oats.

So this is me, today. I guess I can’t always be brilliant and/or funny, right? Kinda mediocre. Whateva.

Oh My Heart!

I don't think the excitement of having a girl has really struck until tonight when we were at Target procuring ping pong balls. I stopped in the infant's section and saw this little number and DIED. I dissolved into incoherent high-pitched "ooooooh sooooooo cuuuuuuuutes" and knew that the shopping fun has only just begun. Brandon better not DARE put me on a budget now...

Cade wanted to show it to my parents and proudly announced, "We got some pajamas fo my wittle sister. Der cute!"

Oh my heart I cannot wait until we bring Little P, B, K, or D (depending on the name we choose) home from the hospital in this. So wait you're all as excited about this as I am, right? ;)

Missing--

I miss sleeping on my stomach
and
I miss actually being able to sleep
and also
I miss seeing my husband for more than an hour or two a day
and don’t forget
I miss being able to run without struggling to get oxygen
and
I very much miss the blissful, naïve years of childhood
and
I miss having no responsibilities past feeding the dog and
washing my hair on Sunday
and
I miss being moved to tears by the beauty of a tragic ending in a book
because I miss
being able to be moved at all. I feel so jaded.
And I miss
My flat stomach
And
pre-pregnancy body
and I miss
my son allowing me to hold him and stroke his hair and kiss his eyelids
and nose.
And I miss that girl
who stood up for what she believed in
and pushed two bullies
who were
making fun of
her twin brother
when
he broke his elbow.
I miss that fiery passion
and I miss that knowledge I used to wield
knowing that
I could make a difference.
I guess what I’m
trying
to say
is that
I miss
I really really really miss
The Old Me.

Pro-Huh?

So during my sesh with W (the therapist) I was telling her that sometimes I wonder if I still have anorexia because I gots da issues, or because maybe I’ve just not eaten for so long and watched my weight, it’s more a habit and a lifestyle, and not because, you know, I’m mentally ill. She raised her eyebrows and asked if I reallllly believed that. And I said…maybe?

So she said, “So that means you’re pro-ana, right?”

What? Huh? Have you lost your candy wrapper? I'M NOT PRO-ANA!!

And then she said that she swore if my blog was pro-ana and if she found my writing on pro-ana websites, she’d kick my ass. And I laughed.

I swear I didn’t know that if I argued anorexia was a lifestyle and not a disease, that meant I was pro-ana. Huh. Apparently that’s like their whole mission statement or whatever. How did I not know this?

But do you think there is any merit at all to what I say? Don’t get me wrong – I think pro-ana websites are sick and wrong. I think giving others tips on how to lose weight quickly and drastically, yet proclaiming that they want people to stay safe and healthy, is twisted. I do not visit these sites. So therefore, I ‘spose it’s safe to assume I truly didn’t know what they really believed. Really honest I didn’t.

But sometimes, I do wonder, that even if I got over all my “issues” and loved myself ‘n stuff, would the instinct to watch my weight and restrict still be there? Truthfully I can’t imagine it not being there. And that doesn’t mean I want it there – I’d love to have those compulsions be gone gone gone far away. I’m only saying that imagining them being gone, actually not being a part of my life; seems so elusive, so ethereal. So delicious, but farfetched. Know what I mean?

So I guess that’s my question. Wait what is my question? Oh yes. Is there value to what I say? That anorexia/bulimia/other ED’s can become a knee-jerk reaction in life, almost like blinking, or do you really believe that if you could handle stress and anxiety and love yourself, the urge to engage in [insert your ED] would diminish?

Don’t call me a naysayer. I’m just wonderin’.

Girl Stuff

It’s going to be tough coming up with a girl’s name. I feel like boy’s names are easier because there seem to be less of them. But with girls do you go old-school and do something old à new again like Lucy or Molly or Sophia or do you go for the newer, more modern names, like Layla or Bailey? (And, for the record, none of those names are names we are actually considering, I’m just posting examples.) Brandon thinks it’s really funny to make up the ugliest names he can think of then ask me what I think of them with a dead-serious face. “What about Brosephina?” he asks all innocently, and I swiftly smack him to mete out the punishment he so very much deserves. Gah, the man’s going to be of no help. So if any of you have any suggestions I will be thrilled to hear them! Everyone, go! Give me your top 3 girl’s names and I will love you and blow you kisses and maybe show you my cleavage? Also, I'm hesitant to post the names we are thinking of because if people dog them then I'll feel sad. Very sad indeed. Opinions?

I’m going to go the fabric store soon and the bad-ass seamstress in me will re-emerge. She’s been hiding in the storage room next to the cat litter and mouse traps with my sewing machine. But now that I know I’m having a chica, I can’t wait to go buy fabrics in pinks and oranges and purples and browns oh my and sew beautiful patchwork quilts and blankies and bows and stuff. Oh my heart!

With my parents still gone in Europe (they come home from their month long expedition on Friday) I feel like the house has been taken over by dirty little fiends (maybe Husband and Lil C?) who mess the house up. It certainly can’t be me, so I don’t know how to explain it. And why do I not fix this? I’m such a pushover, plus, I hate cleaning. I swear, if I got kidnapped, I’d get Stockholm Syndrome in record time – after a week I’d be making my a-hole kidnappers PB&J’s and giving back rubs. So tomorrow night before they come home it’s designated Frantically Clean up the House before Mom and Dad Bust Me Day. If anyone wants to help, just gimme a shout.

Names? Go? Now!

Oh, and just cuz I love this picture, I'm going to post it. Me and my sissies Amber (middle) and Brooke (right) on Halloween. Do we looks alike?

18 Weeks

Well, it's that time again. I've decided every two weeks I'm going to post a picture of The Belly to track its, er, growth. Gettin' big, eh? And aren't we happy I'm not in that green dress again? [I do believe the belly and the boobs are tied. Who will be ahead next time?]

ps I go in for my ultrasound today. Hopefully it's still a girl, unless she mysteriously decided to grow a peenie in 4 days, in which case I will cackle and give him/her MAD props. I'll keep you updated!

That’s a V, as in, are you deaf?

No one knows how to spell or pronounce my name. It’s a real toughie. I spell it out for people on a daily basis. (It’s the darn married last name that does me in.) Yesterday was one of those days.

I was on the phone with my allergist’s receptionist, making an appointment to see him. She asked me for my name, and I said, "Brie Breivik." The inevitable pause. And then the inevitable question: “How do you spell that, Hon?”

“B-r-i-e B-r-e-i-v-i-k.”

“Wait okay so B-r-e-i B-r-i-e-b-i-k?”

“No. Switch the e and the i in the first and last name and get rid of the b and substitute that for a v.” Nervous laugh. “Like, I before E except for in Breivik…?” How is she not getting this? I try again. “Breh-Vik. Breivik!” I'm getting desperate now.

“Huh?”

“Okay. BREIVIK. B-R-E-I-V-I-K. V. As in Vermont. Virginia. Victor. Visectomy. Voyeur. Vagina.”

Laughs. “Okay, thanks Ms. BreiBik, we have you scheduled for the 25th!”

Gah. How irriBating.

I mean irritating.

Halloween Happenings

I haven't taken any family pictures since August. That kind of makes me a bad person, I think, so to make up for that I took dozens of pictures of our Halloween festivities. I'm posting about 25 (I know I'm sorry) on this post so feel free to scan quickly!

In the afternoon we went to Great Grandpa and Grandma Sudweeks house for a Halloween party. We dined on a salad bar and homemade chili and veggie soup and played lots of fun games. Here's C with his little cousin, Blake. They're sizing each other up...

Cade with his two little witch cousins, E and K.

I think I am a line-backer. What's with the head to shoulder ratio going on? Eek. (Husband is so cute!)

Playing choo-choos with B. He actually shared a train with him. I nearly cried.

We had to bribe him to put on his Thomas the Train costume. You think I'm kidding? We went straight to Walmart afterward and bought him a new train. As you can see, he was less than pleased in his get-up (but he eventually warmed up to it).

He got really excited when he saw that B was being Thomas, too. Adorable, isn't it

I kept trying to get a decent pic of the two but B would not hold still...

Um, yeah. I freaking won the count the tootsie roll contest or whatever! (I guessed 74. There were 77. I like never win anything so we were thrilled!)

First house going trick or treating that night...

I had to take this adorable candid photo of my nieces. M is in the garish dress with the purple bow, and A is in the indian costume. I heart them.

My sissies Brookie and Am and C and his other cousing B running to the next house.

Mama got tired of walking so I'd half-heartedly stay at the end of the driveway while Daddy took C up to get his candy. If someone didn't go with him, he'd go up there, say trick or treat, stand there for a minute, then walk away without getting candy. He's working on the logistics.

C got tired and began whining for someone to hold him. Poor guy!

My sweet lil pumpkin niece B. Oh my heart!

After we had trick or treated with my side of the famiy, Husband and I drove over to his in-laws and we went with his dad and his sister Emily and her hubby Craig and their two kids, B and B. It was fun to meet up with both sides of the fam. Two cute little Thomas'...

Those are my cute boots. (And C too, I guess :)

I didn't actually decide to dress as a hoodlum for Halloween, I'm just wearing Husband's coat. My coats are all dressy and look weird with my prego-ness so I decided to go baggy and comfy.

I had to get a shot with the little pumpkin!

C so happy!

Finally, finally we came home. Daddy and C inspecting the loot.

Yeah, I wanted to get in on the action too!

I'm not even kidding I think he ate at least 12 packs of Kit Kats. He's already out.

And then, for fun, I thought I'd post this pic of me and C last year on Halloween. He pretty much disliked it this year as much as last year, but we're making progress!

And after it was over, I was TIIIIIIIIIRREEEED. I made some hot cocoa and passed out at like 9 pm (shutup it seriously felt like 3 am or something!)

Hope you all had a lovely and very spooky Halloween too!