Pregnancy Brain

Before I was pregnant I vaguely remember hearing about "pregnancy brain."  I didn't know much about it except for that you seem to forget things a lot.

Well, I have pregnancy brain and I have it bad.

In the past month I have forgotten what I'm talking about while I'm in the middle of a sentence, forgotten to pay bills, forgotten half of my vocabulary, forgotten simple processes at work, etc., etc. etc.

My favorite episode, though, was the lunch incident at work a week or so ago.  Lunch time rolled around and I went to the break room to retrieve my sandwich from the fridge and to fill up my water bottle.  I filled up my water bottle and then remembered I left part of my lunch back at my desk.  So I walked down the hall, passing through a large group of people waiting for the elevators, and retrieved the rest of my lunch.

Lunch in hand, I headed towards the elevators so I could go eat outside.  As I walked, I remembered I needed a fork for my fruit.  So I walked back through the same group of elevator-waiters and went to the break room to get a fork.

As I grabbed the fork, I was hopeful that the people waiting for the elevator would be gone, because I felt rather ridiculous for walking back and forth past them several times like an idiot.  However, when I walked out of the break room they were all still there!  I stood with them and finally the elevator doors opened.  We all entered.

Just as the doors closed I remembered something.

My sandwich was still in the fridge.

I rode down all 23 floors with these people and then pretended to head to the bank located in our building's lobby, because I was too embarrassed to immediately turn around and go back upstairs while they all watched.  Once they all passed me, I snuck back to the elevators and rode back up to retrieve my lunch.

Fifteen minutes later I was finally enjoying my lunch and some much-needed fresh air outside.

Pregnancy brain is real.  At least, that's what I tell myself to make me feel better about my absent-mindedness of late.

Airbags and Seatbelts

If you are a facebook stalker, you know that I was in a pretty bad car accident last Thursday.  Let me just say, it was scary.  Here is how scary it was:

Yes, that is a car.  It is my car.  My very first car.  The car I own free and clear.

It has been a traumatic experience.  But I'm moving on.

So now I will answer the FAQ's:

Was the baby okay?
Yes, thank goodness.  If he wasn't, I wouldn't be writing this post.  They hooked me up to a monitor at the hospital and we heard the most beautiful sound in the world - his little heartbeat.  And then he decided he didn't really like the monitor, so he kept kicking it.  I don't think anything could have sounded better.


What type of car was that?
I know, it is unrecognizable.  It is a Toyota Corolla.

What happened?
As I explained to a friend (hi Melissa!), both cars wanted to be in the same place in the intersection at at the same time.  My car lost.  Not that the other driver's car was scratch-free.  But I think it will be reparable.  Mine...not so much.

Are you okay?
Yes, I'm doing fine.  Bruised and sore (please don't make me laugh too hard - that really hurts!) but I feel very blessed to have walked away from the accident in as good shape as I did.

Was the other driver okay?
Children, pay attention.  WEAR YOUR SEATBELT!!!  The other driver was okay, but she was more scraped up than I was.  Because she wasn't wearing a seatbelt she was thrown to the passenger-side floor.  She ended up having to get some stitches.  I've been told she's okay other than the stitches.

Did the airbags hurt?

Not when they were going off.  To be honest, I didn't know they'd gone off until after the car was still and I could smell something funny, kind of like something burning.  Then I noticed the airbags.  Every single airbag in the car deployed.  Which later explained why everyone kept asking me if I was the only one in the car.  I was frustrated that they couldn't tell by looking.  It wasn't until a few hours later that I realized the couldn't see into the car because of the side airbags in the windows.

Now afterwards, yes, I hurt from the airbags.  But I'd rather have a bruise on my chest and scrapes on my arms than my head through the windshield or my ribs broken by the steering wheel.  And now I'm no longer afraid of airbags deploying because you don't know it's happening until AFTER it happens!

Words of wisdom?
Okay, so this hasn't been a frequently asked question.  But you get my advice anyway.

Wear your seatbelt and drive a Toyota.  It may look bad, but the cab came through without much damage.

Nursery no more

The day has come.

Nate got a new calling.  Therefore, he was released from nursery.

Apparently I can't stay in nursery without Nate.  So I was released too.

I cried.

For as much as I may have complained about how our ward sticks all the young couples in primary, I really loved my babies in nursery.  I love how they loved me, too.  I'll miss their smiling faces and I'll miss singing with them.  I'll miss how they called me "Teacher" and how they tattled on each other.  I'll miss hearing the funny, cute things they say.

I'll also miss how much faster church goes when you're in nursery instead of Sunday School and Relief Society.

So I guess it is my turn to grow up.  Let's see how this goes!

That's How You Know

Last week in nursery we had a lesson on families.  As part of the lesson I asked the kids how they knew their families loved them.

I asked the first little girl, "How do you know your mom loves you?"

She looked blankly at me, not sure how to respond.  So I prodded, "Does she give you hugs?"

She nodded and said, "She hugs me."

I asked the second little girl, who has all sisters, "How do you know your sisters love you?"

She said, "They hug me."  I asked her if they played with her, too.  She said, "Yes.  They give me hugs and they play with me."

Then I turned to a little boy, who is the youngest of three boys.  "How do you know your brothers love you?"

He smiled and said, "They hursd me."  I thought I understood what he meant and it was a surprise.  But since the other kids had just repeated what had already been said, I assumed that's what he was doing too.

"You mean they give you hugs?" I said hopefully.  He shook his head.

"They hursd me."

"Oh, they play with you?"  (I don't know where I got "play" with out of "hursd" but I thought I'd give it a shot.)

Again, he shook his head.  "They hursd me."

Finally, I decided to repeat back what I was pretty sure he was saying.  "You know they love you because they hurt you?"

He grinned and nodded.  That's how you know.

An Announcement

Who:    Nate and Katie

What:   We're moving!

When:  Sometime before November

Where: TBD

Why:    We need a second bedroom.  We're going to decorate it blue.

Snakes

Yesterday Nate and I spent the afternoon at my parents' house.  While we were there, my little sister and her friends came in.

"You will never guess what disgusting thing happened to me!" she exclaimed as she walked into the room, her cohorts trailing.

"What?" we asked, thinking what she could consider disgusting.  Having been a teenage girl, I know a lot of things can be disgusting.  We weren't disappointed.

"I was in the yard and I looked down and there was a snake next to my foot."

"Was it dead?"  we asked.  No.

"Did you kill it?"  we asked.  No.

"Well, what was disgusting about it?"

She gave us a rather irritated look that we couldn't see how gross the situation was.  "It was a SNAKE!  That is what is disgusting!"

So then we all started sharing stories about our run-ins with snakes.  Who all had run over snakes with their bikes, who'd killed snakes, who'd eaten snakes.  My sister left the room more disgusted than when she came in.

A few hours later Mom, Rachel, Baby N, and I all went for a walk.  Lo and behold,  about a mile away we saw a snake.

This poor snake was lying in the road.  It had been run over by a car and it looked dead... until we saw it's little heart beating - outside of its body.  It was pitiful and sad.  So what did we do?

Mom and I took pictures and video.  Good old iPhone.  We debated putting it out of its misery, but we didn't have anything to do it with, so we left the poor creature to suffer a little longer.

In retrospect, it seems slightly cruel.  My sister Rachel did not approve of our callous treatment, taking pictures and video of a dying snake.

When we got home, I showed Nate and my dad the footage.  After all, it was pretty cool.  Dad's first question: "Did you put it out of its misery?"

I looked at him blankly.  "No.  We didn't have anything to do that with.  We were on a walk."

Nate shook his head, "Why didn't you stomp on its heart?"  I blinked and shuddered.  That would have been disgusting.

Reality Check

This morning the headline news story was, of course, about the death of Osama bin Laden.  After talking for a few minutes about his death, the news reports turned to reactions here in the States.

Apparently in D.C. hundreds of students gathered to celebrate in front of the White House.  The news reporter said, "Now, most of these students were 8, 9, 10 years old when 9/11 happened."

I was rather offended that he would say the college students were only eight to ten years old on 9/11/2001.  I was definitely older than that.

Then I remembered that I'm not a college student anymore.  And I haven't been for several years.  Oops.