BIG

BIG NEWS . . .

[Excuse the lack of a picture, you'll understand why when you keep reading]

I can't believe I've gotten so behind, but maybe once I explain why, you'll understand.  Our big news.  Baby #2 is a going to be another little girl.  We had our ultrasound about a month ago, and caught little Emma Rose sucking her thumb, just like her big sister.  We can't wait for her arrival in 3 months!

BIG BELLY . . .

I'm not sure how accurate my own opinion is, but I feel SO MUCH bigger this pregnancy.  Maybe I am.  Maybe it's the heat of the summer.  Maybe I'm growing two placentas instead of one.  I can't say - all I know is that I feel HUGE, and I still have three months to go.  At least I'm not an elephant - or I'd be pregnant for 2 years and give birth to a 200 lb. baby.  Things could be worse.

BIG MOVE . . .

Have I mentioned that we're moving?  Yep, again.  One week from today, to be precise.  It's a long story, but the short end of it is that Dave's parents are moving to the Caribbean (poor things, right?), and they've basically asked us to house sit for them for the next couple of years.  It was a tough decision . . .

Dave's parents: Will you please move into our huge and very nice house for dirt-cheap rent?

Us:  Well . . .

Dave's parents: Did we mention that we're repainting the whole house and getting brand new wood flooring?

Us: Okay, fine.

So yeah, it's actually great timing for us, since little Emma isn't far away, and Kate really doesn't sleep well with anyone else in her room.  Tender mercies from the Lord.

Sorry I've been such a bad blogger recently.  I'll make it up to you by inviting you over to my nice big house once we get all moved in.

Mind Your Ps and Qs

So I've been thinking about writing on my blog for a long time now.  Weird thing, nothing ever shows up when I just think about it.  So I guess that resigns me to actually writing.

Do you remember when you were little and your parents used to tell you to mind your Ps and Qs?  And you always sort of wondered what Ps and Qs were?  Well, now that I'm a parent, Kate has generously enlightened me.

Kate's favorite animal sound is by far the "quack quack" of the duck.  In fact, sometimes while she's falling asleep in her crib, I'll hear her randomly say "quack quack" to herself.  I would sure love to know what goes on in that mind of hers.  Anyway, back to my point.  About a month ago I started trying to teach Kate the concept of "please" (the whole tantrum thing just wasn't working for me).  So I started saying "Say please" at least 30 times a day, and eventually it started catching on.  Except everyone once in a while I would slip and say "What do you say?" forgetting that Kate didn't actually know what word I was looking for.  Kate looked at me, and with full expectation that I would give her what she wanted if she said the magic word, she'd say, "Quack quack!"

So there you go, mystery solved.  P stands for please, and Q stands for quack quack.  I never really corrected her, because I thought it was so adorable.  But I was a little relieved when she figured out that please was the word I was asking for, because it might have been a little awkward if she was still saying that when she was five or six years old.  Funny, but awkward.

Top Ten Signs You Might Be Pregnant

Oh yes, hello.  It's me again.  Heidi.  I know we've met at least once, but I thought maybe I should reintroduce myself.  You know, since I haven't been around for 3 months!  I, of course, have lots of excuses, but I won't bore you with those.

But yes, I am pregnant . . . so here's my top ten list:

10 - You haven't done your hair or makeup in 2 weeks.

9 - Your table and counters are covered in take-out boxes.

8 - Your child could eat an entire meal by sitting under their high chair (no, really).

7 - People ask how you are feeling instead of how you are doing.

6 - You eat and crave random things like pack after pack of ramen noodles, toaster strudels, nachos, and lots and lots of toast.

5 - Unlike any other time in your life, your life is counted in weeks.

4 - You sleep 14 hours a day (whenever possible).

3 - Your library books are 2 months overdue (precisely as long as you've been pregnant).

2 - You get an email every week telling you how big your little fetus is (in terms of fruit sizes).

1 - You burst into tears, lose your temper, and fall into the depths of despair over the silliest things . . . like your husband's disagreeing with you about whether Kate has been rubbing her ears a lot recently.

Here are the answers to your commonly asked questions:

Little baby #2 is due on or around October 25.

This means I'm 10 weeks along (1/4 of the way there!) and my baby is the size of a prune.

I am not feeling nearly as miserable as last time, but still plenty miserable - especially since Kate and I have both been sick a lot (besides morning sickness).

Dave thinks it's a boy, and I tend to agree, but I don't feel as certain as I did with Kate.

Yes, I'm already getting fat.

Well, that's all for now, I'm going to slowly try and rejoin the ranks of the blogging community, so wish me luck!

Book Review: The Help

What can I say?  I love this book.  For those of you who know me well, you may think that I'm biased because of the time period in which this book is set.  I am.  I admit it freely and openly.  I love the Civil Rights era of the 1960s, but beyond that, this book is actually wonderful.

One of my favorite things about it was the character development - I absolutely loved the characters in this book, by the end, they were basically my best friends.  Yes, apparently I have fictional imaginary friends.  But they're not figments of my imagination, they are figments of Kathryn Stockett's imagination.  I loved how they grew, developed, and I loved how well I came to know them.  One of the reasons I loved these characters so much was because of their innate contradictions - just like real people.  They had depth and weren't always consistent, and were sometimes good and sometimes not.  Just like me.

Besides the fact that this is a very well written and fascinating story, I loved the ending.  Here's why: I can't stand really sad endings, and I can't stand perfectly-tied-with-a-pretty-pink-bow endings either.  That's why this book was perfect for me - the end left me . . . satisfied - a little happy, a little sad, and better for having read it.

P.S. I read this book several months ago and have been quite delinquent in this book review.

How do I know?

Here's how I know I have the coolest husband ever:

He bought me "George Washington's Rules of Civility" for Christmas!

Now, for some of you, that might rank down there right along blenders, and socks, and vacuum cleaners.

But for me?  Coolest gift ever.

Which probably makes me a nerd.

Oh well.

:)

Side note: I found Kate thumbing through it . . . maybe she thinks I'm not teaching her fast enough?

Never 21

The actual title of this post was supposed to be

Forever Never 21

but they don't let you do strikethrough in a title.  Another thing to be angry about.

Now I better just warn you that I'm still quite upset.  Maybe I should wait until this is a month behind me and I'm not so angry.  No, that wouldn't be as interesting.

Try using a quote from "Runaway Bride" to try calm me down.

"I don't blame you for being mad.  Or furious.  Irate?"

"Livid."

Deep breath Heidi.  Inhale.  Exhale.

This is me.

Let's get straight to my story . . . several weeks ago Kate and I went on a little jaunt to the mall to look for a new coat for mommy.  After trying several other stores, we headed into Forever 21, and found quite a good selection.  I tried on a few, and found a gray one in a style that I liked.  Still not sure though, I decided to buy it, take it home and get Dave's opinion, and then decide for sure.

{Dave said, "That looks just like your other coat."  Note to husbands: that is not exactly what your wife wants to hear.  But that's not the point of this post.  After wearing it for a few more minutes I decided it was too itchy around the neck anyway, and I decided to return it.}

I take the coat back, in the bag, with the receipt, and the girl is very helpful.  "Is anything wrong with the coat?" she asks in a very chipper voice.

"No," I reply, "I just decided I don't want it." 

"Great," she says, "would you like to exchange it?"  

"No thanks," I say.

"Okay, then I can give you store credit."

"No, I just want my money back."  

"Well I'm afraid we don't give cash refunds.  We only do exchanges or store credit."

"Well, I don't see anything that says that," I answer back, starting to get a little annoyed.

"It's on your receipt," she says smugly, pointing to the no cash refund policy at the bottom of my receipt in small print.

"Oh, the receipt I received after I'd already paid for the coat?"  I question, just as smugly.

"Oh, well there's a sign right here . . . well, I'm not sure where it is right now, but it's always right here on the counter."

"Well, I didn't see it." 

After this runaround continues for a few more minutes, I finally ask for the manager.  The sales rep looks relieved, and runs to grab the manager.

"Yes, how can I help you?"  The manager gives me a very condescending look as if she's dealt with people like me a hundred times.

"Yes, I want to return this coat, and I want a cash refund, not store credit."

"Well, we don't do refunds.  It says that at the bottom of the receipt."

"Oh, the receipt I received after I'd already paid for the coat?"  Sound familiar?  And then, I kid you not . . . she said - 

"Oh, well there's a sign right here . . . well, I'm not sure where it is right now, but it's always right here on the counter."

"Well obviously it isn't always right here," I say, and now I'm really getting mad.  Furious.  Let's just skip irate and go straight to livid.

She looks at the bottom of my receipt and says, "Besides, Jason ran your transaction - he's our head cashier, so I'm sure he would have mentioned it."

Did no one teach this lady that the customer is a guest?  They have a wallet?  They can choose where to spend their money?  That you actually want a customer to return?  Because I've never worked in retail, but I thought that was pretty obvious.

"Well, he didn't."

The lady wouldn't budge and insisted that since the day Forever 21 opened its doors 25 years ago they've always had a no cash-refund policy.  The cash register won't even give cash refunds, she insisted.  The encounter ended with me angrily grabbing the gift card with store credit in it for the price of the coat and leaving in a huff.  Yep, I left in a huff.  I like that phrase, and it perfectly describes how I felt.

But this was not over.  I talked to Dave about it and he called Forever 21 (he's better at intimidating people than I am).  I'm not sure how he does it, but he is very good at talking people into things, including me.  When he called in to Forever 21 headquarters, a district manager agreed to call him this past Tuesday, meet us at the store, and give us a cash refund.

No wait, this gets better.  It's now late Thursday night, practically Friday.  No call.  But we're not quitting until we get our money back.  In the meantime, I'll just rant and rave in the blogosphere.

And may I just take a moment to rant and rave about stores that don't give cash refunds?  To me that says, "We don't sell quality products" loud and clear.  In fact, because they don't sell quality products, they have no faith in their own merchandise, which is why they don't give cash refunds.  They believe that given the choice, you'll take your cash and spend it elsewhere, which is why they'll only do exchanges or give you store credit.  And they'll put that policy at the bottom of a receipt in small print, and they'll hide the signs that are supposed to be at the checkout counter.  Grrr. 

I'll keep you updated.  In the meantime, you should join with me in my boycott of Forever 21.

Mini Me

What can I say?  Kate has learned from the best.

When I brought my chocolates home, Dave sampled one, giving Kate a little taste.

Then she dumped Dad and went straight to the source (the chocolates are in those boxes).

Notice how her tongue is already out.

Also notice her cute little ruffle bum.

Here's the wonderful little contraption we received from someone in our ward:

It's an M&M dispenser.

An M&M from one side.

An M&M from the other.

I have a love/hate relationship with the fact that they only come out one at a time.

Confession: sometimes I just unscrew the lid.

But Kate, well, she wasted no time figuring it out:

If I accidentally leave it out, I often a find a very happy little munchkin with red and green drool.

P.S. I just realized I haven't posted anything about Christmas on this blog.  It's like I'm a Scrooge or something!  But I promise I really do have the Christmas spirit - head over to Everyday Families (my other blog) if you don't believe me!

P.P.S. My favorite are my nativities - please be sure to take a look - click here!

Just Call Me Lucy

You may think that looks like Lucy, but it's actually me.  No, really.  I made chocolates.  No, I didn't go to the store, buy some, and say that I made them, I actually did it!  That's my big surprise, and it's one of the reasons I've been a little MIA.

I have to admit, making chocolates has been a life-long dream for me . . . my grandma used to make them when I was young, but she got to the point where it wasn't a physical possibility for her to continue, so I never got the chance to learn from her.  So when I found out that Dave's aunt makes chocolates every year . . . to be honest, that's what sealed the deal for me (just kidding, honey - love you!).

So out of the goodness of her heart wonderful, wonderful Rachelle decided to set aside some time to not only teach me how to make chocolates, but help me.  Did I mention she has 5 kids all under the age of 12?  She's seriously superwoman.  And she makes hundreds, no closer to thousands, of them every year to give away to neighbors and take to family parties and such - and she doesn't even make excuses like December is really busy or my kids don't take naps any more.  She just does it.  Superwoman I tell ya.

Let me tell you about this adventure - not quite over yet, but I was honestly too proud to wait and tell you.

The kind I made is chocolate maple - the fondant is maple, and then it's dipped in chocolate.  Really good chocolate, but we'll get to that part.

First, you bring all the ingredients (lots of good stuff like whipping cream and sugar and such) to a boil until it reaches a certain temperature.

Before you take it off the heat, you have to test it multiples times for the "soft ball" state.  I don't really know what I'm talking about, I'm just using impressive terms so you will be impressed.  Are you impressed?  You should be.

Like so.  

Once it's reached that phase, you pour it out into a large glass pan.

Like so.

Then you let it cool completely - usually in the fridge, or outside if it's cold.

 The next part makes me tired just thinking about it.  It's called "turning" the fondant, and I dare any man who thinks he has legitimate arm muscle to try it.  Basically you just keep the fondant moving - kind of like stirring - but you have to keep it all at the center of the pan.  Keep in mind - it's still soft, so it runs, but it's just hard enough to make your arm ache.  Once your arm has started aching, you have to do it for another 20 minutes.  Rachelle makes 4-5 batches of this stuff every year (plus all the other kinds of candy/chocolate) - are you starting to see why I call her superwoman?

When you're done, it reaches the "hard ball" state -

Like so.  At this point, you add the flavoring.

By this time, you're tuckered out.  You call it a day and hold off on the dipping once you've given your arm all sorts of recovery treatments.

Now we get to the REALLY good part.

CHOCOLATE.

And when I say chocolate, I mean chocolate.  We're not messing around here.

Yes, that is TEN POUNDS of gourmet chocolate.  And yes, it is taking up the entire cutting board.

When I saw that 10 lb. block, my life seriously flashed before my eyes.  And you know what I learned?  That one of those is maybe a tenth of all the chocolate I've consumed in my life.  Probably less than a tenth.  I'm not sure if that's a good or bad thing.  No, it's good.

So then you melt that chocolate, roll the maple fondant into small balls, and dip it into the extremely delicious chocolate.  The worst part is you do it with your fingers, and they get all chocolatey, and every time you stop you have to lick them off (and then wash them, of course!).

This is what the finished product looks like:

Voila, delicious chocolates!  Handmade!  By me!

(Actually, the two above were probably Rachelle's - they look way too beautiful to be mine)

Thus far, I'm really enjoying my chocolate making experience.  I only have two disappointments.  

1) Rachelle did not slap me and slather my face in chocolate.

 

Sad, because I really would have enjoyed that.

2) I did not work on a chocolate wrapping assembly line in which I was forced to shove large quantities of chocolate in my mouth, in my hat, and down my shirt in order to keep up.

But I did sneak a few when Rachelle went and picked up her kids' carpool. :)

P.S. You are welcome to come over and watch I Love Lucy reruns with me.  Just bring some chocolate.

Just for you: