Sooooooooooo....
I went and got an ultrasound today. I would scan a picture but our scanner has been malfunctioning for the past few months. Ultrasound pictures all look the same, anyways. Especially when the baby is smaller than a grape.
But we now know that the baby is due december 3rd! So I'm 8 weeks 5 days today. Poor kid has his birthday squezzed into the Christmas month, but at least it's at the beginning. Tesla and the grape will be just under 13 months apart.
In other news, Silas and I had our 2nd anniversary on Monday the 26th. Look how cute we used to be.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Random
The other night we had this for dinner while we watched 28 Days. (Good movie. Sad, but not unbearably so.) I made the fish and rice. Smith's made the sundried tomato and basil bread. Go Smith's!
Isn't he such a sad sick baby? (He's fully better now, but I found this picture and thought I should show you how pitiful he looks.)
Nick and Elyssa left. :( They are going to Thailand to save the world. We miss them. Mucho. I don't know what Nick and Silas are going to do without each other.
However...we switched the numbers so now we have their sweet parking spot! (Don't tell Abby and Joseph! haha.) :) .....Is that against the honor code?
We got T a high chair from IKEA.
And here is what I would eat 3 meals a day, every day, for the rest of my life if I could.
GRILLED CHEESE!!!!!!!!!! MY FAVORITE MEAL!!!!!! (Made on the George Foreman! I haven't grilled actual meat on it yet...but it's a sweet panini-maker.)
The end.
Isn't he such a sad sick baby? (He's fully better now, but I found this picture and thought I should show you how pitiful he looks.)
Nick and Elyssa left. :( They are going to Thailand to save the world. We miss them. Mucho. I don't know what Nick and Silas are going to do without each other.
However...we switched the numbers so now we have their sweet parking spot! (Don't tell Abby and Joseph! haha.) :) .....Is that against the honor code?
We got T a high chair from IKEA.
And here is what I would eat 3 meals a day, every day, for the rest of my life if I could.
GRILLED CHEESE!!!!!!!!!! MY FAVORITE MEAL!!!!!! (Made on the George Foreman! I haven't grilled actual meat on it yet...but it's a sweet panini-maker.)
The end.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Names, Shakespeare!
Naming a child is a heavy task. If you pick a common name you make the child's life easier because most people will know how to spell and pronounce it. However, by picking a popular name, you also run the small risk of her having to use her last name or initial to distinguish herself from the eleven other Katies in her class. (Is that really a big deal? No.)
However, if you pick a weird name because you want to be different and the old-school charm of more "normal" names fails to thrill you, you may:
1) saddle your child with a name she hates
2) force her to have to spell/pronounce/explain her name to every single person for the rest of her life
3) embarrass her by giving her a name like Chlamydia or Wensday (true stories). Or Dweezil, Moxie Crimefighter, Fifi-Trixibelle, or I.P. Freely (true celebrity stories).
So it's up to you, really. Your child's fate rests in the pen you use to fill out the birth certificate.
Tesla has a unique/strange name. We were well aware of that when we chose it. Many people think it is a girl's name. We were prepared for that as well. When he's old enough to care, he can go by his middle name (Miles) if he prefers. I won't be offended. But while I was unsure of the name when we first picked it, I grew to love it and I'm glad we used it.
The other day, he and I had a recertification appointment at the WIC clinic. Usually what happens is this:
The nurse glances over the chart, and seeing the name, addresses us.
"If you'll just undress her down to a clean diaper and lay her on the...."
She looks up at Tesla for the first time.
"...Oh, is he a boy?"
I always laugh and nod. Some people get mad when someone mispronounces their child's name or incorrectly guesses the gender. OWN UP, PEOPLE. If you named your daughter Marcus or your son Tighrohne, people are bound to be confused. Accept it. Get over it.
So, anyway. We were waiting in the exam room when the nutritionist walked in. She glanced at the chart and said, "Tesla? My dad would be so proud!"
I was surprised. Most people don't get the reference. (Heck, I had no idea who Nikola Tesla was until Silas told me.) I told her so and she grinned.
"Nikola Tesla was my dad's hero! He was a genius." She looked over at Telsa the baby. "You are going to be brilliant!"
I was pleased with her reaction. It's not a common one.
But seriously. They even look like twins.
(NOT.)
However, if you pick a weird name because you want to be different and the old-school charm of more "normal" names fails to thrill you, you may:
1) saddle your child with a name she hates
2) force her to have to spell/pronounce/explain her name to every single person for the rest of her life
3) embarrass her by giving her a name like Chlamydia or Wensday (true stories). Or Dweezil, Moxie Crimefighter, Fifi-Trixibelle, or I.P. Freely (true celebrity stories).
So it's up to you, really. Your child's fate rests in the pen you use to fill out the birth certificate.
Tesla has a unique/strange name. We were well aware of that when we chose it. Many people think it is a girl's name. We were prepared for that as well. When he's old enough to care, he can go by his middle name (Miles) if he prefers. I won't be offended. But while I was unsure of the name when we first picked it, I grew to love it and I'm glad we used it.
The other day, he and I had a recertification appointment at the WIC clinic. Usually what happens is this:
The nurse glances over the chart, and seeing the name, addresses us.
"If you'll just undress her down to a clean diaper and lay her on the...."
She looks up at Tesla for the first time.
"...Oh, is he a boy?"
I always laugh and nod. Some people get mad when someone mispronounces their child's name or incorrectly guesses the gender. OWN UP, PEOPLE. If you named your daughter Marcus or your son Tighrohne, people are bound to be confused. Accept it. Get over it.
So, anyway. We were waiting in the exam room when the nutritionist walked in. She glanced at the chart and said, "Tesla? My dad would be so proud!"
I was surprised. Most people don't get the reference. (Heck, I had no idea who Nikola Tesla was until Silas told me.) I told her so and she grinned.
"Nikola Tesla was my dad's hero! He was a genius." She looked over at Telsa the baby. "You are going to be brilliant!"
I was pleased with her reaction. It's not a common one.
But seriously. They even look like twins.
(NOT.)
Sick Day
The littlest Klaver is sick today.
(this is a picture from last week. i think he looks homeless)
He has a fever and looks very miserable. He keeps sneezing his germs all over me. Yesterday he sneezed and it got in my eyes.
So today is going to be a movie day. It's raining outside, too. Perfect sick weather.
I will be sporting these sweet pajamas that I inherited from Nick and Elyssa.
They're my new favorite pants. I've never had pajama pants that were long enough before. I even bought men's. But these babies....awesome.
I may never wear jeans again.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Happy Birthday, Michael: A Tribute
Today my awesome youngest brother turns 15. He is one of my favorite people, and thus deserves--you guessed it--an ode.
Tribute to the Coolest Michael in the World
I was six when you were born
Fifteen years ago
You were small and blond
But best of all
You fit inside a bowl.
You're pretty rad at wrestling
And picking up the ladies
You have the guns of Mr. Universe
Remember, Michael, "the heart of the cards!"
Tribute to the Coolest Michael in the World
I was six when you were born
Fifteen years ago
You were small and blond
But best of all
You fit inside a bowl.
You're pretty rad at wrestling
And picking up the ladies
You have the guns of Mr. Universe
And the coolness of Slim Shady.
I'll never be too old
To goof around with you
Taking pictures on long road trips
And messing with Andrew.
You were born in Hawaii
A true beach boy from the start
The three of us are best friends
And Nala played a part.
Remember, Michael, "the heart of the cards!"
And watching Rave Master
"They're not broomth, they're MOPTH!"
Don't grow up any faster.
You used to eat my chapstick
Many moons ago
Remember playing at Rock Beach
In Puerto Rico?
Your flowing golden locks
Have always wooed the chicks
And now you ride a dirtbike
Don't trip on any sticks.
So on this day, April 18th
I guess it would be crude
If I didn't stop and say
Happy Birthday, dude!
-----------------------------
Friday, April 16, 2010
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Criminal Activity
A few weeks ago, I committed the highest offense known to a public safety official.
It was the worst kind of misdeed. The evil of all evils. "El diablo" of crimes.
I ran a stop sign.
(from here)
It was the worst kind of misdeed. The evil of all evils. "El diablo" of crimes.
I ran a stop sign.
(from here)
I was notified of my transgression by one of Provo's finest, who promptly pulled me over. (I have since been informed that this particular officer enjoys hiding by that particular 3-way stop in hopes of catching young felons, such as myself).
We went through the basic formalities; I apologized and asked if I was speeding. He said that I wasn't, and to my surprise, informed me that I had run a stop sign. I wasn't aware that I had trespassed so grievously, but I figured he knew what he was talking about.
He took my license back to his car and did a quick background check to make sure I wasn't a fugitive on the lam. When he returned, he handed me a piece of paper.
"You need to go to the Provo Court and talk to the clerk within two weeks. But not before next Thursday."
Court? Wouldn't it have been easier to just write me a ticket?
(Let me interject here to clear up a misconception. I was told by all of my friends in high school that crying will always get you out of a ticket. Allow me to disagree. I was very sick, I had a fever and had been running errands all day. So when I was pulled over, tears were most certainly shed. And stony hearts remained unsoftened. I still got fined. Maybe I should have flashed him an ankle.)
I was worried Silas would be upset with me. My fears were misplaced.
"You have to go to court, you have to go to court!" he teased me, elated. "Haha!"
I explained to him that I wasn't really going to court, I just had to talk to a clerk. His happiness was not to be dampened.
"You have to go to court!" he sang.
When I arrived at the Provo City Justice Court on the fated day, I was escorted through a metal detector and my purse was searched. It was just like being at the airport, only without the moving sidewalks.
I handed my form to the receptionist, who smiled and entered my information. "Do you want to go talk to the court clerk to see if you can get your fine lowered?" she asked.
I wasn't going to waste my time trying to argue about something pointless. If the officer said I ran a stop sign, then I did.
"No, thank you," I said, turning away.
"Are you sure?" she said, motioning me toward a door. "Her office is right there."
Fine. I went in.
The lady didn't glance up from her computer before asking me in a monotone voice what I wanted. I told her I'd run a stop sign.
She looked at me like I was deaf. "So what do you want?"
"Oh. Um, they said to talk to you about getting it reduced."
She took the paper from me, and handed it back. "I can knock it down $20."
I suddenly realized what was going on.
This lady was magic.
I ran home to get my utility bills and car payment.
We went through the basic formalities; I apologized and asked if I was speeding. He said that I wasn't, and to my surprise, informed me that I had run a stop sign. I wasn't aware that I had trespassed so grievously, but I figured he knew what he was talking about.
He took my license back to his car and did a quick background check to make sure I wasn't a fugitive on the lam. When he returned, he handed me a piece of paper.
"You need to go to the Provo Court and talk to the clerk within two weeks. But not before next Thursday."
Court? Wouldn't it have been easier to just write me a ticket?
(Let me interject here to clear up a misconception. I was told by all of my friends in high school that crying will always get you out of a ticket. Allow me to disagree. I was very sick, I had a fever and had been running errands all day. So when I was pulled over, tears were most certainly shed. And stony hearts remained unsoftened. I still got fined. Maybe I should have flashed him an ankle.)
I was worried Silas would be upset with me. My fears were misplaced.
"You have to go to court, you have to go to court!" he teased me, elated. "Haha!"
I explained to him that I wasn't really going to court, I just had to talk to a clerk. His happiness was not to be dampened.
"You have to go to court!" he sang.
When I arrived at the Provo City Justice Court on the fated day, I was escorted through a metal detector and my purse was searched. It was just like being at the airport, only without the moving sidewalks.
I handed my form to the receptionist, who smiled and entered my information. "Do you want to go talk to the court clerk to see if you can get your fine lowered?" she asked.
I wasn't going to waste my time trying to argue about something pointless. If the officer said I ran a stop sign, then I did.
"No, thank you," I said, turning away.
"Are you sure?" she said, motioning me toward a door. "Her office is right there."
Fine. I went in.
The lady didn't glance up from her computer before asking me in a monotone voice what I wanted. I told her I'd run a stop sign.
She looked at me like I was deaf. "So what do you want?"
"Oh. Um, they said to talk to you about getting it reduced."
She took the paper from me, and handed it back. "I can knock it down $20."
I suddenly realized what was going on.
This lady was magic.
I ran home to get my utility bills and car payment.
Monday, April 12, 2010
The Prune-stache
Tesla wanted to emulate his daddy, who was growing a March Mustache. March is, blessedly, over now. And so the mustache is gone. But not soon enough, though. Never soon enough.
(Just kidding, Silas. I love you!)
Just Tesla
Friday, April 9, 2010
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Ode to Andrew
My brother Andrew is coming to visit today!
Such a handsome little guy.
(And by "little" I mean at least 6 inches taller than I am.)
I feel that this occasion requires a special some'n some'n. More specifically, an Ode.
Now, without further ado. Ahem.
Andrew, oh Andrew, with skin so fair
You have forest green eyes and dark fluffy hair
Nearly twenty years has brought you from this
to this
And Sesame Street was our favorite show.
You have muscles, brother Andrew, like a gladiator
I'm sure you could wrestle an alligator
And have I yet mentioned your razor-sharp wit?
You're funny and clever and socially "it."
Your collection of Oakleys would put me to shame
Because my $5 sunglasses have a broken frame.
If you think I'm struggling for rhymes, it's not true
But the time has come to bid you adieu.
It's been fun, it's been real, it's been one-of-a-kind
In the lines at Disneyworld, we have some good times
If you're still reading this, you'll get a free juice
For never has such awful poetry been produced.
To sum it all up I suppose I'll just say
Andrew, you rock! Now have a nice day.
The end.
Copyright 2010. Any reproduction, transcription, or publication of this work without written permission is strictly prohibited.
Such a handsome little guy.
(And by "little" I mean at least 6 inches taller than I am.)
I feel that this occasion requires a special some'n some'n. More specifically, an Ode.
Now, without further ado. Ahem.
ODE TO MY B-ROTHER
Andrew, oh Andrew, with skin so fair
You have forest green eyes and dark fluffy hair
Nearly twenty years has brought you from this
to this
(i know this is an older picture but it's all i could find. work with me)
I must say, to know you is absolute bliss.
Your teeth are so white, shiny, and pearly
And above all else you hate to wake early.
We used to play dress-up, so long agoAnd Sesame Street was our favorite show.
You have muscles, brother Andrew, like a gladiator
I'm sure you could wrestle an alligator
And have I yet mentioned your razor-sharp wit?
You're funny and clever and socially "it."
Your collection of Oakleys would put me to shame
Because my $5 sunglasses have a broken frame.
If you think I'm struggling for rhymes, it's not true
But the time has come to bid you adieu.
It's been fun, it's been real, it's been one-of-a-kind
In the lines at Disneyworld, we have some good times
If you're still reading this, you'll get a free juice
For never has such awful poetry been produced.
To sum it all up I suppose I'll just say
Andrew, you rock! Now have a nice day.
The end.
Copyright 2010. Any reproduction, transcription, or publication of this work without written permission is strictly prohibited.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Trying
It's been a trying morning.
First, Tesla tried to get up at 5:30 this morning.
I vetoed that.
After that, he decided he was done with his morning nap after 45 minutes.
Sadly, that petition was also shot down.
Now I'm trying not to eat this for lunch.
Success is predicted to be unlikely.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
I would like to leave you with this.
May the sight of his unitard be forever seared into your memory.
First, Tesla tried to get up at 5:30 this morning.
I vetoed that.
After that, he decided he was done with his morning nap after 45 minutes.
Sadly, that petition was also shot down.
Now I'm trying not to eat this for lunch.
Success is predicted to be unlikely.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
I would like to leave you with this.
May the sight of his unitard be forever seared into your memory.
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