We took a leap of faith and headed to the Outer Banks this past week to have a fun vacation with some of our fellow law school families. We decided that sick or not, we were going to have fun. And we did. Mostly.
Our trip began with the usual festivities: get almost out of town before Little gets car sick, forcing us to head right back home to unload, clean, and reload the car before we can recommence our journey. This time we had the added bonus of me being preggo sick, making it almost impossible for me to help with the clean up. I'm married to a saint.
However, despite our bad beginning we had hope. We did fantastically well for the rest of the drive down with only a few minor mishaps and some seriously awesome sleep positions.

The first day was beautiful, although a little cold, so we all went down to put our feet in the water. Bryce was the only one crazy enough to jump all the way in, but Little loved it. He is still talking about the ocean and Daddy jumping in.
Each night we came together for meals and after the kids went to bed there were usually games until all hours of the night, which was definitely one of most fun parts of the trip.
Enter... colds. We all came down with a bit of a cold, but didn't think anything of it because it was in and out in a day. Little was a little worse for wear as he has a very sensitive gag reflex and therefore lost his stomach to more than one cough, but other than one interrupted night, we were on our way to keeping our goal of a fun vacation.

It was stormy for the next few days so we went to try to find some of the famed wild horses that apparently roam the area down there. We never did see any, but Little was quite excited about the horse statues all over town. We also walked around the town and visited the Wright Brothers Monument at Kill Devil Hill, which was a blast. Kill Devil Hill is appropriately named, it turns out, since that's where the real trouble began.

Little started complaining about his ear hurting, but we figured it was because the wind so we whisked him home. He woke up on and off all night with a fever, but it wasn't until early early in the morning that we finally started searching for the local Urgent Care because Little looked at us and said, "Ouchy ear" in the most pitiful voice imaginable. As fate would have it, the Urgent Care wasn't open until 7:30 so we got to see what seemed like the whole of the Outer Banks area in the dark of night as we drove around to help Everett sleep.
There were an unfathomable number foxes on that drive, not to mention insects. We thought it was raining at first, but it turns out it was just all the poor innocent creatures we were annihilating. Oh dear.
Then we crossed the Oregon Inlet Bridge, where I had a full-blown, need-a-paper-bag panic attack. I blame low visibility for making the bridge seem ridiculous, the fetus for my emotional state being ridiculous, and no sleep for making it a million times more ridiculous. I normally have a slight fear of bridges, but only so much that it makes me want to remove my vehicle from them as swiftly as possible, so this took that fear to a whole nuva level. We laughed about it after it was over, but at the time it was not fun for either of us.

On the Little front, once we got him into the doctor and some good medication in his system, he and I spent almost the entire day sleeping off the ordeal. Earlier, we had joked with some of the families who were with us on the trip that we were planning on staying the entire week barring any other disasters happening. It didn't turn out to be a joke.
We spent a low key day and managed to see one of the local lighthouses, which was very fun. Other than that we decided just to take it easy. And then... Little's ear drum burst. Not fun. He didn't sleep. Bryce didn't sleep. I didn't sleep, but that was because Its Highness decided that we should get all-night party going on in the bathroom. Needless to say, that did it. As soon as it was light enough, we packed up our things and headed out.
We picked up some more medicine for Little and since it had been over 30 hours since I had managed to hold anything down, we finally had to give in and pick up some anti-nausea medication for me as well. I'm not happy about it, but I'm also very grateful for modern medicine.

We finally made it home and slept for the rest of the weekend until Sunday when I started having contractions in the middle of nursery. Seriously. Contractions. But after a few panicked calls to my sisters and the doctor, we affirmed that it is probably dehydration from our OBX ordeal, so all in all we should be intact after things finally calm down.

So it was a bit of an interesting trip, but we did manage to have fun and we've decided that we definitely need to go back some day.
I have also determined that next time we decide to have a baby I am going into hibernation for nine months.

Little has been a trooper through all of this too. He is very conscious of my needs and in his mind it is a cardinal sin even on my good days not to have a "gooka bucket"--as he calls any of my many emergency buckets I keep throughout the house--near me at all times. He's also taken to comforting me when I am in the throes of baby sickness, only I use the term "comforting" very loosely. Basically, I end up over a bucket and he ends up crawling up my back and holding on like a monkey (choking optional) or riding the "mommy horsey" until I am done with the "gookas." A bit uncomfortable, but it makes me want to laugh more than cry, so I'm counting it as a win.
Little prays for the baby every night (he can almost say a prayer all by himself now, which we are so so proud of him for) and rubs my tummy with a "Hi, baby!" and the occasional kiss thrown in. I'm excited to see him when the baby actually comes. He's going to be a great big brother. We had a conversation the other day about the baby being safe in my tummy (he was afraid the baby was going to fall out) and he has decided--no matter how many times I tell him different--that the baby must be in a carseat inside of my tummy.
I've started feeling little flutterings down there, but the first time I felt the baby it was a bigger movement and it about scared me to death. I forgot what it feels like and I was leaning over when it happened so it made me yelp. I'm pretty sure Bryce thought I was crazy for a moment, but we laughed about it later.
So the point of all this is to say that we are still alive and kicking (for the most part).

...We have an announcement. 
If I didn't already believe in my Heavenly Father's guiding hand, these past few months would have confirmed to me without a doubt that He is watchful of me and has a plan for me, my life, and my family. 
We are welcoming into this world a new little one--hence forth to be known as "Blueberry"*--and we are so excited. Not only is it going to be an adventure, but it is a miracle. And not just your average miracle of childbirth stuff. I am talking no-way-on-earth-this-baby-could've-come-to-our-family-without-divine-mandate.
Between internships, finals that last for two months or longer, insurance issues, and all the other fun things, it has been well-nigh impossible for us to have a baby during law school. And not just improbable, I mean impossible. Add to those fun facts that this summer has been one full of every physical ailment short of scurvy (at one point I told Bryce that we had to stop joking about what kind of illnesses Little and I could add to our already rapidly accumulating pile of germs, because apparently thinking about it is enough for us to contract it) and Bryce being MIA for his internship, and you certainly do not have a recipe for a baby. And yet, miracle of miracles, a little plus sign showed up on a test a couple of months ago.
It has already been a much rougher pregnancy than the first, mostly because I have been sick beyond belief, but Bryce and Little have been heroes and kept the house functioning and me laughing while I've been down-and-out.
One day I walked into the kitchen to thank Bryce for doing the dishes for the millionth time. The conversation went something like this: 
   Me: "Thanks so much for doing all the work around here!"
   Bryce: "Is this what you normally do everyday?"
   Me: "Eh, more or less."
   Bryce: "Your life sucks!"
I had a good laugh about that one. When he's being serious he makes sure I know that he would gladly do the house work rather than trade me places at the moment. 
Little has also been a champ at making me feel better. Sometimes he will go fetch Bryce if he thinks I need some extra snuggles, but most of the time Bryce isn't allowed near me because Little has decided it is his job and his alone to help me when I'm sick. I seriously could not ask for a sweeter child. 

I'll say this much: It is certainly going to be an adventure. A crazy, all-new adventure. Welcome, welcome Blueberry! We're excited to meet you. 



*We're calling it "Blueberry" because when it was blueberry-sized and wreaking havoc on my system, I asked Bryce what a blueberry said and he responded with "Blargh!" Since that is what our dear little fetus has continued to say without ceasing, the nickname is sticking.

This was us 4 years ago. Can you believe it? I guess more accurately, this portrays the importance/joyful feeling inside on the day. This is how we actually looked most of the day:

Man Alive! That was an exhausting day! Some days it seems like it was yesterday and others it feels like it was a lifetime ago. Every day I find new reasons to thank my Heavenly Father for practically throwing this wonderful man into my life and for loving me enough to bless me with nothing I was looking for and everything I needed and wanted. 
Life with Bryce so far has one big adventure--sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse--and I wouldn't trade it for anything. What we can't laugh through, we cry through and brush ourselves off to come out better on the other side. I am truly blessed to have such an amazing man to balance me and love me through all of it. 

We were on a drive a bit ago and started planning our mid-life crisis; traveling, school teaching, beach sitting, etc. And yes, I acknowledge that one may or may not happen and the planning thereof would make it null and void as a crisis, but it made me realize a few things.
First of all, let's be honest... if one or the other of us does indeed have a legitimate crisis, it is more than likely going to be me and Bryce will be along for the ride. However, the important part of that is that he will indeed come along with me. I will never truly have a crisis in my life because I am married to a perfect-for-me man who takes whatever my latest obsession/fiasco is and doesn't try to change it or fix it (most of the time =), but knows me well enough to roll with it until I am ready to fix it and then steps in to help with whatever I need. It is a standing joke between us that even before we got married, he knew what I needed before I had an inkling of it, but waited to say so until I did. Ex: the L-word conversation. 
   ME: "I... ummm... well... I love you."
   BRYCE: "I know."
I kid you not. That is exactly how it went. Bryce had said it months previous, but made sure to mention it casually enough and move on with the conversation quickly enough that there was no pressure on me to say it back, or say anything about it. I--not realizing that I was already in love with him--didn't have to talk about it or face the facts until much later when I had thought it out, pondered all the ins and outs, and come to the very evident conclusion that I did indeed love him too. Then when it came to actually saying the words, I stressed and stressed about telling him and about my terrible timing, only to have him say, "I know." 
He does that all the time. Seriously, all the time. I come to some grand conclusion about a thing that has been constantly on my mind for who knows how long, only to find that he already knew what conclusion I would come to and has been allowing me to puzzle it out knowing that is the only way I will truly be satisfied with the answer. It would be annoying, but due to the fact that he is always right (yes, Honey, you are allowed to revel in that) and I can honestly say it has never been a bad move, I've come to appreciate it more than I can say. 

Not only does he know how my crazy mind works, but he is willing to go with it. I say, "Hey, Wonderful... I think I want to be an astronaut." and he says, "I'll check online for cheap space suits." He'd probably take a minute to consider and talk some sense into me or come up with alternatives, but if I was really sold on the idea he would do his best to figure out the most logical way to go about doing it and point out all the holes in my plan until we had a working one.

On top of that, he does it with whatever level of excitement it requires. This is a pretty common conversation in our house...
   ME: "Look at the shirt I made."
   BRYCE: "Cool."
   ME: "No, no. You're supposed to be way more excited than that."
   BRYCE: "Oh, I mean, WOW! That is the most amazingly awesome shirt I have ever seen!" (There is usually some jumping around at this point to emphasize the excitement).
And yes, it usually starts jokingly, but in the end if I am super excited about something, he is too. If it is a big deal to me, it is a big deal to him. That goes for the positive as well as the negative. Granted, the negative comes with significantly more let's-talk-this-through-before-we-make-it-a-big-deal, but in the end it's the same principle. He not only makes me feel important, he genuinely makes me important. 

In essence, whatever life has in store for us from this point forward is just fine with me because I have the bestest-man-in-the-wide-world by my side through it. Mid-life-non-crisis with Bryce is looking pretty good from here; and if we/I ever do have an actual mid-life crisis, Bryce will be right there crisising with me (or keeping it from being a crisis). He will be with me through all the crazy twists and turns our life takes to ground me and help me through and be the amazing man that he is. 

PS: I have to apologize for all the strange highlighting lately. I'll have to figure out why it is doing that. 

We headed out to California this past weekend to surprise my Grandma and Grandpa with a visit from all of us sisters. It was a blast! Not to mention the first time we'd all been together in 4 years. Crazy. We all decided that 4 years is way too long not to see all your sisters. Grandma and Grandpa were more surprised than I've ever seen them when we all showed up. They knew my dad was coming for a visit and that there was some surprise, but all eight of us on their doorstep was something I'm guessing they never imagined. We flew/drove in from all over so that we could all be there for the big moment, and even though we were only able to be there for a few days all together, it was definitely worth the trip and something we'll never forget.

We did all sorts of great things, not the least of which was eating at our favorite restaurant. I am pretty sure with the exception of the hanging parrots that used to cover the ceiling, it has barely changed at all since we lived there when I was a kid.

It all started one morning when I woke up to Little screeching at the top of his lungs. I of course jumped out of bed to see if he was indeed dying and found him yet again stuck inside his bed. He for some reason enjoys sleeping with his legs squeezed in between the slats of his bed and no matter how much I try to discourage it, he always does it. And he always gets stuck. This time however, was a whole different category of stuck. I pulled out all the tricks in my arsenal: butter, oil, vasoline.... to no avail. He had twisted it around so much that his knee was swollen and bruised and there was no way it was coming out. Meanwhile, my child is still screaming non-stop like the world is ending and I shudder to think what the neighbors thought was going on. Finally, I got out the screwdriver to loosen the railing enough to pry him out, at least that is what I thought. In reality, I ended up having to spend the morning taking apart the entire bed just to get his poor little leg out. 
After we were done and his leg was fully extricated, I looked at the demolished bed and thought, "Might as well finish the job." And thus our Little is now out of a crib and into a toddler bed, whether he/I was ready for it or not. 
In all honesty, it took a few days for it to be official because the instructions on the thing were so complicated that I had to wait for Bryce to put it together properly, but after having it fall on top of me a couple of times so that my bruises rivaled Little's, I was done. Little slept with me for a few nights until Bryce made it home to fix it. I think my message to him that afternoon when something like this: 
  "Ummm...  Honey, I may or may not have killed Little's bed... but at 
  least he isn't inside of it anymore."

Little did his best to help, and this time he really was helpful. He held tools and kept track of all the screws. (Please to be noting the "entreprenuer" shirt of Bryce's that we remade into pjs for Little. I was dying laughing that he just so happened to be wearing those while helping me with the impossible bed.) I'm not sure that he will be staying in a big boy bed as getting a knock on my door at 11:30 pm, or 5:30 am is not always my favorite thing, but we'll see. 

I found a little sticky note sitting in my scriptures and I laughed out loud remembering. I was called to work in nursery a while back and one day during coloring time, the kids started having a conversation about Heavenly Father and what good things He wanted them to do. There were plenty of little nuggets of wisdom shared, but the best were easily these two:
"Heavenly Father said we should color when we camp."
and
"Heavenly Father said we should not eat other people."
Try responding to that with a straight face. Seriously. 


In other nursery news... Little refers to most kids his age as "baby friends," so it is fairly common for us to bribe him to church with promises of getting to play with his "baby friends." However, the other Sunday, he woke up asking to see his "mommy friend." It took us a bit to figure out who exactly that was, but when the dots were all connected we found out that he was talking about his nursery teacher.
I am so glad that he loves nursery so much, and church things in general. He loves scripture time, he is usually the one to remind me to pray before we eat meals, and he is so so good about prayers in general.

Our nighttime prayers have become quite an event lately because everyone must be included. Pirates, animals, monsters, you name it... Everything in sight is gathered around. After Little gathers them together, he is very meticulous about their positions and makes sure that everyone is sitting up and facing forward--which is sometimes problematic for the tiny stuffed animals who don't sit up well, but he solves that by putting them either in my lap or his own--and once everyone is situated properly (this can take up to 10 minutes), he tells them all "fold arms everyone!" and then I know we're good to start saying prayers. 

The best part of praying with Little though is that he will sometimes say the prayers along with me. You can barely hear him, but as I am saying the words, he whisper-mumbles along with me in his sing-song voice. I am almost positive that there is nothing more adorable in this world.