THIS is the epic blog post you've been waiting for.

Sorry it didn't come yesterday like I planned. There were unforeseen obstacles to my ability to blog (like a complete lack of motivation to do anything productive).

And now . . . HERE COME THE UPDATES AND PICTURES!!! WOOOHOOO!!!!

First, please direct your attention immediately to the right of this post. Notice that big 'ole button that says "I'm a Mormon"? Well, that's a link to my mormon.org profile. Mike and I finally managed to make them (we did it for our FHE activity this week). I figured, if they're talking about it in General Conference and there's a full-on insert in the Ensign, they're probably serious.

Next, about this whole baby business. As of a week ago Tuesday (meaning December 14), I was 1cm dilated and 50% effaced. And that week, baby was still measuring long. This week, (December 21), I don't know how dilated I am, but baby has slowed down and is now "average-sized." I still have heartburn, sore muscles, hips that hate me a lot, sometimes nausea, dizziness, and Braxton-Hicks . . . but no Katie yet. I'll be 38 weeks on Sunday. For twins, that's the due date. But for just one baby . . . I have to keep waiting. Grr.

Yesterday morning, Mike was reading his book (I think he's on The Two Towers now) and looked up and said "I fully expect you to go into labor later today." When I asked him why, he said, "because you're nesting like crazy." It seems that without even thinking about it, I had cleaned off the table, organized Katie's room, cleaned our bedroom, remade the bed, put away all the dishes, folded Katie clothes and cleaned off her changing table, swept the kitchen, and vacuumed the whole house. Rather. So maybe I was sort of kidding about being unproductive.

Now, to some pictures. I caved: here's one of the two of us. I just realized we hadn't had a picture together in like ninety years. Because it's always just us without a photographer. So most of my pictures are . . . Mike. But here's us.

This crib bedding is what my mom gave me. I think it's the same stuff all of my siblings used. It also came with a lamp, but we have that up on the shelf. (I don't think babies like to sleep with lamps. That's why we left the giraffe and the Peter Rabbit books instead. Much more cuddly. Or . . . entertaining? I don't think books are cuddly either . . . I think we need to rethink our plan.)

This bassinet we also inherited from my mom. I love the pretty eyelet cover. Note: this bassinet has since moved from Katie's room into its designated place in our room, in an effort to encourage the little stinker to get born. The carseat has also been strapped into the car. Now if only she'd get the hint . . .

Along with all the big stuff, my mom also gave me a bin full of little girl clothes (some of which, yes, I myself did wear). Oh my goodness, all the frilly dresses made me giggle so hard my face hurt. We took them home and washed them all and Mike was a good sport helping me put them all away. Note: being an awesome dad and appreciating cute baby clothes does not in any way decrease man points. If anything, it enhances them. (He worried about me putting this picture up.)

This is me and some friends from the awesome baby shower that Sara (furthest right) threw for me at her house. The picture turned out a little blurry, but still good. They're holding up twine from the "guess how big around Brittany's belly is" game. I think it should be mentioned that they let me cut a piece without cheating at all, and I got it exactly. Like, exactly. No gaps and no extra. Everybody else cut off the extra from theirs to compare, but I had none. Because I guessed exactly right. Who wins the spatial reasoning award now, huh?

This one is less blurry, but includes the winner of the aforementioned belly competition. Jackie is second from left and only had, like, a 1cm remnant. It was super close. And she was winner because apparently the pregnant lady herself cannot win.

This picture is included because I think baby shoes are only the cutest thing that ever happened. The saddle shoes I got from my mom (again, I think I wore them), but the red ones I got at my shower. Oh! and the burp clothes my mom made. She said the BYU one is for Mike, so he can still look manly while burping a frilly little girl baby.

Can you tell we just really want Katie to get born? I have . . . (cough cough) I mean SANTA has . . . some cute little stocking stuffers, but she's not here yet, so I'll have to open her presents for her. Seriously. Come out, kid. I'm getting rather impatient. And my back hurts. That's a sure sign that you're supposed to get born soon.

You know, Mike and I thought Christmas would be weird just staying here with the two of us, but so far it's been really fun. We had yesterday (the 23rd) off and just did almost nothing, except nest. Then, in the afternoon, I got all baking happy. So far there are two kinds of cookies, and tomorrow after Christmas, there will be more cookies and pumpkin pies. I'm feeling all domestic.

Our Christmas eve itinerary: wake up after 10, eat leftover pancakes while watching It's a Wonderful Life (crying may ensue), take a shower, vote to get back into pajamas rather than get dressed, play some riveting games of Uno (I won, by the way), eat macaroni and cheese, take a nap, read some fun books, blog, watch Santa Claus is Coming to Town, read the Christmas story from Luke 2, then maybe another game or something before going to bed (where we won't sleep because we're all acting like little kids today). No, seriously. We both have been so excited about the presents we got each other that we're all super excited about Christmas. It's gonna be great.

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYBODY!!!!

COMING THIS THURSDAY!!!

A totally epic blog post for Christmas. You should be excited.

Also, it has been snowing big, heavy snowflakes since before I woke up this morning (and I woke up early because work starts at 8). Blech. Heaven help anybody who waited until today to leave Provo.

Maybe I should take some pictures of myself now that I'm so pregnant people actually gasp when they see me. That would be cool.

A few small notes

Some may have noticed that I very conspicuously didn't say anything about Thanksgiving break in my last posts. Just know that the ride there was very traumatic and I almost went into labor, Aunt Annie called my baby Katie Lou (which I have secretly wanted to do for a long time so this kind of gives me affirmation), food was delicious, I actually slept in a bit, and the ride home was LOOOOOOOOOONG. Oh, and the break wasn't nearly long enough. That's it.

In other news, last night when I went to run some errands, I passed a mom and two little blond boys, and the boys' names were Talmage and Kimball. I can understand wanting your kids to have good role models as their namesakes, but really? Couldn't they be James and Spencer and it would be just as good? Only in Utah. Seriously.

I really don't feel like doing anything at all today. Like moving. Or keeping my eyes open. I told Mike that and he said "You're growing a Katie. I think that counts as a lot." I hope so, because otherwise I'm a total lazy slob who never cooks and who hates walking. But it's a life, I guess.

When I pull the skin tighter around my belly button, it kind of puckers and forms a little mound thing.

But it hasn't popped out yet! Seriously, the one thing I was actually looking forward to about being pregnant, and no such luck. I'm 34 1/2 weeks, and I still have an inny belly button. I feel so cheated.

I do have really crazy stretch marks, though. Seriously, my belly looks like an eyeball: pasty white, with a bunch of ugly red streaks coming out from the middle (so my inny belly button is the iris?). At my last doctor's appointment, when I pulled my shirt up so he could measure me, he was like "whoa, do these itch a lot?" I said "um, yeah, like crazy." And he was like, "whoa, I'm glad you haven't made yourself bleed! Get some 1% hydrocortisone on that business!" (Note: this may or may not be a direct quotation of our conversation. You can decide.)

Mike's doing Organic Chemistry homework. Which means I'm really bored. I do have to finish my paper for Pearl of Great Price, but I don't get a thrill from writing religion papers like I do writing other kinds of papers. Maybe this is a good thing, but religion papers are just way too easy. When I'm writing about Hansberry and the Black Arts Movement of the '60's, I feel like I'm trying to fit my brain through that strainer mold thing my mom has for playdough, but in a good way. When I'm writing about Enoch, it just feels kind of like, well, like "duh." I know this stuff. Please don't think I'm being sacrilegious. I just don't have to work really hard to know what to say about spiritual stuff.

And maybe I don't care about my grades nearly as much as when I was still looking at more school. I'm a little bit done. Even if I kept my grades up (which I probably will anyways, Dad, so don't freak out) I'm only taking three credits (one class) next semester, which means they wouldn't give me my scholarship anyway. Therefore, I will do the work without stressing myself into labor, and my professors will probably never see me again. Sound fair? I think so.

I have a friend who is twenty-something weeks pregnant with twin boys, and whose experience seems to be extremely compounded compared to mine. Every time I want to whine about how hard it is to waddle about campus and not be able to put on my own boots and have heartburn all the time, I go read Becky's blog. It makes me grateful that I'm having one little Katie and not two little boys.

Not that there's anything wrong with boys. It's just that two of them at once would probably kill me. (Do you hear that, Grandma Blair? You're superwoman.)

I should probably actually work on my paper a little bit, since I suspect that's what Mike thinks I'm already doing. He'll discover this blog post tomorrow and be like "Brittany! You were supposed to be doing homework!" And I'll either bat my eyelashes at him or stick out both my preggo belly and my lower lip. Either works.

Oh, and his making-aspirin lab write-up is done, so I gotta go. Peace out.

To My Adoring Fans :)

#1- I never imagined I would get such an overwhelming response to my comment about Mike and my mom. That was kinda funny and really self-esteem boosting. Thanks guys. :D

#2- Is it Wednesday yet? (When I finally finish work for the week and we drive to Thanksgiving)

#3- We may have secretly gone out and bought a stroller/car seat thingy one night last week instead of being responsible and doing homework. It's really cute though. And Mike got all manly to build it. Not to mention super overprotective-new-dad on me. ("You read all the reviews? This is the safest one?") One of these days I'll take pictures of Katie's room and put them up here.

#4- Is it January yet?

No Diabetes For You!, or, How I Became a Raving Lunatic

That's right. Raving. Lunatic. You get what I'm saying. It mostly has to do with the fact that my moods are like souffle--I pop anytime, at any stimulus. Mike is the most patient man in the world.

In other news, yesterday was a fantastic day. I'm going to tell you why. And it might end up being a long blog post, so I apologize if you're tired of my writing.

The first reason involves rather a long story. Once upon a time, doctors were really mean and made me take all kinds of yucky glucose tests. I took the routine one first, in which I come in fasting in the morning, they make me drink the flat Seven-Up, and I come back an hour later for a blood test. The next day, I received a frantic phone call from the nurses at my doctor's office saying "Holy bananas your levels were high! We're going to torture more results out of you!" I am not ashamed to say that I had a TOTAL freak out at this. I have ALWAYS been afraid of diabetes. I like food too much.

Thus, I had to take the second glucose test, in which I come in after fasting for 12 hours (not fun for pregnant ladies), get my blood taken, drink the nasty stuff that they say tastes like flat Orange Crush (but really tastes like children's Motrin), and come back every hour three more times to get my blood taken. Summary: fasting for 15 hours + having blood taken 4 times = NOT HAPPY PREGNANT LADY. I was cranky forever. And I missed my religion class because I was so weak and shaky I couldn't get off the couch after I got home the last time.

Anyways, that test was on a Thursday. I had a doctor's appointment the following Tuesday. Well, I say doctor's appointment, but it wasn't really. My doctor was out of town during my scheduled week to need an appointment, so I really saw the nurse practitioner. She's very nice, and I'm sure she knows what she's doing most of the time, but I like my doctor better. He's much more awesome. But I had to see her, and she had my results from the glucose test. She told me that my levels were high, gave me all kinds of scary information about horrible things that could happen to my baby, and sent me to the diabetes clinic at the hospital next door. This was not a good day.

I played phone tag with the diabetes clinic FOREVER, so it was another week before I got there. Then, I had to sit through an hour and a half of this dietician (not a doctor, mind you) who repeated herself at least four thousand times, and spent the first 40 minutes or so telling me all the horrible things that happen to babies of diabetic mothers, and was like "You're going to be miserable forever because having diabetes will hurt your baby lots and you're both going to get Type II diabetes in a few years. Buaha." Then she dictated how many carbohydrates I was allowed to eat each hour, gave me a blood glucose meter, and told me to prick myself six times a day: before and after each meal, which means I could only eat every two hours.

Signs that made me NOT believe her AT ALL: I followed her diet plan. I even cheated most of the time, eating a few extra carbs at each meal and snack, and not eating for two hours between each thing. Result: I was constantly weak and dizzy. I had headaches every day at work and wobbled walking home from school. I stopped any healthy feelings I had been having previous to this instruction. I fell asleep all the time in class. Also, the meals when I cheated the most (like, 15 or 20 extra grams of carbs), my reading was not even close to the high end of normal. I spent most of my time in the 70s, which I don't suspect is healthy for anybody, but REALLY not healthy for someone who's growing a whole nother person. I got a little bit angry with her.

But I did promise to follow the rules until my next appointment, which was a week after visiting the clinic. This was yesterday, and my real doctor was back. I guess nobody filled him in with what happened while he was gone, because he was like, "Oh, we got your glucose results, and you just barely passed, so we're not going to send you to a diabetes counsellor." When I told him we'd already gone, he was like, "who sent you there?" It made me happy. He told me that I am NOT diabetic, I don't have to prick my finger AT ALL anymore, and that the nurse practitioner overreacted to my results. I guess one or two of them were slightly abnormal, but it just means I need to still be careful. But NOT starve myself.

I was so happy I almost cried. I did start laughing maniacally after leaving the office. Mike thought I was crazy.

The second reason yesterday was such a good day is slightly less consequential, but just as important to me right now. It also contains a story, but not a long one. Last week in my fiction editing class (the same day I was tortured by the crazy dietician), as I stood up from my desk, the seat of my jeans caught on a piece of metal and ripped a giant gash across the bum. I didn't make a scene, and it was okay because my coat covered it until I could get home, but still. One thing on top of another, right?

But anyways, because wearing dresses in the winter in Utah is never fun, we decided I would need some new preggy-lady jeans. Monday night we started some pizza dough rising, ran off to Penney's, and found some really cute ones on sale. They are skinny jeans, which I've never owned before in my life, but I've discovered the appeal. Mike says they're flattering (and sometimes I believe him) and they make my legs look less swollen (which they extremely are every single day). AND I feel all trendy, which doesn't happen ever.

So yesterday, the same day that I rediscovered food, not only did I get up on time to do my hair and wear makeup, but I was wearing cute jeans that made me feel good about my blecky swollen legs.

It was such a good day that we decided to celebrate last night by going out and getting a crib mattress instead of doing homework. And that is the end of my extremely long post. I hope you'll still be my friend after this.

Small note: I just realized I spent almost the whole hour between my classes writing this post instead of doing homework. You had better appreciate this, Mike and Mom (the only people who actually check my blog and read the long ones . . . :)

How Did I Even Get Here?

Tonight our family home evening activity was shopping. Furniture shopping. BABY furniture shopping. That's right. We officially own a beautiful espresso-finished (but it looks more like cherry) crib and changing table. I totally went on a cleaning the house rampage on Saturday, which resulted even in cleaning out the fridge with 409, but included getting the baby's room clean (finally!) which means we had to go shopping. We had no choice.

We went to, like, six different stores before we ended up at RC Willey and found their children's furniture. Just when we found the most perfect changing table ever, guess which song came on? My favorite song from my most favorite band of all time--"Faithfully" by Journey. It was a sign.

Really though? We fell in love with that set almost as soon as we walked in and saw it. And for every other piece of furniture we'd looked at, we had to be like, "well, I like this, but I liked this on the other one better . . . " Yeah. Not the case.

The hardest part about buying our furniture was tracking down a salesperson. Unfortunately for us, college students in their twenties are not typically targets for furniture salespeople. Every single one we saw was trailing an older couple around the sofas and dining sets. But when we did find one, he was super nice--not pushy--and recommended the crib we had already chosen because his wife is having a baby in December and they picked the same one. Totally perfect. Mike gets to pick it up tomorrow (they have them in stock in Salt Lake and a truck comes down every morning with the previous day's orders).

So besides purchasing physical evidence of my impending mommy-hood, I also just clicked "add" on my one and only VERY LAST class at BYU. Seriously. As of thirty seconds ago, I have finished registering for the entirety of my academic career. I've got the jibblies so hard it's putting the "EEEEEEEE" in WEEEEEEEEIIIIIIRRRRDDDD!!!!! Mike is only a little bit jealous.

Yeah, a lot of things have been sinking in recently. Such as owning furniture for the baby, and having a belly that's actually big enough for me to spill food on it, and completely finishing my education. I'm really (for REAL) going to be a mother very soon, and my life will be dictated by someone who's not a professor but has WAY more power over me. This is going to be so great. :)

Oh! and maybe I'll post pictures of our new baby room after Mike gets his manly on and builds all the furniture.

Today my boss met Katie.

My boss bought a new serger today that is specifically (and only) for T-shirt hems. Like, it does the whole thing. Super nifty. Anyways, she was telling me that she got it because her husband went and bought a handgun that he really wanted (and he's definitely not the kind of guy to actually go out and get something that he wants), so she had an excuse to get something she wanted.

So, naturally, I compared it to Mike getting his super-fancy ultra deluxe racquetball racquet, and how it justified my getting a bunch of satin and lace to make Katie's blessing dress.

When I said that, Ruth said, "Who's Katie?" I pointed to my belly.

"Oh," she said, brightening. "Hi, Katie!"

I have an awesome boss.

My pregnancy: Review at 24 weeks

Cool things about being pregnant:

• Baby stretches (even when its up against my ribs and kinda knocks the wind out of me)
• Making Mike jealous because he can't always feel the baby stretches or kicks when he puts his hand on my belly
• Super-whacked-out dreams, like the one where our car suddenly decided of its own accord to turn into a hybrid . . . and hilarity and giant spaghetti noodles ensued . . .
• Buying really cute baby clothes
• Buying really cute baby accessories
• Thinking about buying really cute baby furniture
• Cool friends who want to throw me a baby shower so we can squeal and look at cute baby things without thought of responsibility
• Thinking about the eighteen months that we couldn't be pregnant, and how those months are over
• Thinking about January, when all the soreness and inches will turn into a delicious and wonderful cuddly baby that will love me more than anyone (and I guess Mike too)
• Thinking about not being pregnant any more

Un-cool things about being pregnant:

• Heartburn (this is huge)
• Sore muscles, ligaments, and now-non-existent abs
• Waddling up and down stairs and around campus
• Not sleeping very much
• How every time anyone says anything about going to the bathroom, Katie does a Jackie Chan-esque turbo-kick followed by the Ironman 3-point power-landing on my bladder
• (All the horrific things that my body did to me during the first 5 months, about which I am not prone to think. Also the things that are starting to happen to me now that I'm 3rd trimester, also about which I choose not to think)

In all seriousness, though, this is one of the most amazing experiences of my life. During that year and a half of praying for a baby, I will admit that I didn't know, fully, how it was going to happen. But every time I say her name and she kicks me hard in the belly button, it gives me the shivers. Every time I see the little sleepers I already bought for her (with MONKEY FEET!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) I imagine her warm little body inside them and cuddling her against me, and it makes me almost physically ache for January, when I'll get to know her for real.

Maybe I'm getting a little sentimental. But seriously? There's going to be a baby here. And saying that babies aren't the most amazing thing on the planet is like saying that ice cream is an unsavory substance that causes uncomfortable feelings in the digestive system, or saying that a jet pack is a dangerous thing to own (that was for you, Mike). Babies are just . . . the whole reason I exist right now.

Sorry. I'll stop blubbering. And hint that my mom might actually get a picture of me with my pregnant belly sometime soon . . . like, after I get my hair cut tonight. Maybe. Just saying, there's potential.

Hey Nonny

I would just like my sister to know that Mike and I passed the most gorgeous blue-eyed husky on our way home from school today. Yeah, Nonny, you BE jealous.

In other words, school . . .

Can you guess what happened at the ultrasound?

The radiologist said she's not "100% sure," but there were no . . . manly parts where there would be if it were a boy, so . . . IT's A GIRL!!!!!!!!!
I'm so excited, it's giving me heartburn.

Non-text-based Blog Post

I just realized there's been a lot going on this summer, and while I may have told you all about it, there has been no visual. And pictures are half the reason anybody even reads anybody's blog. It's true. Don't try to deny it. So I thought I'd take selections from the "SpSu 2010" folder on my computer with a little list of the major events of the summer. Here goes.

Mike may have learned to make real bread. It was quite tasty, even if the rolls got slightly burned on the bottom.

Sarah came to visit while she was at her ballet intensive. More like we kidnapped her. But then when she went home our house was always really boring.

Apparently this was more comfortable than her dorm bed. I dunno, maybe all the stanky ballerina feet finally got to her head.

And of course the usual happened . . . :)

Then we happened to meet the Pirate King. He got a little less hairy, you'll notice, but still just as ridiculously flexible. Ew. Also, did you know that the official, (cough cough legal cough) DVD of that movie is coming out in September? No more secretive eBay hunts!!!

Then the Pirate King was attacked by the Phantom of the Opera/Headless Horseman/G.I. Joe wielding a furious wooden spoon. The battle was quite epic.

Then Mike applied to med school. No big deal. Except for that it has consumed his entire waking life when he's not at work. Which, by the way, he is nowadays. He's back at the library in another Level 2 secretary position (which = really good pay). In fact, the supervisor heard he needed a job and called and asked him to apply. That's how much they like him. Then they hired him at the rate he had been at before he quit, which is much higher than most students who work at the library. Pretty cool, huh?

Anyhow, this is the picture for which I dressed him up and posed him next to our cleanest cinder block so he could attach it to his med school applications.

And these are the amazingly adorable twin boys (4 months old) we babysat this morning so their parents could go do sealings. Oh my goodness, it was so much fun. They were all giggling and happy and smiley until I got the camera out (of course). Pretending to be the parents for a few hours makes the whole actually being parents thing a little more real. Not to mention, I got so excited my brain hurt. Luke likes me better . . .

. . . but Mike and Thomas totally bonded.

All the same, I really kinda hope we don't have twins. I don't think we will, but there's always the chance. We have our ultrasound on Tuesday (!!!) and then we'll see. :)

By the way, for those interested, I finally gave up and cut my hair because the front wasn't getting long enough. It isn't the haircut I was waiting for, but it's not a mullet. It's actually quite cute. I am satisfied. . . . I just also don't like getting my picture taken. Maybe it's all the swelling.

I get to brag because Mike's not here to stop me.

BRAG: Mike totally had an official interview with the Provo Manager for Kaplan today. And apparently it went well.
Back-track: Because he did so ridiculously well on the MCAT, Kaplan (the people from whom he took his test prep class) invited him to audition for a teaching position. Thus, a couple weeks ago, he went over to Kaplan for a teaching audition. They said he could teach anything, so long as it was non-academic, and it had to be less than five minutes. So he decided to teach them how to build a snow-cave. He rehearsed it for me a couple of times (using our little refridgerator whiteboard) and he did a pretty good job, but I think he did even better when he actually got there (I don't think my snarky comments were helping him stay serious much).
Anyways, there were a couple of other guys there, one for DAT prep courses, and one other guy for MCAT prep courses--and the latter happened to be his old roommate from when we were engaged, Aaron. First thing Aaron said when he saw Mike was, "Hey, Mike! . . . You've gained a lot of weight!" To which Mike replied "uh . . . thank you." Apparently it's a good thing. Aaron taught about how to serve a racquetball and the DAT guy taught about surfing, and apparently they all did really well, because each thought the others did better than he did, and I know at least Mike and Aaron passed with flying colors and had interviews today. (I dunno, we don't keep in touch with the DAT guy. :)
So during my lunch hour Mike modeled his suit jackets for me to see which one fit him best, approved his choice of tie, and at 2 went to his interview. Apparently it went really well, but that's all I know because then he went straight to his hospital volunteer job. Yeah, rolling patients to the CT scanner! Woo!
Yeah, I'm pretty much bubbling with pride. He's pretty great.

I didn't know that free blog backgrounds could expire.

But apparently mine did? I just came on one day and all of a sudden my whole blog was blank and white. BOR-ING. So I picked a new one. Cute, yes?

I really shouldn't be writing right now.

Because all I'm going to do is complain. That's okay. It's my blog. You just have to take it. :)
Complain #1: I'm totally starting to show.
I thought this wasn't supposed to happen for a few more weeks, but here it goes. Admittedly, I've had the maternity pants for a while because when I first got pregnant, I was all bloated and sick and pukey all the time, and wearing my normal pants put too much pressure on my already distressed stomach. So Mike let me buy some maternity ones. They're amazing.
No, the part that I'm having trouble with is the new wardrobe I am officially changing out this week. For my birthday (which isn't until Saturday but my mother insisted upon us celebrating whilst in Boise last week) my mom took me to a bunch of consignment stores to hunt for maternity clothes. We found a lot of stuff for not very expensive. It was great. So now I have a closet (well, it's still in a giant bag on the floor right now) full of extremely cute but still very tent-like maternity shirts. Ugh.
Complain #2: I'm 14 1/2 weeks and there's no light at the end of the tunnel. Ew. Puke.

Anyways, I'm still at work. I wish food were tasty . . .

I GOT A B!!!!

In my theory class. This is big news. BIG.
It means I don't fail life.
Peace.

Kay, fine, I'm pregnant. And Mike's really smart.

:)
I haven't written anything worthwhile here for a long time because everything I have to say is related to morning sickness, babies, etc.
The due date is officially January 9, 2011 (it was January 6 for a while, but my doctor made an executive decision), but my mother has already pointed out that I was two whole weeks late in the middle of July in Salt Lake City. Honestly, she never has forgiven me for that.
Anyway, so that's why, if you're my neighbors, I'm really boring and don't play volleyball. Trust me, if you saw me last year, you'd know it's NOT because I'm shy. I do come cheer on the teams and get rashes on my arms from all the crabgrass, though. That counts, right? You really don't want me to puke on you, do you?
Well, actually, the puking is almost over, or so they tell me. I'm officially 11 1/2 weeks right now, and I'm supposed to be almost done with that whole morning sickness thing. Some of the other girls in my ward said week 14. Yeah, I'm not seeing the end of any tunnels. You know how the people in the Statistics Office found out? Yeah, some professor came to clean out his fish tank in the copy room and I manifested my disapproval all over the front desk. They thought I was dying first, but when I recovered relatively quickly, they figured it out. Luckily they're all nice people. :)
My favorite part so far has been people's reactions. My mom shrieked and cried for a few minutes straight before I could put the phone back on my ear, my dad started loudly complaining that his hair and teeth were falling out and he could feel his face wrinkling up, and some of Mike's sisters actually didn't believe him. But I think the best one was when we told all my siblings in person over Memorial Day weekend. I announced right before family prayer that "we're going to have a baby." Everybody got all excited, except for my 10-year-old sister, who got this panicked look on her face and said, "um, can you at least wait until you get back to Utah?" Priceless. Absolutely priceless.
Now, in reference to the "Mike's really smart" part of my title, let me just tell you a completely ridiculous story. So Mike took the MCAT (Medical College Admissions Test) on May 21. This test is like the bane of all pre-meds' existences, and he spend $2500 and over six months getting ready for this test. Huge. Kind of determines our future. It's out of 45, but it's also curved, so getting a 35 is a pretty good score. I think the average acceptance score is like 33. The writing section is scored J through T, with T being a perfect score. Totally weird, but med schools don't really look at your writing score unless it's a tie-breaking issue. Seriously.
Anyhow, he was scheduled to get all of his scores back on June 22, so we've been anxiously awaiting this week with fingers crossed and eyes shut tight--with one corner squinted open. So yesterday right before my lunch break, Mike texts me that he didn't get the writing score he wanted (which is actually because his computer randomly shut down in the middle of the writing portion of the test). Of course my response was "WHAT WAS YOUR REAL SCORE?!?!?!?" To which I received . . . no answer. The twerp.
As soon as I got home for lunch, he showed me that he did SUPER WELL (Mr. Humility is too embarrassed to let me put the actual score up. You'd think as his wife I'd have some bragging rights . . .). We have a FUTURE! He never did as well as that on any of the practice tests! And all he was doing was complaining about his bad writing score. The twerp.
Anyways, that's my life. Pretty nauseous. But extremely happy!!

See? I'm being good by neglecting my blog!

Yesterday, Mike read the article in this month's Ensign by Elder Bednar about keeping contact with the physical world, and enjoying our mortal existence and the bodies we have been blessed with by not becoming dependent on electronics or the internet. Part of it, according to Mike, said that excessive blogging counts as internet addiction, and tells a story of a mom who stopped enjoying spending time with her kids because everytime something happened, she started fretting about what to write on her blog about that.
My conclusion: when I forget about this blog and don't post more than once a month (that much if you're lucky) it just means I'm keeping the commandments. Ha.

Another day for you and me in para. . . statistics . . .

Yeah . . . nothing cool to report.
Except that I'm officially the morning secretary here for the rest of Spring Term. For some reason, Ruth decided that I should always start the front instead of alternating with Rachel, who really is a front desk secretary. I don't get it either. She said something about transition, because Rachel won't be here after Spring, but come Summer Term, I'll always be in the back and Noelle will the the all-day front desk secretary. I dunno. This arrangement just seems a little odd to me.
In other news, Mike took the MCAT a week and half ago. We don't find out what his score was until June 22, but he hasn't been able to give me any kind of impressions on how he felt he did. Whenever he thinks he failed, he usually gets a high score, and whenever he's really confident, he has totally failed. So I don't really want to ask him either. We'll see on the 22nd.
Nobody's coming to the Statistics Department. Ever. It's been so slow today. I haven't even had other professors in their offices here with music I can listen in to. I have to procure my own. So I'm listening to Tears for Fears. Yes, I'm serious. Don't judge.
I'm also living on goldfish crackers. They're kind of my staple. I wish I had brought a sandwich . . . a nice ham sandwich with lettuce and tomato and miracle whip . . . mmmmmm . . .
Oh well. Was this incoherent enough for you?

THEORY IS KILLING MY LIFE.

That's the only way I can describe it. That's also why I haven't written anything on this blog. Seriously, we're reading our good buddy Immanuel today, and I just Kan't! (Oh no, I'm starting to sound like my dad . . . )

Someday you will hear from me again. After this class has killed me I'll come back from the grave and write on my blog. Until then, cheerio!

This is going to be a very long summer.

I've been here since eight this morning. And my boss is out of town. So when professors aren't bringing me projects, I sit here wondering why the heck the office isn't closed between semesters.
Classes start tomorrow. They might possibly be the worst ever. Or I could luck out and they could be the best ever. But I doubt they'll hit middle ground. Want to know why? They are: ELANG 325, English Grammar; and English 451, Critical Traditions of Theory. Seriously, Britt. What were you thinking? Theory and Grammar without anything fun? Come on.
That's okay. It'll be better than full time at the office. At least I'll have something to break up my day and keep my attention span at its optimal capacity (which . . . isn't very high).
So, today Mike applied for a job as a receptionist at a family practice within the hospital where he already volunteers. I think it would be ultra cool if he got to work there. He's ultra good with kids and ultra good at medicine, so what better mix? I think he'd be an amazing pediatrician, but he thinks that would be too sad. Oh well. I would rather he be happy. But this job will be cool if he gets it.
Also, the MCAT is in one month. Four weeks. Mike took a practice test from the people who actually make the MCAT for the first time this weekend and got a bit discouraged, but I think he's got time. Pray for him, will you?
I don't know what else to tell you other than that I'm really bored. Oh yeah! So, I totally made a green satin dress during finals week (I mean, I was studying the WHOLE time!!) Yeah. Well, it's a really pretty dress, and it actually looks good, which surprised me. I was totally expecting to bungle it all up. I guess low expectations make happy surprises, right?
So, I just realized something today. One year from now, I will have graduated from BYU, as will have Mike. And I don't think you can really major in Medical School. So our blog title will be a bit outdated. Any ideas for what we should rename it? Let's make this a contest! Your prize for winning will be . . . . a warm, fuzzy feeling! And maybe credit for giving us the cool name. We'll see.

Winter, Spring, Easter, and Winter again

Yeah, so I've been berated multiple times by various sisters and mothers who seem to think I don't put enough pictures on my blog. Thus, this will be a picture blog post.

Once upon a time it was spring in Provo, and there was lots of beautiful blue sky and sunshine, and we actually went outside to spend our lunch hour in the sunshine.

Alas, it was not to be forever. For, the very same week, we left for school in the morning only to see:

Mega. Lame. Oh well.

Well, then we went to Boise to spend Easter with people who were a lot more fun than school. This picture's title is "I'll pedal, Emma. You steer!"

Then, while my father was getting out his umpire stuff, including all the league's ump shirts, we happened across a two-headed monster! (wearing an XXXXL shirt!)

Luckily, we managed to avoid being mauled. Then, suddenly, it was Easter. The bunny decided to hide our baskets around the house, but certain obnoxious little brothers (cough cough JAMES cough) said, as soon as somebody would come downstairs, "I know where your basket is! It's _________!" Obnoxious. Still, there were some cute pictures of the sugar buzz that ensued.

Parker arrived from Washington DC in the midst of all this; it was later unanimously voted that Emma got the coolest president. I mean present. Whups. :)

One thing I did not realize was that the little brother who two months ago was shorter and still sounded like a little brother was now taller than my mother, and answered the phone in this deep, indifferent teenager voice. It was sick.

Luckily, we all got a turn in the awesome hat. Here, Nonny is practicing her vaudeville technique.

Soon enough, it was time for us Provo-ites to leave. Alas, it was a tragic day! But not tragic enough to stop the new-age musicians from shooting their music videos on our driveways.

As soon as the video was over, my dad discovered that he had the power to levitate objects, simply with his mind!

Then I got to take a screamy picture with the musician. If she'd stuck around I was going to have her sign my elbow with a sharpie.

In other news, Mike had a birthday a while ago, and the fam sent him an AMAZING picture of the temple, about which we are both very enthusiastic.

And now there are no new pictures because it's almost finals week and we're too busy playing. Whups! I mean studying.

THE END

Reason #47 why English majors are awesome: VERY WELL-WRITTEN ANGRY LETTERS!

Once upon a time, it was 7:30 on a lovely Thursday morning, and I and my husband were all asleep and cozy in our bed, waiting for the alarm to go off at 8--which I'm sure you'll agree is a perfectly reasonable time for college students, whose classes don't start until 9:30, to wake up. But alas! We were cruelly ripped from our dreams of ponies, rainbows, Organic Chemistry and the like, when someone began pounding on our door! I, in my half-awake doze, mumbled something about putting clothes on to see who it was, before the pounding ceased, someone actually tried to open the door (couldn't because it was chained), and we heard a voice yelling "HELLO! MAINTENANCE! MAINTENANCE! HELLO!"

I was slightly put-out.

You see, we knew that Thursday was to be our day for having our linoleum replaced--a fact that I was not displeased about--but this was contrary to all of our experiences with maintenance. They had posted a flyer on our door telling us what day to expect, and something about an information meeting, but the meeting was at 3:00 on a Friday afternoon, which is impossible for most people who have classes or jobs to make. We didn't bother about it, because what questions would we have? I had planned on making breakfast, cleaning out the pantry, and maybe seeing the workers in passing as we headed out to school. They'd replace our floor, everything would be fine.

But no. No, it was not fine.

Mike threw on some shorts, went to the door, and found the whole crew of linoleum guys waiting anxiously for us to get out of the apartment. He made some attempt at "we haven't even showered yet," to which the oh-so-compassionate gentlemen replied, "if you hurry, you'll be able to shower before we unplug your water heater." All this while I'm hiding in the bedroom in my garments, in shock at their callousness.

So, we tried to hurry. We were in the shower for ten minutes between us--Mike went in for five minutes, then I took a turn--but no sooner had I lathered up my head in shampoo than the water instantly became so cold it felt refrigerated. Doubtless it was my scream of insatiable rage that caused them to plug it back in for me, but they still sent Mike in every 30 seconds or so to say, "are you done yet?"

So to recap: we were woken up, my kitchen was destroyed by a bunch of dirty, disgusting footprints and gloves, I had to shower with a bunch of strange men in my apartment, AND they unplugged the water heater on me. Then, after I had hastily dressed and packed up, Mike and I had to leave for school without breakfast or packed lunches (=not good for our budget). I felt completely violated, like just because we're poor student renters, they could throw us out or subject us to any kind of indecent situation they wanted.

So I wrote a letter. And this was not the I'm-so-furious-I'm-going-to-spill-my-wounded-bleeding-heart-all-over-the-page-and-send-it-to-you kind of letter. No, this one took me an hour to write, making sure there were no excuses or loopholes they could find in it. No, this was one furious letter. It felt really good.

After all this happened, and I had related my experience to some friends who were about to go through the same experience (but with warning this time), they told me about someone else from our quad who had told the linoleum guys that his baby was still asleep, that building quiet hours were until 8, and then slammed the door in their face. Amen, brutha.

Today, Mike got home before I did, and texted me at work saying someone from the Wymount Office had hand-delivered a letter for me. When I got home, I discovered a very apologetic letter with two coupons for a free half-gallon of ice cream at the Creamery. I don't want to say I wrote the letter for the ice cream, but it sure was vindicating. :)

Mostly I hope they just stop doing that. If they're on such a tight schedule, they should put ON THE FLYER that they're coming at SEVEN THIRTY IN THE MORNING. Give people a chance to save their own humanity. Geez.

Sorry, guys. Writing this a little of my terrible anger is returning, just remembering how violated I felt. I hope this makes any horrible landlord situation seem a little better in comparison with mine. :)

A belated St. Paddy's Day Joke

So an Irishman walks out of a bar--

hey, it could happen! :)

Three O'Clock

Salty lamp-light tumbles

through the blinds, crashing

on the denim rocks, interspersed

with tiny yarn birds.

The cold breeze dries out wide-

open eyes. Above, fireworks

crash, their plaster explosions

keep you awake.

Behind, the carnival continues--

the merry-go-round begins to

turn, the quilt chasing

like an anxious parent.

Shrivel, exposed

to the incoming tide,

skin prickling

instantly. Turn back to the pier, catch

one of the porcelain horses,

taking shelter in the warmth

of the machine.

It reverses--

disappears with a snort--

His dream ends long enough to wrap long arms

around shivering shoulders.

Laundry soap, aftershave, a hint of something

sweet--

The churning waltz begins

its slow dance, the gears

rumbling

back into their pulsing rhythm.

Hold your breath, feel the heavy

sway of the engine. Feel the cool

of the sea pulling back, as the carnival drifts

away, leaving only the tappling

of the rain--

the tide bustling into the tiny

apartment, stare into a tiny

reality, three thousand miles

away from a New England shore,

where the beach is cinderblock

and chipped tile

and no children cry.

My New Favorite Scripture

Mostly just so I remember the reference. :)

Alma 38:5 - "And now my [daughter, Brittany,] I would that ye should remember, that as much as ye shall put your trust in God even so much ye shall be delivered out of your trials, and your troubles, and your afflictions, and ye shall be lifted up at the last day."

Thank you, presidents, for giving us a day off.

Here's what President's Day looked like when we took a break from our EIGHT hours of homework and cleaning to go for a walk.

Yeah, okay, maybe it was a little darker. :)

Thinking about the Parker-Guy

The other day, when Mike got out his journal to write in it, he found something that I had slipped into the front cover when cleaning.

"The 'Best Man' Toast
"Mike & Brittany Morgan
"December 2008
"As a few of you probably know, I don't have a lot of experience being a 'best man.' I know that's hard to believe. For a long time I wasn't sure what I wanted to say.
"But over the last several months I've gotten to know Mike a little. I know that he loves my sister and has a strong testimony. I've decided that if I ever had an older brother--I'd want it to be him.
"I love my sister Brittany more than anything in the whole world and look up to her. Most important is her testimony and knowledge of the gospel. I'm glad she has made right choices adn is sealed in the temple.
"I'd like to offer a toast to Mike and Brittany Morgan--Thanks for showing me the right way to do things. May you always stay close to each other, to the gospel and to the Lord."

It's not signed, but I'm going to tell you all about the author anyway. This is the toast my then-eleven-year-old brother Parker gave at the luncheon right after my wedding. He was the best man 1) because Mike doesn't have any brothers and 2) he's just awesome. Reading that, you'd never think a pre-deacon wrote it, right?
Perhaps I should explain his nickname-- When James was learning to talk, he couldn't say 'Parker', but somehow had picked up the word 'guy', so he called Parker 'guy' for a long time. After that, even when he became 'Parker' again, the guy remained. Now it's mostly just my mom that says it. :)
After reading that toast though, I've been thinking a lot about my brother, and how much I don't appreciate him enough.
Growing up, he suffered multitudinous abuses from us sisters. I'll only speak for myself, but I know that during my year and a half when I hated the world as a teenager, he usually got the brunt of it. Maybe little brothers are easier to find things wrong with, but that was the case. And I know it carried over with certain other sisters who went through similar phases. Whether it was his whistling, his cheerfulness, or his general brotherliness, he was the one who always got the screaming tantrums from his sisters, and whom my mother vainly tried to defend in the face of it.
In the face of all this, somehow he managed to still love me. Going back after my first year of college, he was one of the siblings who actually seemed the most happy to see me, and now he talks to me on the phone, recommends books for me and Mike to read, and is just plain awesome. So today I just feel like telling some stories about my kid brother Parker, because I've been thinking about him.
When he was younger--we're going to guess 3rd or 4th grade, our neighbors had a Pit Bull puppy. She was huge. And they were not very good at keeping hold of her in their yard/house. Well, one day, Parker and Emma (who would have been in 1st or 2nd grade) were walking home from the bus stop after school, this pit bull puppy came bounding out of the house at the end of the cul-de-sac towards them. Now, I want to paint a picture for you. Only in recent years has Parker achieved the stature he has now (he's taller than mom now). He was this little kid with a big head, and Emma Grace has never been big at all. So we're looking at two little Whiting children, alone under the oppression of this gigantic dog, whose intentions they knew nothing of.
What does Parker do? Rather than run away, as I probably would have done, he pushes Emma behind him and faces the dog. Now, I don't remember if the owner came out and called her just in time, or if Park ended up kicking the thing, but either way, I was so proud of him. Despite the fact that no one in my family is in any way fond of dogs (except Nonny), he thought more about protecting his sister than not getting bit. And he was like nine.
More recently, while we were visiting my family over the week of New Year's, a few of us stayed up late to play a game of Phase 10. During the entirety of the game, Parker was talking, whether it was bad jokes, anecdotes from school, or even whistling while everyone was organizing their cards. Mike leaned over to me and said, "he really doesn't stop making noise, does he?" Now, initially I was annoyed. But then I realized that if all we did was sit and stare at the cards in our hands, we wouldn't be having any fun. Parker, you are the life of the party.
So, that's my brother. He's smart (ridiculously so), funny, and we love him tons. Just a thought. :)

Various points of interest . . . and such . . .

Medical school is going to be so much fun.
Well, I guess I shouldn't be so blatantly sarcastic. I mean, I have set up a pretty nice routine for myself. Thursdays I teach my organ class, and occasionally a meeting beforehand to coordinate those of us who currently play in sacrament meeting, Tuesdays I hang with the Heathen, and what time I have left I usually spend talking on the phone to various members of my family (but always Sarah) because I can't focus when Mike is not home.
I'll need to think of another routine for when Mondays get taken out of the picture.
Major things that have happened recently:
-Mike is on a leave of absence from the temple right now. He is now considered a regular patron, because his study load was too heavy and the long shift on Saturday was taking its toll. He's prayed about it a lot, and decided the best thing to do right now was focus on his schoolwork so he can secure us a future (and the 1 1/2 hour session is a lot less time out of your day than the 6 hour shift). I've been praying a lot to know that he's doing the right thing, and I'm okay with it now. There are just a lot of traumatic changes going on recently.
-Mike also officially is quitting his library job today. Dr. Seeley (his biomechanics prof last semester) offered him a research job in his lab, because they got the funding they had been looking for, but they can only pay him for a month's worth. But again, after much prayer and faith, we've decided that it's better for him to get this experience to put on his application for medical school, and once the paid month is up, his hours in the lab will be fewer and he can find another job, hopefully TA-ing. In all likelihood, he will be jobless for about a month and a half until spring term starts, and I'll be the only source of income. It's not like we won't be able to survive (I make enough to live on, trust me) but I guess it's just a preclude to our completely destitute days in the future. The difference now is that we're still completely debt-free, which means that no matter what happens, our consciences are clear. That will not be the case in a couple of years.
On a lighter note, January was obscenely warm this year, and February seems to be following in its footsteps. I wore a light jacket to church on Sunday. Seriously.
Classes are not eating my life nearly as much as I anticipated. By far my hardest one is probably my poetry class, and he only expects two good poems out of us this whole semester. In fact, I have to turn in poems for my first workshop (which will happen next Tuesday) tomorrow, and I haven't figured out the poem yet. Ew.
Mike's having a bit of a hard time so far, probably because he bit off more than he could chew this semester, and starting to realize it. Hence the leave of absence and quitting the job for his research position instead of just adding them together. I hope having more time makes a difference.

Okay, so i didn't take pictures of my apartment. Tough.

I cleaned up Christmas this last weekend, because I knew that it was going to be one of the few when I wouldn't have a billion homework and a tall man to help me put things away. Sorry, guys.
The first week and a half of school has been rather uneventful. Except for one big thing: this is the longest I've ever lasted in a semester being entirely caught up in the readings and assignments for all my classes!!! WAHOOO! Yeah, I should get, like, a medal or something.
Mike's MCAT prep course started last night. I even stayed after work to plan a presentation with my group from ELang for this morning, and didn't get home until about 6:30, and I still had three hours to get whatever I wanted done before husband showed. This is going to be a very long semester. I realized later that I had forgotten to turn the sound back up on my phone, and that Mike's sister, Amy, had called me, but I missed it. Bummer. Maybe you should call me Thursday evening, Amy. I'll need some human interaction. :)
Today for my 202 class (World Literature after 1500), we were supposed to read 1 1/2 acts of Othello, which I have read several times, including for my Shakespeare class last year. Thus, during the discussion, I got all deep on Iago and whatnot, and I have a suspicious feeling that most of it was way over the heads of the majority of the class (they're not English majors). It was fun, though. I felt all knowledgeable.
You know what's fabulous? Having access to a personal computer all day on campus so I don't have to wrestle with somebody for a lab computer. All I have to do is close the door to my office so people don't try to do work with me. It's very convenient. Most days when I come here I do homework, but today I needed to blog.
I feel like I complain a lot on this blog. If you reader types feel the same way, I'm really sorry. To make up for it, I'm going to pull a Sister Nettles and talk about the things I'm grateful for today.
I am grateful for an amazing husband who is authorized and worthy to give me priesthood blessings, sometimes more often than others would think. I am especially grateful for what a good man he is; he's righteous, kind, ambitious, protective, fun, and is always there ready to hold me when I really need him to, even if he should most definitely be studying. I'm grateful for friends around me who are so open and kind and invite us to things. I'm grateful for a solid job, where I'm paid decent money and I feel needed and rewarded for what I do. I'm grateful for (as much as I hate to say it) school, and the opportunities I have here. As much as I hate college sometimes, there are things I am able to do and learn here that I could never do anywhere else, and it will benefit me so much in the long run. I'm grateful for a family who raised me with goals, standards, and an eternal perspective, so I have made these realizations. I'm also very grateful that they love me. That's something I feel really blessed for.
Most of all, I'm grateful for my Heavenly Father and his son, Jesus Christ, who came to this earth to atone for my sins, die and be resurrected so that I can live again. Not only does his atonement make it possible for Mike and I and our family to be sealed eternally because we can repent of our sins, but he also understands my sorrows, my sicknesses, my broken hearts. He gives me hope even when the only feeling I can find by myself is despair. Because of the Lord, the dark places of my life are made light.
You probably weren't expecting this post to end up as a serious one. But since I'm already on a roll, I'll end with one more thing.
"Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." Matthew 11:28