Screaming Trees

I freaked out the other day because I couldn't stop thinking about how our neighborhood doesn't have a single tree that's taller than a house. Not one. Poor Patrick had to drive me up to Mt. Charleston so I would stop panicking because Fuzzy had never seen a "real" tree or had the benefits of breathing the CO2 it provides. Above are pictures of how that went and my bad hair. (More on that later.) The one of my cute husband was taken in Afton, Wyoming. (Near Jackson Hole). We travel great distances to be with the trees!

He Came With Free Shipping!

Sometimes I ask myself if people "wonder" about Patrick or me because we met online. I wouldn't want anyone that knows us having to explain and preface our arrival to a dinner party. "They met online!" Whisper, whisper. Nudge, nudge. Maybe it's not taboo anymore. Maybe we're the exception to the rule. In any event, if the idea of meeting someone via computer seems strange to you, please allow me to present the Top 10 Reasons Why I Met My Husband Online...

10. Numbers. I could see hundreds of potential prospects without having to rely on chance encounters to discover an attraction.

9. Efficiency. Reading boys' online profiles was a quick (and often hilarious) way to see if the guys I wanted to talk to had personality elements that were deal breakers or deal makers. Being well into "the wrong side of 25" when I felt ready to date seriously, it was imperative that I didn't waste time on the wrong men. Tick-tock!

8. The Consumer factor. "Shopping" for men online is much like shopping for anything online. Looking around for the best deals was fun, and I got to feel the familiar anticipation of the arrival of my package upon meeting guys for the first time after finding them online. Then if someone wasn't Mr. Wonderful, I could send him back faster than a pair of heels that pinched.

7. Blocking. That little red X is magic. If someone turned out to be weird, I blocked 'em! No more IMing! This was much easier than avoiding phone calls or awkward encounters at church.

6. Getting ready time. It takes me a really long time to get ready. Chatting on line was great because I could post a pretty picture of myself all ready, but sit around in my PJs with unwashed hair and meet people. Don't get me wrong, sometimes I did manage to get ready fast enough to make it to the activity before it ended. But more often then not, I left saying, "This was a total waste of make-up." Which leads me to my next point...

5. No more wasting valuable lip-gloss. By the time I met a guy in person for a date, I knew him well enough to know I really wanted to be there with supple juicy lips. Patrick and I talked online and on the phone for 5 months before our first date in person.

4. Larger Dating Pool Equaled Broader Horizons. Dating online made it very viable to pick up and go to say Australia or the UK because guys offered to fly me out. Yes, that would be dangerous, but I loved the risk factor. Danger, danger, danger! Bring it on! (I never actually went anywhere to meet a guy. I'm a chicken. I'm also traditional so I adamently believe men should come to meet me.) Melbourne! London! Hoboken! Vegas! Ya, whatever. But the idea was exciting.

3. Confidence boosting. I am kind of oblivious and distracted in social situations. I also hate to be presumptuous. In our single days, Nori would often have to tell me when a guy was putting a vibe out because I wouldn't pick up on it. Then came LDS Planet. Nothing in my real world dating experience has equalled the clarity and exhilaration I felt when I would come home every evening and open my online profile to find that 73 some odd guys had viewed it and sent me emails. This is probably how Paige feels when she reads all the comments on her blog. Major love!

2. Getting to the nitty-gritty. Reading what people write is an effective way to get to know them and how they think. I often learned more about guys in my ward through online chats than from interacting with them at church. Plus writing online is cerebral and romantic...a tad like penning old fashioned love letters. I like it. It's also great if you're shyer or at least less effective in huge church groups than your girlfriends like I am/was.

1. Friends First. Pat and I were both dating other people when we met online and became friends. I am so glad we got to know each other pressure free because it paved the way for a deeper relationship later. Plus I ended up with a really cute baby! Viva LDS Planet!

Hooter Hider 101

Every Mom knows about this wonderful invention called the Hooter Hider. The first time you see one, you say, "Oooohhhh, aaaaahhhh!" and you have to have it right away. They are expensive, but lucky for me Nor gave me a beautiful one at my baby shower. I haven't had that much practice using it yet because as I've mentioned before, I mostly just walk around my house naked all day feeding Harrison. If we venture out, I try to feed him first and rush out and back before he gets hungry again.

Well, last night we had to make an emergency trip to Pier One Imports because of a window treatment disaster that had to be solved precisely because I do walk around the house naked all day. By the time we were through, there was no sense in going home to cook dinner. This led to an impromptu meal out. Great! Pat likes the ribs at this place by our house called Remedy's. (Byline: Food, Fun and Poker.) It was either that or Subway, so I said, "Casual Vegas dining, here we come!" The dining part is separated from the bar by a giant glass wall so I thought it'd be OK for the baby. I ordered the rib-eye. Harrison was gurgling and looking around, everyone was happy. The waitress brings my steak, and then the baby tells me he's hungry too. Lucky I had my trusty hooter-hider. Too bad I don't have three hands. That's OK, Pat cut up my steak for me in girl size bites.

Now I'm ready to use my magical modesty sheath in a restaurant for the first time. It's a slow night, but there are five people in the booth right next to us. Pat offers me some encouragement, "Don't worry. You're covered," he says. Then I realize I have a Victoria's Secret angels bra on, not a breast feeding one. I run to the bathroom, take it off, hide it in the diaper bag, and slink back to our table, all the while wondering if people notice the saggy difference. Maybe they think I am a free flowin' hippie type. Oh, well.

Harrison and I get down to business. He finishes one side, so I do the burp and switch. He waves his little arms around a lot, so I'm juggling him, his blanket, and the hooter hider as I lean over to grab his burp cloth. To my horror, I hear my husband say in a very clear voice, "Your boob is out." I look down and sho'nuff! The conversation in the booth next to us stops. The waitress swings by our table, assesses the situation, then keeps going without a word. I'm like, "Honey! Could you say that any louder?!"

Yep. Modesty really does go out the window when you're a new Mommy, but I'm not giving up on my Hooter-Hider. Even though my baby likes to throw his arms around like he's riding a roller-coaster, practice makes perfect. We'll get it. In the meantime I hope not to traumatize too many dinner guests.

*Please note: I know my pictures don't necessarily go with my blog topic, but I workin' on it. :)

The Boob Diet...

Ah, breastfeeding. Nor told me it was going to be hard. I was warned. But you never really now how hard until you start trying to figure it out with a wailing baby in your arms. After lots of crying, more from me than from him, I decided to go to the local women's center for a Mommy Mixer. I heard it's where you go to sit around and breastfeed and chat with other Moms while showing off your cute baby. I thought we could handle that, especially because the lactation specialists are on-hand for free counsel.

When we get there, I must look a little lost and desperate because the nice lady at the front desk said, "Ask for Ariel" with a knowing glance as she points me down the hall. I follow my ears toward what sounds like a high school cafeteria during cheer leading tryouts. The room is packed with about forty women, all with tiny babies. They are lining the walls and sprawled out on the floor. It's a free-for-all. The only thing that settles my newbie intimidation is the wave of oxcitocin that flows over me at the site of all the little bundles. I have never seen so many cute babies at one time. It was better than Easter Sunday and the maternity ward put together. Harrison and I make our way over to the only unoccupied chair in the place, and I start scanning the room for a name tag that reads, "HELLO, my name is ARIEL."

A lady with a tight pony-tail that holds her eyes open really wide so that she creases her forehead is making her way toward me. I'm hoping she's Ariel, but no such luck. She's Arla. Arla the lactation Nazi. And she has me cornered, so I have no choice but to talk to her. I figure, well, maybe she's just as good. No such luck. Arla asks me what I need help with. I think... Getting rid of formula. Throwing the nipple shield and my husband who doesn't understand out the window and making it look like an accident (j/k Doggy)...but I just say, "Latching on." Arla rushes me through our breastfeeding history like she already knows what I'm going to say and then proceeds to scold me. Nor warned me about this too. Arla makes me demonstrate how we feed, then yells at me for how I use the nipple shield, how I get my nipples ready for action, how I hold Harrison, how much I supplement, etc., etc. Arla talks really really fast and tells me a lot of stuff I already know from talking to Paige and Nor, but also adds a few things I don't know. Then she straps a contraption called "My Brest Friend" around my waist, grabs Harrison's head and teases him with my nipple until he makes a huge baby bird mouth, then shoves him on me. To my utter disbelief, he stays latched for the first time ever. I guess I can't be too mad at Arla.