The Time I Lost My Cool

I don't think I'm alone in hoping that, in a high-pressure situation, I will react totally calmly and keep my cool. See someone choking? Heimlich maneuver. Bam. Saved a life. Someone is holding me at gunpoint? Use my vast crime TV knowledge to convince them through witty dialect that they don't actually want to kill me. Meet a celebrity in the grocery store? Engage in a flawless conversation, walk away with an invite to the Oscars. Accidentally light a fire in my kitchen? Smother the flames with one hand while continuing to whip egg whites with the other. NBD.

Unfortunately, I have always known that this would never be the case. I have rarely, if ever, been able to say or do something perfect and witty in the moment, and even if I do come up with something borderline clever, it usually comes out all wrong. Exhibit A.

So it was really no surprise when, after starting an oil fire in my kitchen last night, I freaked out. 

I knew the pan was hot, but I didn't realize how hot. I poured the oil into the pan, watched it settle, and then watched as it literally burst into flames. Calm and collected? HA! I immediately started jumping up and down yelling Spencer's name over and over, possibly slipping the word "fire" in between terrified shrieks. It was actually pretty similar to my reaction when I see a bigger-than-average spider, but with much more urgency. I mean, this was a fire! A real fire! It looked just like the fires started by a chef on Chopped! It was big. The flames were reaching the counter, the wooden counter! It was going to spread and we don't have a fire extinguisher! (is it legal to not have a fire extinguisher?) And Carter! Carter was right over there! How could I start a fire when Carter was in the house? And where was Spencer? Could he not hear me screaming his name? 

Although I have a clear understanding that the absolute worst thing you can do in the event of a grease/oil fire is add water, I immediately started looking for a glass to fill with water to throw on the flames. I mean, hey, you see fire, you think water. Closely followed by Stop, Drop, and Roll, but I knew that didn't apply in this situation. Luckily my husband was able to keep a much calmer head and he quickly covered the flaming pan with a cookie sheet. 

Spencer: 1; Sadie: 0

Ah well. Let us hope that, next time I send my kitchen up in flames, I will have gotten out all of my "freak out and scream" and will be able to take care of it. Or at least grab the baby and call 911 before the whole complex goes down in flames. Amirite? 

This is one of those things that only looks cool on TV or in a Japanese restaurant.
(via)

Housekeeping 101: Marry Up

Between the two of us, Spencer is by far the more organized human. It's a wonder he hasn't sat me down for an intervention. Without a doubt, like six minutes after Spencer walks through the door, the entire apartment is spotlessly clean. And I'm not talking good-job-hiding-everything-under-the-bed clean, I mean really, legitimately, clean.

Suddenly everything has a place. The mail I carelessly threw onto the table is stacked neatly and set aside. The shoe pile by the front door has been cut in half. The burp cloths that scattered the floor are in the washing machine. The dishwasher is going, the throw blanket and pillows are nicely placed on the couch, and that random piece of lint I've been meaning to pick up all day is nowhere to be seen. Were you to walk into the apartment after Spencer got home, you would have no choice but to think that I had been slaving all day, Cinderella style, with a feather duster in one hand and a bottle of 409 in the other. In reality, I've been sitting on the couch watching every episode of Cake Boss. Whoops. 

And now, because every blog post needs a picture, here are my boys watching some Office before bedtime stories. Those noses, right? Identical.

Baby Story Part II

Part I

I specifically didn't write a birth plan in the event that things didn't go as I imagined. I felt like writing out a plan for something as unpredictable as child birth would only cause extra stress if things got complicated. Despite this precaution, I still had a strong mental image of how I wanted things to go. 

18 days til due date 

I wanted to be doing something completely typical of daily life - watching a movie or making dinner - when I felt the first contraction. I wanted to tell Spencer I thought I might be going into labor, and he should pack the bags as I called the doctor. I pictured getting to the hospital and pushing and grabbing Spencer's hand for dear life. I liked to think I would be one of those women who toughed it out without an epidural, though in reality I knew I wouldn't get too far. I wanted that spiritual moment of pure joy when I first heard my baby cry and I held him against my chest. I wanted a picture of my little family sitting on the hospital bed, me looking like I had been through a war, but it wouldn't matter because I had just given birth to a beautiful baby boy. I imagined I would leave the hospital a breast feeding professional. My mental birth plan was the most typical of hollywood scenes, and though I didn't want to admit it, my heart was set on it. 

The nursery coming together. So many hours were spent on that couch imagining the little boy who would occupy that room

Things started to go awry a few days before my due date when I went in for an appointment only to be told that I was nowhere near going into labor. Not only that, but my doctor was going out of town for a week and a half and another doctor would be inducing me on the 27th (a week after my due date) if I hadn't gone into labor before then. I was so disappointed that a different doctor would be delivering my baby, and I was pretty discouraged that I was showing no signs of going into labor. My one ray of hope was knowing that my baby would be here at least by the 27th, it was the thing keeping me going. 

That was soon to change. When I came in to meet with the new doctor, he informed me that he wanted to wait until my doctor got back on the 30th to induce me. I was so discouraged. Three days may not seem like a big deal, but when you're 10 days past your due date it's just about the biggest deal in the world. I sat there in the doctor's office and cried. I was so frustrated. I was sick of being pregnant, I was sick of telling people the baby still hadn't come, I was mad that I wasn't going into labor on my own, and I just wanted to meet my baby!

As I sat there trying to get my emotions under control, I asked if I could be induced. Based on family history and the way things were going, there was no way I was going to go into labor on my own, and I figured as long as I was going to be induced in a week I might as well be induced now. The doctor was very clear in his answer: a resounding "no." With my body being so far from going into labor on its own, he told me an induction would be a sentence to a c-section. Not only that, but it was against their policy. 

I was amazed at how emotionally draining it was to go so far past my due date. Every time someone asked about my pregnancy I had to fight back tears. To add to my stress, my sisters had come to town to help with the baby, and they were scheduled to leave in a few days. I had been so dependent on the thought of having them here to help once the baby had come, the thought of trying to figure out life with a new born without help from someone who had been there before was so overwhelming.

I went in for my next appointment expecting to set up an induction date on the 30th. Instead I was told to come back and meet with my doctor on the 31st. I freaked out. I was so beyond frustrated at this point. Despite my feelings, I sat there patiently until the doctor was done speaking, and then asked if I might be able to be induced on the 31st instead. I would, after all, be 11 days overdue. Having been turned down once before, I was beyond nervous that I would be turned down again. However, after a short pause, he simply said, "sure."

On my way to have a baby!

So the night of the 30th came and we set our alarms, not fully realizing that in the morning we would be on our way to meet out little boy. 

Once we were settled into the hospital, the nurse asked about a birth plan. I told her we didn't have one, only that Spencer wanted to cut the cord and that I wanted to hold my baby as soon as I could, those were the only things I had allowed myself to count on. 

And so it began. They gave me a pill to kick-start labor. They broke my water. They gave me an epidural. They started pitocin. And that's when the complications began. Every time I had a contraction, baby's heart rate would drop significantly. It became clear that there was meconium in my water. I had developed an infection, and I was freezing cold and shaking despite running a fever. They backed off the pitocin to help with baby's heart rate, they switched to internal monitors to get better readings, they started antibiotics, they made sure there would be a NICU nurse present for the delivery, they tried adding fluid back in, they put me on oxygen, they did an ultrasound, they turned me from side to side. They tried everything they could, but baby's heart rate was still going down. 

Twenty hours later I was dilated to a 10, and my doctor was able to tell that baby's head was in the wrong position. He wasn't posterior, he was in something called Brow Presentation, the least common infant position. He had his neck craned too far back and he was set to come out forehead first, which simply wasn't going to work. She tried physically moving his head, but it was no use. After 22 hours of labor, she told me she thought it was time for a c-section. 

As the nurses explained the procedure to me, they said that a c-section typically takes 10 minutes, and then another 30 to sew mom back up. I went into a panic. 10 minutes? I wasn't ready to have a baby in 10 minutes. I don't know what I had been expecting, seeing as I was in labor, but 10 minutes seemed shockingly short and I wanted more time to prepare. I was so tired, I at least wanted to be able to sleep for a few more hours before becoming a mother. 

But it turns out things like emergency c-sections don't wait for mothers to get in one last nap. They prepped me for surgery, made sure Spencer had his scrubs, and wheeled me into the OR. 

I don't fully know how to explain how I felt. I was so tired. I was exhausted. I couldn't open my eyes for more than a few seconds, and when I did everything was so blurry. I couldn't focus on anything. I kept trying to open my eyes for a solid three seconds, or at least to bring something into focus, because I wanted to be able to focus on my baby when I saw him. 

I was also freezing. I was shaking so violently that I ached. I tried putting my tongue between my teeth to stop them from chattering and my jaw from aching, but they were going too hard I was afraid I would bite through. I was afraid that if I didn't stop shaking they wouldn't let me hold my baby, someone shaking as much as me wouldn't be able to hold onto anything. Eventually I heard the anesthesiologist state that I was "shaking like a maniac," and something needed to be done about it. They ended up putting some sort of blanket that circulated heat over the top half of my body. I tried to look to see what exactly it was, but I was too tired to concentrate on it. 

The next thing I remember is hearing the doctor say that the cord was wrapped around his neck three times. The nurses repeated this information to each other in tones of shock, and so I knew it was bad. I also knew that I couldn't hear my baby making any noise. I was so tired I wasn't even sure if he had been born yet, but I very aware of the lack of crying. 

I heard the word NICU, I heard someone speaking to Spencer, and I was vaguely aware of the fact that he was leaving. Then I sat there, being stitched up on the operating table, not fully aware of the fact that my baby had just been born and I hadn't been able to see him. 

What happened next is Spencer's story to tell. He had to watch as our pale, silent, immobile baby was rushed from the room, as he had tubes attached and cuts made, as the NICU staff worked to make him breath, to make him live. He had to come back to the OR well after the alloted 30 minutes only to find out his wife was still in surgery, that there had been complications. He had to tell the family what had happened, and then repeat it to me after I had been returned to the room. He had to wait to find out if his wife and child were going to be okay without anyone there to help him through. 

Once I had come out of surgery and was a little more lucid, they wheeled me into the NICU to see my baby boy. When Spencer pointed to him as we entered, I just started to cry. I was so overcome with emotion at seeing my son for the first time. Also, I cried because it was harder on me than I ever thought it could be. 

Before anything else, I have say how lucky we are, and that I know how lucky we are. A five day stay in the NICU is almost nothing compared to some. Our baby was not premature. We were able to hold him the same day he was born. We were so blessed in so many ways to have such a quickly-recovering baby. 

But it was still hard. It still broke my heart to see my baby for the first time from a distance, to simply hold his little foot, tell him that I loved him, and then have to leave. It was impossibly hard to be a floor away recovering from surgery, not able to go see him, and have visitors come and tell me how much they enjoyed seeing him. It was impossible to feel like his mother when the nurses knew him better than I did. It was so frustrating to finally make it out of bed, into a wheelchair, and all the way upstairs only to be too exhausted to stand up and look at him because of all the blood I had lost in surgery. It was so sad to me not to be able to breast feed. 

It was so hard. 

Meeting my baby boy for the first time

Dad holding Carter for the first time

Mom holding Carter for the first time

And it continued to be hard. Breast feeding was a challenge that brought me to tears each time I tried. Feeling connected to my baby was hard. Coming to terms with having a hard time connecting was hard. All around I had a hard time, and I felt guilty because of it.

Things went slowly. Feeding is still hard and we are still working it out. But feeling connected to my little Carter? I couldn't love him more. It took a while for it to stop feeling like I was watching someone else's baby, like I was actually the mother. But when it came, it came fast and hard, and since that moment I have known without a doubt that this is my little boy, and that I would do anything for him.

My perfect little family. I love them with all of my heart. 

Baby story part 1

I knew I was pregnant before I actually knew I was pregnant. I woke up one morning feeling queazy and stopped by a gas station on my way to work for a sprite and some pretzels. One of our kitchen workers didn't think that was a sufficient breakfast so he brought me out a bowl of biscuits and gravy. It was a nice gesture, but it made me want to throw up. It was actually a little ridiculous how terrible it made me feel. So when one of the kindergarten teachers walked by and asked what was in the bowl, I practically threw it at her and begged her to eat it before the smell of it made me sick.

And so she knew, and I also knew, that I was pregnant.

It wasn't a surprise to me really. In fact, I had already taken two pregnancy tests earlier that month but they had both been inconclusive - no positive, no negative, just blank. So when I got home that night and the little plus sign appeared I didn't really feel an emotion, just validated. I sat there staring at this piece of confirmation wondering what it meant. Did that plus sign really mean I was going to have a baby? An infant-sized, breathing, heart-beating human baby? It definitely didn't click, but at the same time, all of me knew that it was true. I knew that my life had just changed forever, that I would never think about myself first ever again, that I would always have this little boy who would hold a part of my heart. I knew he was a boy from the moment I found out he existed, I never had any doubt. Spencer knew it too. 

Spencer was on a run when I found out. I frantically searched the internet for a good way to tell him we were going to be parents, but everything was sounding a little too cheesy and/or time consuming. There was no way I could go to bed knowing there was a tiny human inside of me and not tell Spencer until I had time to work out some elaborate plan. 

After he got home one of our neighbors brought over an invitation to their little boy's first birthday party. Spencer had been in the other room, so I went in and, in the grandest of announcements, said, "Benson's having a birthday . . . and we're having a baby!"

It's difficult to describe in writing something as monumental and special as your husband's reaction to finding out he's going to be a dad. It was such a surreal time, it's possible I've never seem him as happy as he was in that moment. He will be the best dad.

My sister bought us a diaper bag and I was at work when it arrived. I was so excited about it and texted spencer asking him to tell me everything! About 15 minutes later I hadn't gotten a reply and I figured he hadn't understood how serious my request had been, but then I got this video. It is longer than this, but my phone couldn't send the whole file so this is what you get. Love that boy.

We went in for an early ultrasound two weeks later to find out how many weeks I was - 8 - and heard his little heartbeat. They pointed to the smallest little dot on the screen and told me it was my baby. I just smiled and nodded because I definitely couldn't pick out the baby shaped white blur to save my life, but they gave me a due date and a heartbeat and I was so happy I could cry. 

The next 8 weeks were full of worry. I still had all of my pregnancy symptoms, but I couldn't feel baby move and I wasn't showing yet so I just had to take it on faith between appointments that he was still alive and well. I thoughtlessly ate a spoonful of cookie dough one night and just about died of worry. I was certain I had given my baby an extra head or a failing heart. Every time someone congratulated me on my pregnancy all I could think was, "I hope he is still alive." Morbid, right? It turns out mothers worry about their babies from day one.

The first purchase we made for baby. It was before anyone knew we were expecting
and I was worried someone would see us and know!

We told our families on Christmas - 10 weeks. We gave Spencer's parents a onesie saying "I love Grandma and Grandpa" and my parents a onesie that had a July calendar with the due date circled. There were tears and congratulations and happiness all around. This little baby is surrounded by so much love and he isn't even here yet.

At our ultrasounds we have learned that he loves to move. He is always on the go kicking and punching and turning all around. I have no doubt that he already has a totally unique personality, and I am so excited to see it in person. People always say that, how they are excited to meet their baby, and I guess I never understood it until now. I'm not just meeting a stranger, I'm meeting the little person who has been with me for the past nine months. I already know him and love him, and I am so excited to see him and hold him and witness his personality in action. 

DIY Elephant Clocks

Another look into my secret baby board:

via

I have this friend named Julie, she is pretty awesome. She cooks for us more than I do, she brought me ketchup flavored Pringles from Germany, she loves Harry Potter, and she is generally really cool. Julie is expecting a baby boy in October and I knew it was time for me to pay it forward. Or I guess pay it back. A while ago she found an adorable elephant lamp that would have matched her nursery perfectly, the down side was that it ran at about $50.00. Right, ok, college students have enough room in their budget to drop that kind of money on a lamp.

After she told me about the lamp I pulled up a picture of this elephant clock, which is adorable and amazing, but also runs at about $50.00. Not in the budget. But as I said above, Julie is amazing and I basically owe her my life, so I knew I needed to make some magic happen.

After thinking about it for a few days I had a plan. My parents own a small scroll saw, I have access to paint and a craft store to buy hands for a clock, I could make this happen. 

This idea came to me about two months ago, so naturally I didn't start working on it until the day before the baby shower. Some things never change. Luckily my parents/husband are awesome and the gave me some serious help. My dad drew out a version of the elephant on some extra wood he had, Spencer did most of the cutting, and various friends/old bosses helped with the paint, vinyl letters, and clock hands. 

I'm super proud of how it all turned out, and by how much money was saved by making it myself! So many times I feel like making things yourself is more work than it's worth, while in reality that has never been true for me. I love making my own things because they are so much more personal. They're usually not perfect, but that's what makes them yours. I'm so grateful to have so many amazing resources! It was one of those times when I realized how lucky I am to have lived in one place so long. I could never call up an old boss or use my parents for help if we lived somewhere else. I totally take that for granted, and I have to keep reminding myself that we won't be here for forever!

Anyway, returning to what we're talking about, here are pictures of the process!

At this point we lose a few steps of documentation because I may or may not have dropped my phone in the toilet . . . whoops! It's ok though, here's what you missed: I surreptitiously asked Julie what color she would want a new baby room decoration to be, then went to Hobby Lobby for paint and the clock parts. I just got enamel craft paint, it worked perfectly. Then I called my old boss and asked if he would be willing to print some vinyl for me. What a blessed resource. I typed up the numbers (font: MFT Toast) and got them in matte white. I didn't actually put the whole thing together until after I gave it to her at her shower. I wanted her to see the color and make sure she liked it before I put the vinyl on. I made my dad/Spencer do the math and use the protractor to figure out where the numbers went. The less math I have to do the better.

:) Happiness. May baby Tennyson love it as much as I do. 

Dishes and Selfies

I may or may not have mentioned this before, but our least favorite thing about our apartment is the lack of a dishwasher. I know, our lives are hard, first world problems, all that jazz. I feel especially lame complaining about dishes after talking to my dad about how he did dishes when he was little. Here's the thing, my parents are about a generation older than the average 22-year-old's parents. Like, my dad remembers the invention of the ball point pen. He was six. That being said, doing dishes in my dad's house growing up meant going out to the well to get water, which then had to be heated up to do the washing. After that they had to go get more water from the well to rinse the dishes off.

Right. You wonder how people spent their time before the internet? Now you know. Dishes. 

So the other day as Spencer and I were walking out the door to visit my sister, Spencer's brother Davis called to see if he could crash at our place and use the internet for a few hours. Of course. The only thing was that our apartment was a disaster zone and I was nothing short of embarrassed. But you guys, it turns out Davis is the best human. By the time we got home he was gone, but he had done our dishes before he left. 

What. a. gem. 

We decided to take a picture displaying our happiness to send his way. We took a series of selfies, resulting in the picture chain below:

Right. Let's talk about it. I decided to kiss Spencer's cheek the same time he decided to . . . bite my face?? and it resulted in this masterpiece. 

We entertain ourselves. 

I thought everyone hated me

I pulled out my phone yesterday morning to send a text to Spencer, but then I realized that I had sent the last nine in our conversation. Awkward. I decided to wait until he broke the chain. But as the day went on there were things I legitimately needed to tell him and he still hadn't sent me anything. I got over my pride and sent the 10th, 11th, and 12th texts in a row. Still no reply. I even told him that I had gotten a job interview knowing that he would reply with excitement, but my phone was still silent. Call me irrational, but I was a little annoyed. By the time I picked him up that night I was moody and mad that he had been ignoring my good news all day! But the first thing he said was, "have you gotten any of my texts today??"

. . . awkward. Turns out he was getting my texts and replying, they just weren't coming through.

So the next day at work my sister called, but I texted her to inform her that I couldn't answer. When she never replied, I realized that she hadn't replied to any of the texts I'd sent over the past few days. When I thought back I realized that no one who I had texted in the past 48 hours had responded. Ouch.

I did a little bit of critical thinking and realized that there might be an issue with my phone. I restarted it and proceeded to get six voicemails and about 48 texts in the next few minutes, they just kept coming!! One was from my sister asking if I could pick her up from the airport . . . my bad. I took these screenshots right after turning my phone back on, but that's only like half the texts that came flooding in.

I'm mostly posting this story for the memory of it, but also as a general apology for not responding to texts/voice mails. I know I'm not always the best at responding right away, but I'm not usually this bad! Let's forgive and forget, people. Forgive and forget.

Engagement Pictures

This is going to be such a short post that I am wondering if I should wait and combine it with something else, but I just cannot. As I was reading through my blog I came across the post where I talked about our engagement pictures. At the time Jennie had only posted a sneak peak on her photography blog, and I realized that I never actually gave the link to our actual pictures . . . oversight.

So here I am, eight months later, sharing the love :)

jennie rae photography

The biggest differences between Spencer and me

1. The way we watch TV

I have noticed that I am unique in my TV watching habits from a young age. I remember spending my days at the Perry's, occasionally finding ourselves scattered in front of the TV. Diana, being the oldest,  always had remote privileges. We would stop on one show and watch it until a commercial came on, then we would channel jump until she sensed it was time to go back. I was always amazed by her abilities to predict when commercial breaks would end. 

I have to admit, this process always gave me a bit of anxiety. I had liked what we were watching. What if she found something else she was more interested in and I never got the sappy message at the end of Full House? What if she turned back too late and I missed a funny post-commercial joke, or worse, a post-commercial plot twist? The possibilities were endless and terrifying. 

Do I have anxiety issues? Am I too lazy to hit buttons on the remote? Was I not blessed with the gift of discerning the length of commercial breaks? I may never know, but I definitely know that I never change the channel during the commercials. I even get a bit of anxiety when people fast-forward them on DVR. 

I know I'm weird because not only did the Perry family watch TV this way, but all of my roommates have watched TV this way. Whenever I've been watching with random people they watch this way. And Spencer? Spencer definitely watches this way. I worries me that I need to take a deeper look into TV watching habits. 

2. The way we make a PB&J

One morning in junior high I made a PB&J as my mother watched from a distance. When I was finished she chimed in, "well, I guess I'm the odd man out." I was thrown off, but she continued to inform me that I made my sandwich like my dad and like my mother's childhood friend, Marilyn. She said that she once watched Marilyn make a sandwich, spreading both the peanut butter and jelly out to the very edges of the bread before putting the pieces together. My mother watched this process in awe, wondering why she made her sandwiches so oddly. 

My mother, you see, did not spread the toppings to the very edge, nor did she spread them evenly over their respective pieces. It wasn't until she got married and noticed that my dad made his sandwiches like Marilyn, and when they had children and they said they liked Dad's sandwiches better, that she realized she was the odd-man out.

I haven't informed her yet, but I have found her a partner in crime. The first time Spencer made me a PB&J I looked at it in awe, wondering how someone could manage to make something so similar to the way my mother would do it. 

Life is happy

• 1 • 

We went to a pet store in search of a fish and I left my heart with a canary. Canaries have always been close to my heart, my brother had them when I was growing up. The closest thing to a pet I've ever had. We ended up getting a beautiful beta, not pictured because I am in the process of making a cuter background for his aquarium. 

• 2 • 

This is how we baseball. We played in a home run derby with some people in our ward and after a while we realized that the balls weren't getting hit to our side of the field so Spence took to a lawn chair. Please note: I hit two home runs. Don't be shocked or anything I'm super athletic. 

• 3 •

We love all things caprese and these were no different. Spence loved them when the bread was baked, but I loved them when the bread was fresh. But the bottom line is that they were delicious. 

• 4 •

This semester I had a group research project. We decided to look at paternal hostility and warmth in prime time television. The process included coding 10 hours of TV, writing research papers, and presenting our findings via a poster and presentation at a conference on campus. 

• 5 • 

Thrifting, baby. Provo finally got a decent thrift store and it was Spencer's first time. We hit gold and plan to visit again and again. Encore thrift store my friends, somewhere west of university ave. on center street. Go indulge yourselves. 

• 6 •

We finally stalked down the waffle truck, it was worth everything. I got the red wonder and I'm never ever looking back. Those babies made us cry of joy with each bite. 

p.s.

We also saw Jurassic Park in 3D and died of happiness. No pictures were taken.

The Top 2 Problems With the World

Number 1: This advertising 

The other night dinner was Taco Bell. No judgment. As we were leaving the parking lot I noticed this sign posted in the window:

I'm sorry, what? First of all, collect? No, you do not collect food, you eat it. Collecting something means you set it on a shelf or in a binder to pull out and show distant relatives. I'm pretty sure collecting food is called hoarding. Let's not. 

Second, two? Really? Collect all two? Is this like the beginner's guide to collecting? If stamps or coins are too intimidating you can start here! For just $1.39 each you can start your very own collection! Warning: collectors items left of the shelf too long may start to ferment. 

Number 2: This movie casting

If you haven't seen Saints and Soldiers then I am about to completely ruin it for you. Deacon dies. The main character, the one you come to love and care for, he dies. I was pretty bitter about it, and I wasn't excited to see number two. However, a few minutes after turning it on Spence and I were staring at the screen in disbelief. Right there, on our screen, was Deacon. But he wasn't Deacon, he was just the same actor playing a completely different character.

What? You guys, you just can't do that. That's like having Sirius Black come back in the 6th and 7th movies playing a death eater. "Wait, isn't that . . . ? Oh, no, I can see the dark mark on his arm. Must be someone else."

I'm no film professional or anything, but I'm pretty sure if you're making a sequel to a movie where the main character dies, you can't have the same actor play another character in the second movie. Yeah?

My life in pictures

I guess I just wonder if he realizes what will happen when the doors open...?

What we have here is false advertising. More like
"Picture of 80-year-old Latino woman next to a 20 year old white girl."

I bought Spencer a remote control helicopter for Christmas. He's been pretty good at getting it to fly around the apartment, and this morning as I was sitting on the couch the helicopter flew out of the bedroom and over to where I was sitting with said message attached. It was amazing and hilarious.

What we have here is a little thing called "Sadie trying to put off her paper."
Thanks for letting me procrastinate with you.

Two Years ago Today

Maybe it's the fact that Jennie is currently in there, or maybe it's just cause I really miss being tan. Either way, I am super missing Galilee right now and I would give anything to skip back two years and spend another weak or two on those beaches.

Ok so this is a rough jumping picture, but I miss it nonetheless.

That one time Katie's skirt kept flying up in the wind so our professor let her borrow his hoodie.

Beauty.

I am wearing this same shirt today. It wasn't intentional, but I am now claiming that it is in remembrance of this glorious day.

*snif* my heart hurts a little bit right now.

Stalker photo of husband and me taken by Ashley.

10 points to the person who A) gets me back there or B) finds me a beach.

Catch Up

Day 14: Heart

Breakfast for Valentine's dinner. It's kind of our thing.

If this pancake doesn't look like a heart I don't know what does.

Day 15: Phone

Screen capture of my lock screen. That there is my Husband. Here is another story about him because he said, and I quote, "You can blog about me if you want."

This is a conversation we had today:

Spencer: "Let's do something fun."

Sadie: "Ok. Mini Golf."

Spencer: "I was thinking the dishes."

Here is another story because he was afraid that one made him sound lame.

Once when we were in Jerusalem I was real sick so I didn't go to class. Spence noticed my absence, inquired after my sickness, and went out to buy me some coke for my stomach and candy for my sanity. He is pretty nice.

Day 16: Something New

New ID card, new hair color, new last name. Boom.

Have you eaten your rice today?

Day 11: Makes Me Happy

You can set up a feature on your iPhone that automatically changes something you write into something else. I figure it's purpose is to make it easier and faster to say things you say a lot. For example, were I always texting people "running late, be there in 5" it would be convenient to set my phone to change "rlbti" to say the previous statement. 

I first discovered this feature while playing with Spencer's phone and I knew I had to have some fun with it. I set his phone to change the word "ok" to say "have you eaten your rice today?"

I was sure he would notice it before sending a text to anyone and presumably would be confused until I confessed.

But it turns out he was sending a text in a hurry and did not notice the change until the recipient inquired after it. 

We had a good laugh about it, and this is still one of my favorite Spencer stories.

This guy. This guy in all his Newsie's cap glory. This is what makes me happy. 

Andrew Bates.

I guess Spencer's roommate was offended that I didn't mention him when I told mine and Spencer's story or something.

Drama queen. 

Jk. Andrew is the furthest thing from lame and the closest thing to cool. Also, Andrew's mom is an identical triplet, so let that blow your mind for a minute. 

When in Jerusalem I sent a friend request Andrew's way and a quick little message about how I had heard awesome things about him. His response was brilliant, and I promise you will love it:

Sadie, once again another person has been duped by the great Spencer Esplin. Ironically, lying about how cool I was in high School is the only misdeed Spencer Esplin has ever committed, outside of that he is perfect. Let me share a few facts about why Spencer Esplin was, is, and ever will be the coolest kid ever. Fact: Spencer Esplin was elected Prom king our junior year. Fact: In ward council Spencer Esplin was voted kindest person in the ward. Fact: Every time I see Danny Ritter (our across the hall neighbor) He tells me how much he misses Spencer. Fact: Spencer Esplin looks like Jesse Mccartney. Fact: Spencer Esplin has more humility than everyone on the Australian continent combined (according to a 2008 gallup poll). Fact: one night when we were rooming together an angel came down and told Spencer Esplin he was being taken up to heaven, while ascending I grabbed onto Spencer Esplin pulling him back down to the ground and the angel flew away. Fact: nine out of ten dentists chose Spencer Esplin over any leading toothpastes. Fact: Spencer once chased down a criminal who stole an ipod and brought him to justice. Fact: Spencer Esplin is loved by everyone he meets. 

I hope this has shed some light on the situation, the reason people liked me in high school was because most of the time I was within 10 feet of Spencer and people just got confused. Anyway, I am excited to embark on a deep and meaningful friendship on Facebook! Hope all is going well in Jerusalem!

I hope he is not bothered by me sharing this. Andrew, you rock. In closing, I would like to credit Andrew Bates with every good thing that has ever happened to me. 

Engagement Pictures

Camera shy doesn't even begin to describe it.

I honestly fear having my picture taken. I try to hide behind the tallest person, pull out an over-sized hat, or, better yet, offer to take the picture.

All things considered,  I guess you could say that engagement pictures were my worst fear. So much pressure. You mean we're sending one of these out to how many people?? I wanted to die.

I almost did die. You guys, my wardrobe hated me. My hair hated me. My face hated me. The super awesome jeans I had bought specifically to look awesome in pictures no longer looked awesome. 

My dearest roommate Jennie is an amazing photographer, so we grabbed her for engagements and bridals. The best part of this is that Jennie and I both have super chill, do-things-when-you-feel-like-it personalities, so with this flexible schedule, I had managed to put off the pictures twice before, and I was borderline trying to do it a third time.

Luckily a quick swap of under-shirts and a pep-talk from the photographer herself fixed things, and I managed to pull myself together.

And I prayed. You guys, I actually prayed. I was so nervous about being in front of a camera.

But I needn't have feared. Everything went perfectly. We came across the most random and beautiful locations. The colors were amazing. Spencer was awesome. Jennie was awesome.

I am super excited to be able to share the pictures with you, but for now you'll have to be content with a peak at my ring :)

Click here for happiness.

First Impressions are Rarely Correct

Scene: January 4th, 2011. Salt Lake International, 4am: I'm not a morning person, and I'm not an extrovert. So meeting the 80  people I would be living with for 4 months in a foreign country at 4 in the morning was not my ideal situation. I remember feeling so awkward. It was pretty obvious looking around the security line who belonged to our group. We would make momentary eye contact, smile awkwardly, and look away in search of something else to stare at. I remember a few specific thoughts about specific people. Girl with unicorn pillow pet: awesome. Future roommate with candy canes: weird. Boy with ukelele: lady charmer. I mean, right? Bringing a ukelele on the plane to Jerusalem is like pulling out your guitar at a college party and playing Wonderwall. By the time we had boarded the plane I had forgotten about the ladies man with the uke, and I only remembered my initial impression when I saw this picture at the end of the program:

Ashley Crist Photography

He was funny. He was good with people. Our professor's five-year-old daughter was literally in love with him. Everyone was in love with Spencer.

I guess if I was going to make a recommendation, I would recommend going to Jerusalem. It's pretty cool cause you get to know people differently than in any other situation. You do everything together. Meals, school, church, study, travel, play. You see what a person is like when they first wake up, how they handle an eight hour bus ride, how they cope when they're sick on said bus ride. You ride camels together, climb mountains together, and survive overnight train rides together.

And then when you come home, you have someone who understands how much you miss it. And you guys, I really missed it. But he was always there to eat pita and nutella or watch our slideshow with me. It turns out really getting to know each other was easier without 80 other people living in the same building, and without the "rule of three" each time you left the grounds.

There were rough times, like the time he went to Brazil for a 1.5 month internship, or the time I went on a Buddhist-style "finding myself" craze and didn't have any idea what I wanted out of life. But he came back to the States, and I came back to myself, and all was good.

We avoided dances, studied, and saw the Bieber movie together. Don't judge, entertainment can be hard to find in Provo. There were comedy shows, concerts, and movies with his sisters. Sunday dinners, ice cream runs, and breakfasts left on the doorstep. Hot chocolate, Friday night activities, and lots of sleeping through movies. There were flowers, chocolates, and gifted books. There were inside jokes and shared glances. Hopes, dreams, and goals. There were carnival goldfish, attempted celebrity stalkings, and canyon drives.

There were also lots of questions. Haven't you been dating more than a year? Shouldn't you have 12 kids by now? All in good time, my friends.

We also dedicated a good amount of time to finding our favorite restaurants. What can I say, we like to eat. Most often we end up at Gloria's, where they have the best pasta ever. This past weekend we found ourselves once again in the small corner restaurant ordering our regular meals, expect Spencer who ordered the world's most disgusting drink. Our waiter even warned us; he said it tasted like bitter grapefruit meets cough syrup. It was the perfect description. But Spencer downed the stuff like a champ and we were off to a movie in the park with some friends. Turns out there was no movie, there were no friends. Instead there were some roses, and a ring :)

Turns out the boy with the uke was a little more than the typical lady charmer. Turns out he's actually pretty cool. So I guess I'll marry him on, I don't know, December 15th?

:)