Monday, October 31, 2011


Don't cry, it's only a blog post.

Stephen and I have decided to pass on any real holiday celebrations this year. We really look forward to to putting a ten-month old in some adorable costume next year, but feel very little desire to make any effort this October 31. So while Stephen is home studying,  I'm in Utah for a couple days. If you're a Utah resident, I love you and I want to see you, but I want to see you over Thanksgiving or Christmas when I have more than two minutes to spend with you.

It turns out that air travel is a complete faisco no matter how short the flight. Turns out that even if you're flying for fifty minutes from Denver to Provo, and even if you're 7 months pregnant and unable to bend over, you still have to take off your boots to go through security. Yes, it takes ten minutes to take them off, and another ten to put them back on. However, if 7 months pregnant, you do not have to go through the full body scan, though I like to think that Ivy would have waved to the good folks of TSA.

There's that moment when, after you've heard your fellow passenger's complete life story, you realize that there's thirty minutes left in the flight you have nothing left to ask or say. You stare out the window, pretending to take in the grandeur, but instead really focusing on the smudged glass and wondering what disgusting human caused it. You pull out your mobile electronic device and act like trying to beat solitaire is the most important thing you've ever done. You occasionally say "I hope we land soon," or "I wish they gave us more than half a drink," and then fall back into silence. You wonder, "Am I completely incapable of human interaction?", "Am I as awkward as I fear?", "Yes. I am," you decide and sip your gingerale in horror.
Happy Halloween!

Friday, October 28, 2011

allergic to chestnuts and good haircuts

Oh, internet.

Thursday, October 27, 2011

Pictured below is my aunt Shauni with her family:

Shauni is young, beautiful, the mother to all four of those children, and today she's going through her sixth and final chemotherapy treatment.

I doubt that anyone, when making goals says to themselves, "I'd really like to go through chemo." We do things like run marathons and swim accross channels to push ourselves mentally and physically and to find our limits. Yet I don't think there's anything more limit revealing or taxing on a body than what Shauni's gone through these past long months. And while it's not anything any of us would ever willingly sign up for, she's handled it with all the strength and endurance of a champion.

It's terrible and shocking that a young, beautiful mother of four young children can get breast cancer. But I hope that after today Shauni can feel a little bit proud. She's done what even the fastest runner or strongest swimmer would be afraid to, and she deserves a medal.

Wednesday, October 26, 2011

i really can't stay

Season's Greetings from Colorado!

At last, the white Halloween we've all been dreaming of. This premature snow fall is actually easing my guilt about the lack of autumny decor up in here. The only Fallish thing I've done is buy a bag of candy corn and pour it into a bowl. Since I'm the only member of the Walter household who eats candy, it's me v. the candy corn as I attempt to guage how long it should take a normal person to consume an entire bag. 3 days?

Baby Ivy is due three months from today. Last night she got so excited about her arrival that she started hiccupping. Ok. Fine. I'm projecting emotions onto a fetus. But I promise it's better than the truth. The truth is that she swallowed too much amniotic fluid. See? Gross.

Tuesday, October 25, 2011

first you're worried, then you're hurried

I had some time on my hands, so I decided to take a walk and photograph the changing leaves in our neighborhood. Ollie and I meandered down the road, stopping now and again to shoot a tree. After pausing at one especially vibrant deciduous, I glanced behind me and saw a very looking nervous mother sitting in a parked mini-van. She was staring directly at me. I've never considered myself to be particularly threatening looking, but I guess to her the image of a predator is a pony-tailed pregnant woman walking a miniature schnauzer. I quickly walked away, and seconds later looked back to see her dart into her house. I came home a little embarrassed and told Stephen all about it. As is often the case, he had a very different interpretation. "Well there was obviously something in her house that she didn't want you to see," he said. "Probably a dead body," I added, letting my imagination run a bit wild. I both like and dislike Stephen's approach. I like that it means I'm less likely to show up on America's Most Wanted. I dislike that it means a hit man is more likely to show up at my door.
Anyway, here's the photo that may get me arrested/killed.

Probably not worth it.

Monday, October 24, 2011

I got a box full of your toys

Morley clan - Nick + Stephen showing off new throw pillows.

My family was here for a visit over the weekend, and because I'm so good at planning activities everyone will enjoy, we went stroller shopping. Last week I met Heidi Klum's twin. Probably not Heidi's actual twin, but she could make a big load of money claiming to be her sibling and selling all sorts of scandalous tales to tabloids. She even had the german accent. Anyway, she was pushing the stroller I was considering, and I asked her how she likes it. While she replied "I loooooooooove it, it turns on a dime," I thought to myself, "If I have this stroller I will look like this woman and my children will be little Klum children and someday I will host Project Runway. I must have this stroller." So while test pushing the various strolling options at the baby boutique, I found myself saying "Look! It turns on a dime!" I bet the stroller company hires beautiful women to push beautiful children in awesome strollers around Boulder. And if so, well done stroller company. It totally works.

We also met this guy:

Friday, October 21, 2011

but you

"No more blogging about poop!"
-My parents

Thursday, October 20, 2011

said the joker to the thief

There are many benefits to working at home. There is also, however a downside. Every so often I catch a touch of cabin fever and it becomes imperative to get out of the apartment. Where do I go? I go to Target. I mean, I live in Longmont. There aren't a ton of destinations, and our Super Target never fails to live up to its name. My only complaint is that sometimes the front half of the store smells faintly of poop. It's not unbearable, but it does evoke a rather unpleasant memory. Years ago I worked as a bagger at Harmon's grocer. Part of my duties included the occasional janitorial work, i.e. taking out the trash and tidying the bathrooms. For a long time it was never anything worse than cleaning up an ice cream spill on aisle 19. But then one day, while I was enjoying my diet coke in the break room, our manager crackled over the intercom, "Meg, there's been an accident in the Men's restroom that we need you to clean up." I knew that could only mean one thing and that something terribly ugly awaited in a bathroom stall. I didn't move for five minutes. I considered quitting. Then I considered faking my own death. Then I decided to just get it over with. Because I love you, I'll spare you the details. I will say that to this day I have no idea how it could have been physically possible to make a mess like that. Disguisting doesn't even begin to describe it. And I cleaned it all. I didn't quit. I didn't improvise a cardiac arrest.  I dare say I'm a stronger person for it today. Not that I don't pity whoever has to clean the Target restroom.

Wednesday, October 19, 2011


They said it couldn't be done. That I, a female speciman who never made it more than half-way through her lego kits or origami books, could never assemble a full changing table by herself.

Well, WHAT NOW HATERS?!(not sure what punctuation is appropriate here).
Take a look at this fine craftsmanship:

One hour of Wait Wait Don't Tell Me and five pages of instruction, and BLAMO! I made furniture.

Meg: 1,000,000 points
Doubters: 0 points

In all fairness, Stephen was both willing and able to put this together, but I knew in my heart of hearts it was something that I needed to do. In the words of Roz from Frasier, "I love a challenge."

Tuesday, October 18, 2011

i'm a lot like you

Stephen: "You have flour on your shirt"
Me: "Where?"
Stephen: "The bottom of your shirt" (watches me search)...
Stephen: "You can't see the bottom of your shirt, can you?"
Me: "No."

No, I can't. I can't see anything beyond the mound that is my torso. That makes 7/8 of my body vulnerable to kick-me signs, and while I'd like to believe that no one would kick a pregnant woman, I've been wrong before. I'm scared.

Also, sometimes Ollie dresses like an ewok:

Monday, October 17, 2011

I got a brand new pair of roller skates

I feel like I'm letting down the youth of America/my generation by not occupying Wall Street, or any other street, so we had some friends over and held our own OCCUPY LONGMONT. And by occupy Longmont, I mean we occupied our condo in Longmont.

Gregg, Rachael, Stephen, Ollie, Jon, Growlbert and Allyson are sick and tired of the greed.

Our protest included some seriously rebellious activities like playing with puppies and eating ice cream. We really stuck it to the corporations by paying for parking and dining at no less than four resturaunts. That'll show em.

The weekend included what I assume are some actual similarities to the Occupy movement, like a high person to bathroom ratio. Maybe the similarities end there. I don't know much about what is really going on at these protests.

Thursday, October 13, 2011

where'd you park the car?

I've really resisted the urge to make an Alien pregnancy comparison, but a girl can only hold out for so long. You knew it was coming.
Pregancy is three parts wondrous/awe-inspiring/miraculous, and one part science fiction.
Sometimes I'm legitimately startled to see my abdomen bouncing up and down or feel a tiny arm in my ribs. I half expect to be sitting at dinner with all my astronaut friends in our spaceship when suddenly baby will punch her way through my stomache and make a surprise appearance. Sigourney Weaver will be alarmed.
It doesn't help that as a child I believed babies came out through the belly button. And really, the truth isn't any less weird.

The good news is that not matter what Ivy looks like, she's bound to be cuter than this:


Wednesday, October 12, 2011

and so is lola

The receptionist in the waiting room has a bowl of peanut m&ms sitting on the sign-in desk, free for the taking. I love me some peanut m&ms, but partaking from the bowl of unwrapped candy that is exposed to the same oxygen as Longmont Clinic, well I just don't feel great about that. I don't consider myself a germ freak since I'm a strong believer in the ten second rule (or 15 second, or 20 second, or 5 minute rule). I've never been a big produce washer, and I only do it now because I'm pregnant. I generally believe what doesn't kill you makes you stronger (drugs aside). But medical facilities freak me out. I mean urine samples are passed around like pokemon cards. Just not great conditions for m&m consumption. And yet I watched jealously as a nurse walked past the sign-in desk, grabbed two candy coated chocolate peanut delights, and popped them in her mouth. I bet she didn't even think twice. How brave.

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

sunshine superman

Why we can never have a pet duck:

It's dead.

Before we brought Ollie home from the breeder's, we brought him a toy duck that had been hanging out in our apartment so Ollie would grow accustomed to our smell. It has long since been his favorite toy. We can ask, "Where's your duck?" and he'll immediately find it and bring it to us. Ollie has destroyed many many toys. He's not satisfied until the plastic is shredded into 576 pieces all over the floor and all the insides are on the outside. But he always left the duck alone, showing it respect he hadn't shown any of his other belongings. Until yesterday. Yesterday he viciously ripped apart the feet, the wings, the head, and pulled the squeaker (the heart) out and ran around proudly squeaking what was once the life of his beloved friend. Let's all pray Ollie knows the difference between plush toys and infants.

Why my husband is thin:

Stephen's breakfast, left in the toaster.

Who just forgets to eat?! I remember watching Oprah and some healthcare professional asked a group of the morbidly obese "Are you eating to live, or living to eat?" I immediately answered, outloud, at the television "Living to eat!" Apparently that's not great. Whatever. Food is awesome. I read recipes for fun. While eating one meal, I'm planning my next meal. The highlight of any vacation, in my opinion, is the eating out. But Stephen? Stephen is barely eating to live. Food just isn't his thing. What a bleak world that must be.

Monday, October 10, 2011

pumped up kicks

I'm pretty obviously pregnant. No baggy sweater can hide the bump at this point, so people have started asking about it. Timidly they approach and enquire, "Are you expecting?". For a split second before I respond their faces flash with a look of sheer terror and I know that they're thinking "Oh no. What if she's not? Please say yes." And during that same split second I always think how hilarious it would be to say "No" and then provide no explanation. But like most hilarious things, it probably wouldn't be very nice.

Speaking of very nice, I want to thank you. All of you who read this blog. There aren't many of you, and yet you make me feel like this small piece of the internet matters in some small way. I love your comments. I'm flattered when you share links on facebook. I love receiving your emails. The world wide web can be such a mean place sometimes, and yet you've never made me feel anything but loved. It's hard to express appreciation with a blog. I don't konw if anyone ever checks back on comments, and I'm just not techno savvy enough to reach out to you. But I love you. Thanks for the suppoert.

Thursday, October 6, 2011

law is pretty clear


Baby Ivy is growing like a weed. Hahahahahaha. That joke will for sure never get old.
I think she's bored. I often feel her hit the same place repeatedly, like she's banging her head against the wall in frustration, or pounding her fist and yelling "Let me out!"

How am I? I'm huge. And maybe freaking out a little bit. Fine, a lot bit. I keep having I'm Going To Be The Worst Mother Ever realizations. Like yesterday I realized we don't own a thermometer. Or a first aid kit. Or even band-aids. And I never buy milk. Or snacks. Kids need snacks, right? I'm so not ready for this. Not to mention my fear of birthing. When I read the results of the pregnancy test, I had two thoughts: 1. BABY!!!! 2. Holy Flaming Robots, I'll have to give birth. I've tried not to think too much about it since then, but we're at T minus sixteen weeks, and it's a thought that's getting harder to ignore.

I do my best to calm my fears by nesting. Nesting like a mad woman. Seriously, If a mother robin and I had a nest off, I would totally win.

Here's the latest addition to Baby Room.

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

it tastes just like coca cola

Maybe you're still not convinced that a visit to the Walters would be an ideal vacation. I guess you don't trust me. But maybe you'll trust Amelia Largey, our most recent guest.

In a glowing review of her time spent here, Amelia said, "The local Safeway was surprisingly clean. The couch was very white. The air mattress was inflated, most of the time. The bathroom has a lock on the door. We ate."

We made sure to provide Amelia with all sorts of excitement. Ollie developed a severe crush and wouldn't go to sleep at night without giving her a kiss. Actually, he wouldn't go five minutes without trying to smother her with kisses. We got lost and drove half-way to Colorado Springs. We got lost driving to the mall. We ran out of the gas on the way to the airport, and she learned what it means to run and catch a flight. See? It's awesome here.

But the real highlight for me was our trip to the Denver Zoo. Two, childless grown women went to the zoo.

The resemblance between me and the mother hippo in this photo is uncanny.

We skipped the wussy hoofed animals and headed straight for Predator Ridge. There's nothing like being two feet away from a hungry male lion, or staring into the eyes of a discontent gorilla. It's such a thrill to be so close to a creature who could kill you in seconds. I love that thrill. That's why I own such a ferocious pet:

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

i bet you think that's pretty clever, don't you boy?

I'm trying to be more womanly. I'm also trying to be more frugal. The combination of the two led to yesterday's decision to wax my own eyebrows. I was suprisingly successful in removing stray eyebrow hairs. I was also successful in removing forehead. As in the skin. So today there is a rather unsightly red line over my right eye. It will probably fade, but if it doesn't it won't be the worst thing. In fact I think it might be advantageous in the future. In my later years I plan on turning crazy. Depending on my place of residence at that time, it's possible that I won't be the only cooky old bat in town, so a minor facial deformation will help set me apart. That way when the scared residents holding pitchforks speak in hushed tones of That Woman, they can modify and clarify by saying That Woman With The EyeBrow Waxing Scar, as to differentiate between That Woman With All The Cats or That Woman Who Thinks Corn Stalks Are People. Though I guess it is possible that I'll be all three of those women at once.

Monday, October 3, 2011

zoom zoom zoom

A neighbor boy who can't be more than five years old came zooming toward us on his bike. He stopped abruptly and asked, "Can I pet your dog?"
After a few seconds of being attacked with Ollie kisses, neighbor boy said,
"My dog has way worse breath because she eats our other dog's poop and her own poop."

So, I guess we've got that going for us.