Officially Terrible

I'm seriously considering posting the following letter on the door of my surrounding neighbors.

"Hey Neighbor!
I'm Meg. My family and I just moved into Apartment _____. You may not have seen us yet, but chances are, you've heard us, which is precisely why I've sent you this note. I would just like to make it very clear that I am not routinely beating my child. While she screams like she's being pummeled to the edge of death, I can assure you that this is merely her new and super fun way of reacting to minor offenses which often include:

-Crust on her sandwich
-Cheese peeking out the edge of her quesadilla
-Milk in a sippy cup instead of a bottle
-Being told it's time for bed
-Being told it's time for a nap
-PBS playing the wrong episode of Dinosaur Train
-Bath time ending too soon
-Bath time starting too soon
-Diaper changes
-Wearing pants
-Wearing shoes
-Being offered strawberries
-Being offered cookies
-Someone trying to pick up her toys in the living room
-Being awake
-Being asleep
-Being at Target
-Being at any retail establishment where people will look at a screaming child and harshly judge its mother
-Being at any retail establishment that a child's mother must routinely visit in order to feed her family
-Being at any retail establishment that a child's mother thought would be a fun place to visit
-Wanting a balloon
-Losing a balloon
-Being asked if she needs to use the potty
-Being told the potty is not a toy
-Just living life in general

I'm just as baffled as you are, neighbor. Up to this point my kid has been a mild one, but it seems she's decided to let her toddler flag fly. It could be our recent move. It could be the cold she's been fighting for the past two weeks. Or she could just be two. Regardless, please do not call the authorities the next time you hear what sounds like major distress, and please let me know if I can buy you a pair of earplugs.

Warmly,
Meg"

Not Dead

Hi.
Big news! Stephen joined a cult was accepted to Hogwarts became a Founding Fathers impersonator graduated! That hat though, I mean, right? Why?!

There's not much to say except I'm really proud of him, and really glad it's over.

Also, we're Utahns now (again)! We put Phil, Mary, Brad and Carey (Stephen's parents and my parents, respectively) to work hauling boxes over graduation weekend. It's a good thing the parents showed up because I had reached the point in packing where "Let's just set this place on fire" felt like a totally rational thought. Thanks for saving me from life in prison on arson charges, family.  

The lot of us caravanned to Salt Lake and unloaded the U-Haul into our new Cottonwood Heights apartment. Our place is nice and clean, but short on storage. I hope to someday build a house made entirely of storage space. I'm thinking 72 closets, each with 14 shelves. Maybe then I won't have to pile mixing bowls, board games and winter coats into the same space. We all have dreams. But for now the reality is making three separate trips to Target for organization bins and shoe racks. $300 on my Red Card later and we're pretty much moved in. 

We've killed six spiders so far. Well, Stephen killed five massive, possibly deadly spiders, and I killed a baby spider that may actually have been an ant. I guess easy entry for bugs is the downside to ground floor living. The upside is not having to carry a gallon of milk, six grocery bags and a two-year-old up a flight of concrete stairs. The other upside is no downstairs neighbors, and no guilt when I drop something or vacuum at midnight or throw a dance party for the first time in my life. 

Now, the biggest news of all: It's been two weeks since my last Diet Coke. I feel tired and not as new woman-y as I had hoped. I guess I thought that once I let go of my beloved cans, I would be awash in a healthy glow and full of natural energy. Instead I'm fighting a losing battle against the 2:30 sleepies and wondering when days got so long. Sure, some of the fatigue may be due to a week spent moving and a toddler who no longer takes naps (pray for me), but I don't remember being this wiped in a long time. Also, I just plain miss the taste of Diet Coke. So really I don't know how much longer I'll last before jumping off this wagon. Now if you'll excuse me, I need a nap. 

Dark Days

I'm on my second day without Diet Coke and I feel...

I mean, I'm better than I was yesterday. Yesterday was apocalyptic. Yesterday was also mine and Stephen's fourth wedding anniversary. I'm just the kind of exemplary wife who decides to make a drastic life change on the day that should be devoted to celebrations of love. But honestly, Stephen is in the middle of finals so the night promised little romance to begin with.

Anyway. Why would I give up something I love? And I do love Diet Coke. I love Diet Coke. I do not, however, love what it is most likely doing to me, my heart, and my bones. This is admittedly my own fault. Moderation is a concept lost on me. And at the risk of sounding dramatic, I think I have an addictive personality. I can't have just one delicious, frothy, cold beverage a day. I have five. And while one can a day may not have dire health consequences, five very well might. Also, I could buy much nicer shoes with the money I'm spending on twelve-packs. Also also, I had taken to calling the drink "Mommy's Go-Go Juice" which places me in the same realm of class as Honey Boo Boo. Unacceptable.

So here we are.

Day 2.

Yesterday I went to bed at 9:30 to sleep off the migraine. I had three carbonated waters to fill the void, and six tylenol to help take the edge off the anvil bouncing around in my skull. If I moved my head too suddenly, I yelped in pain. I resisted the urge to vomit all night. But I think that was the worst of it.

Today my head isn't so much screaming as murmuring. I had eggs for breakfast in the hopes that protein would provide the energy caffeine once did. I'm moving a little slower than normal, but I haven't passed out yet. Honestly, I don't really miss it so far. But it is only day two, and I haven't faced a plate of tacos, or an early morning with a baby, or any other situation that in my previous 15 years would make Diet Coke an absolute necessity. 

We'll see how I fare in the coming weeks. Wish me luck...

Happy...Thursday!

Tomorrow we're driving to Utah for the millionth time which means I'll be spending most of the day in Wyoming which means it will not be a Happy Friday. So let's all enjoy this video together today.

Someone probably called the police when they saw me taking pictures from my balcony.

You know how your hair always looks awesome the day before you get it cut? That's my life right now but the hair is Colorado and the cut is moving to Utah. I mean sure, most places are spectacular in the spring, and most places would be hard to leave in early May. But the fresh blossoms, green grass, and warm temps are only part of what's making it difficult to depart.

Why you gotta be so lovely, tree?

Three years is just long enough to become attached to a place, and I'm getting weirdly sentimental about saying goodbye to my favorite grocery store, restaurants, etc. 

I even got a little teary-eyed walking out of my annual doctor's appointment. When we moved here in the middle of a pregnancy and I didn't really know anyone or have anywhere to go, I looked forward to my weekly appointment as though it was a gathering with friends. In fact I forced the receptionists, nurses and doctor to be my friends, sometimes staying for an hour or more chatting.

I bought $250 worth of merchandise at my favorite fabric shop and made the cashier promise that they would start selling online.

I feel like I need to explain to the owner of our favorite Thai place that we're moving, and that we would continue to eat there weekly for the rest of our lives if we could. 

But we can't. We can't survive on my part-time freelance income, and it would kill Edith, or maybe Edith would kill us, if we stayed. One hott hair day does not mean you should never cut your hair again. That's disgusting. And so is the smell of Edith's smoking that seeps in through our air vents. So it's goodbye, Colorado. Thanks for being awesome today. 

Warning: Holiday Recap Post

Our Easter probably wasn't as religious as it should have been. I never even cracked open the New Testament. But there's something magical, and dare I say spiritual, about watching a tiny child enjoy a holiday. And that's exactly what we did all day. 

Ivy, arguably the luckiest kid in the world, participated in two different egg hunts. The first graciously hosted by our Colorado family, my aunt, uncle and cousins, who all helped Ivy gather so many plastic eggs that her basket became too heavy to carry. 

Ivy and Ollie on the hunt

The second also graciously hosted by our neighbors and fellow ward members, who let us use their pet bunny for an iphone photo shoot. Someday I'll remember to take my actual camera places and this blog will become a real blog. Someday. 

Ivy played with other kids until the sun went down and the weather turned cold. We went home and she said "chocolate!" over and over before crashing and falling asleep.

Again, I probably should have mentioned Jesus and the resurrection at some point during the day, and I should have been on time to Stake Conference instead of showing up an hour late, but in the end my family spent a long, happy, special day together, and that has to count for something, right?

Do you even go to this school?

Last night I was in a pretty terrible mood. I hate to vague post, but it's a boring story and I don't want to waste your precious blog reading time. All that matters is that I was sad and grouchy, and Stephen know there is only one sure-fire way to lift my spirits. Turn on Mean Girls. So he did. I instantly felt better.

Mean Girls is streaming on Netflix. Go watch it 200 times. Or just watch this clip 1,000 times. It's the greatest two minutes in cinematic history.

Happy Friday, friends. May Tina Fey be your spirit animal like she is mine.