BEEP, BEEP. WAH, WAH.

Growing up, kids my age went through a variety of 'must-have' crazes. There was the year of the Skip-It, Pokemon trading cards, gel pens, pogs and trick yo-yos to name a few.

But perhaps the most memorable/favorite toy peer-pressured purchase of adolescence was my yellow kitty Giga Pet. After jealously watching my BFs with their adorable little pixelated monkeys and puppies, I couldn't wait to play mommy to my own little digital baby.

I'm sure I spent that entire first day with my eyes glued to the screen. Feeding her little fish heads, playing with the yarn ball, giving her medicine, putting her to sleep, etc., etc., etc. By that first night, I was convinced that I was the best virtual pet parent the world had ever seen.

Lovingly, I placed her on the shelf above my bed, already excited to get her out again in the morning and show her off to my friends. Smiling, I nestled in and started to drift when..

"BEEP."

My eyes popped open. "Huh, she must not be sleepy yet. Better check on her." Apparently kitty still wanted to play. "Go to sleep", I told her.

Convinced that was the end of that, I settled down again, ready for an un-interrupted 8-hours of dreamy bliss before school the next day.

"BEEP." I pretended it hadn't happened. You know, cry-it-out method. "BEEP. BEEP."

A hint of concern crept into the corner of my mind. Why was she still beeping at me?? Once again, I patiently activated her screen to find that she was dancing around a steaming Hershey kiss. So as any good parent would, I begrudgingly cleaned up her mess, determined that this HAD to be the end of it.

I once again laid back down, with the covers wrapped a little more tightly around my ears perhaps, and made it a full five minutes before.. "BEEEEEP."

Frantically, I sat-up. And did what any other loving mother would do: started bawling.

It didn't take long for my own mother to arrive on the scene (quite confusedly, I'm sure) and eventually deduce my hysterics stemmed from a new toy that 'WOULD NOT LEAVE ME ALONE AND WOULDN'T STOP BEEPING ALREADY!'

"For goodness sakes!" she responded, "Don't leave it by your bed at night then!"

"Oh.." I instantly calmed. "Why didn't I think of that?"

Fast-forward 15 years, and I'm a new mom to a brand-spanking-new little 7 lb. 15 oz. ball of adorableness. I had loved being pregnant, feeling all of her little kicks and wiggles and constantly carrying around my little best friend with me.

And my delivery had been wonderful, with the nurses insisting that I 'had to be at least a 1 or a 2 on a pain scale of 10' when I insisted that I was really a 0.

So there I sat in our little hospital room, once the visitors had subsided and the day had become night. I knew exactly what to do. I had been labeled the baby whisperer repeatedly over the preceding decade or so. I couldn't count the number of times I had played 'mom' to my 20+ nieces and nephews, and there wasn't a one of them that I couldn't calm to sleep within minutes.

I cradled my sweet baby (still so surreal to say), nursed her to sleep and lovingly placed her in her plastic, inclined nursery bassinet, already excited to get her out again in the morning and show her off to my friends. Smiling, I nestled in and started to drift when..

"WAH."

My eyes popped open. "Huh, she must not be sleepy yet. Better check on her." Apparently Tiny still wanted to play. "Go to sleep", I told her.

Convinced that was the end of that, I settled down again, ready for an un-interrupted 4-5 hours of dreamy bliss before she needed to eat again.

"WAH. WAH-WAH"

A hint of concern crept into the corner of my mind. Why was she still crying at me?? Once again, I patiently re-swaddled, bounced and carefully deposited her in her cradle, determined that this HAD to be the end of it. I didn't even make it back to my hospital bed before she once again protested. My mind immediately scanned for possible solutions.

The husband was presently snoring, wedged in his little chair pull-out bed, dead to the world. I could sense he would not be a viable option.

So as any good parent would, I swallowed my pride and called for help. Before giving birth, I had so naively assumed that I would keep her by my side at all times during our stay. It surprised me how quickly I was ready to send her off for a bunch of strangers to take care of in the nursery.

Two-days later, we are home. The endorphin high has worn off, leaving in its place exhaustion. Our little Tiny's nursery is no where near completion, and she's decided she hates sleeping alone in the pack-n-play in our room. Time loses all meaning as I groggily try to find a solution that will get her to sleep for, please-o-please, at least a few hours.

I eventually give in and put her in the bed between us. It only takes a few hours of this before I drive myself crazy with worry that one of us will smother her or that she will roll over and smother herself in our plush pillow top. I stumble around upstairs, trying to find the bouncy seat that I pray will be the solution to this problem and fall down the stairs in my stupor.

This has to be one of the 2nd or 3rd worst nights of my life.

By the time dawn is cresting over the mountains, the husband is awoken to our baby's pitiful cries and my own inconsolable sobs as I repeat, "I can't keep doing this! I'm going crazy!!"

And then, as if through time and space, I remembered.. this had happened to me once before. And I had received some very sage advice at the time, advice that I need to once again employ.

"For goodness sakes!" I could hear my mother saying, "Don't leave her by your bed at night then!"

"Oh.." I abashedly remembered. "Why didn't I think of that?"

And so it was that Tiny's nursery was completed in a whirlwind, and I learned the hard (very, very hard) honest truth about motherhood. Not only did she wake up every 3-4 hours, at best, it took at least an hour to keep her awake for a full feeding, change her, rock her and get her back to sleep (sometimes easier said than done) before it would all start again 1-2 hours later.

I had thought I knew everything about being a mother. I'm embarrassed to look back and remember it. In the past, I had felt jealously upon hearing of a new mother and her precious bundle, but my experience has wisened me.

Now when I hear of a new baby, I instantly pray for their mother. I have to bite my tongue at baby showers, debating between laying the whole horrible truth on them and letting them be innocently optimistic for a little while longer. And when I do share a few hard to swallow details, I remind them that I do so 'not to scare them.. to prepare them'.

And finish with the best news of all: in a few short- (hah!) hellishly long weeks, their baby will start to sleep through the night. Then they will see that first newborn smile, hear that first baby laugh, feel that first toddler hug and have the best (very, VERY best!) feeling in the whole entire world.

It's now been a little over a year, and I can hardly remember those tear-filled days and endless nights. They are but a post on my Timehop app and twinkle in my eye.

Now, every morning after a solid 12-hour nighttime slumber (woop!), I can't wait to burst in her room and scoop my not-so-Tiny-any-more up and thank God that I am so blessed to be her mom.

And someday, when she begs to have the latest digital pet (in HD, I'm sure), I'll knowingly smile and remember.

A Matter of Fact.

I've taken on a new title.
I've decided to become a 'self-proclaimed truth authority'.

What this means is that every time you or one of your friends or one of my relatives decides to 'Facebook spam' an image claiming some outrageous statement to be true, I feel morally obligated to debunk fact from fallacy. And then to make sure they are fully aware of their naivety. Out of love, mind you.

For instance, remember a few months back when a photo of 'pink slime' seemed to be circulating rather rapidly?..

 

The accompanying word blurb described how this 'pink slime' was mechanically separated chicken that is used in all processed chicken products. It went on to relate that "basically, the entire chicken is smashed and pressed through a sieve - bones, eyes, guts and all. [Then] it comes out looking like this."

But wait! There's more! Apparently "because it's crawling with bacteria, it will be washed with ammonia, soaking in it, actually. Then, because it tastes gross, it will be re-flavored artificially. Then, because it is weirdly pink, it will be dyed with artificial color."

Lastly, the author concludes in the most sarcastically ridiculous way possibly, "But, hey, at least it tastes good, right?"

Okay, first off, yes. Yes it does. It tastes amazingly delicious, in fact.

Second, let's take it easy with the commas and the 'thens' lady.
(I only assume it's a lady. Most likely because the Facebook friend who shared it was also a lady and also impossible to reason with.)

Next, let's just think about this for a second.. You really believe that your chicken nugget is the result of a whole chicken being smooshed through a strainer at some unnamed factory??

How about we check our facts before we start alarming the masses.

I, for one, find it a good rule of thumb to reference Snopes.com anytime I come across information that seems even the slightest bit fishy. Some will claim that the site isn't always correct, but I would much rather risk the unlikely instance of a few minor errors than to blindly believe anything that I read on the Internet.

And so, do you want to know the truth about 'pink slime'? It's exactly this: a process is used to mechanically separate small pieces of meat from bone that would otherwise be wasted. These edible meat tissue scraps are then processed and sanitized in order to keep them from growing harmful bacteria. So basically... 'pink slime' is food that isn't being wasted and is kept germ free so that it's safe for us to eat.

I KNOW! THE AUDACITY!! THE UNMITIGATED GALL!

I'm not saying that you should therefore love processed meat. And I'm not saying that in it's most common fried forms is the healthiest thing you can eat.

What I am saying is that you shouldn't always believe everything you read.

Another example that both amused and infuriated me at the same time was a link claiming that cut onions absorb bacteria, making them extremely effective in reducing illness. Just think, all these years I never knew that I could chop up a few onions and scatter them around the house if I wanted to avoid getting the flu! Wonders never cease!

And then as if that weren't enough, it went on to claim that "it is dangerous to cut an onion and try to use it to cook the next day [because] it becomes highly poisonous for even a single night and creates toxic bacteria which may cause adverse stomach infections because of excess bile secretions and even food poisoning."

Interesting... because I've cut and stored onions for quite sometime now, and I've never died a horrible, agonizing death from doing so.. Must have an iron stomach or something.

That, or I'M INVINCIBLE. Yep. Probably that.

And just in case you weren't convinced by that myriad of blatant lies, it ends by warning that "...dogs should never eat onions. Their stomachs cannot metabolize onions. Please pass this on to all you love and care about." If that's not a 'forward or you will die tomorrow' phrase, I don't know what is..

What's interesting is that the basis of these allegations are usually true. Onions can create adverse side affects when fed to canines. But then they throw in phrases like 'highly poisonous' and 'bones, guts and all' to scare the average reader into feeling so horrified and repulsed that they can't help but share it with their easily fooled friends.

Which explains nearly ALL of the incorrect truths I was taught growing up. Granted, my dad did like making up answers just for fun, but my mom is still convinced that aspartame and MSG are going to single-handedly destroy the world.

But perhaps my favorite example of Facebook foolishness is the image of someone (there have been several) holding a winning lottery ticket and claiming that they will give portions of it to a few lucky 'winners' that re-post/like the image.

Come on people.. Is gullible written on the ceiling?..

And then there are those rare but refreshing instances where I research a claim and find it to be true. Surprisingly enough, some of these posts (we're talking a VERY small percentage here) are actually fact-based. Take Capri Sun for example.

The post claimed that the fruit pouches grew mold and that several children confused the fermentation with what they believed to be 'worms'. And while that obviously isn't the case, it is possible for the drink to go bad.  Just like any other food. Especially if the pouch were to be punctured due to neglect by the owner.

And just like an expired block of cheese or a moldy loaf of bread, it is not typically medically dangerous to ingest. Disgusting, yes. Life-threatening, no.

So here's what I suggest:

Think twice before spreading the claim that an entire t-bone steak can be dissolved when submerged in Coke for a 24-hour period. If that were the case, your stomach and/or intestines wouldn't stand a chance.

And don’t annoy people by making them feel guilty about a leper in Botswana with no teeth who's been tied to a dead elephant for 27 years and whose only chance of living is the 5 cents per letter he'll receive if you re-post this image.

Now share this with everyone you know.
Otherwise you'll find all your socks missing tomorrow morning.

'Weather' You Like It or Not

As we get closer to (hopefully) buying a home, I can't help but think about the things I'll miss about our first little apartment. Such as its closeness to my work (we're talkin' literally three blocks here), its abundance of natural light, the walks the husband and I took around its city blocks admiring (and at times critiquing) the downtown architecture and the overall simplicity of our lives while living there. 

Granted, these things are far fewer in number than the things I won't miss about our first little apartment. Such as the swarms of boxelder bugs, the cramped closet space, the ghetto neighborhood, the smelly laundromat, the outdated fixtures, the drafty crevices, the ear-deafening heating/cooling system and the tiny dining area. The list could go on and on.

But probably at the top of list of things I will miss is this: the view from outside our bedroom window.

Minus the unfortunate wires that weave through its limbs, our massive walnut tree is a sight to behold. It sits in our neighbor's neglected backyard, home to a clowder (yes, clowder) of wild cats who have provided me with quiet entertainment a number of times now.

We chose an apartment on the top floor for several reasons: no noisy neighbors overhead, no 'Peeping Toms' at the blinds and mandatory stair-climbing exercise (truth be told, the husband's actually not much of a fan of that last one). But little did I know that I would end up loving the view the mostest.

Seeing it change from full bloom (for lack of a better term) in summer to naked in winter and now noticing little 'bean-sprouts' (as I referred to them yesterday much to the husband's amusement) starting to form is quite satisfying. Just like the walnuts it dropped last fall, free for the taking. (Or at least I would assume so... we may have innocently committed nut-theft.)

I can only hope that our future home will have such lush and beautiful vegetation. The 'house snobbery' the husband claims I possess has expanded to include mature trees as a requirement. And if one could be right outside my window, I wouldn't complain. Throw in a waterwheel in the summer, a wind chime in the fall and chirping frogs/crickets in the spring, and I'm sure I'd be one happy camper.

Which is why it always confuses me when people complain about the weather. Sure, it's unpredictable and sure winter seems long sometimes, but we live in Utah. Get used to it.

I, for one, love the seasons. Not only do they provide variety, they also seem to perfectly chart the passing of time. The husband and I agree that holidays wouldn't quite be the same without their accompanying weather. I mean, who doesn't love finding Easter eggs in the new green growth of spring, or baking in the hot sun at the swimming pool, or jumping in cool piles of crisp autumn leaves or waking up to fresh snowfall on Christmas morning?

Palm trees and a temperate climate year-round sounds pretty boring to me. After all, we wouldn't know the good without the bad, no? Or in other words, we wouldn't appreciate the warmth if we didn't know the cold.

And though I sometimes fall into grumbling upon having to scrape the snow off my windshield for the ump-teenth time or claiming that I have contracted heat stroke at the peak of summer's swelter, I really can't justify not loving Utah and it's weather.

Don't get me wrong, making small talk about weather is right up there with 'cruel and unusual punishment' in my book. Just know that I'm pretty dang pleased with my location in life. Regardless of the unexpected flurries and soggy-hair showers that seasons may bring.

Shopping Around

I am currently in the middle of a game against myself to see how long I can make it before going grocery shopping. We are down to a few tortillas, an onion and a quarter gallon of milk, so it's an exciting challenge.

I'm also very excited about one home in particular which we toured last week in Springville that has everything we're looking for! Don't know if you were aware, but we've been shopping the housing market for over a month now with no success. We've seen a few prospects, but they've all turned out to be big disappointments.

The husband is determined to find a fixer-upper for a steal and transform it with his handy-man skills. I, on the other hand, would prefer to find something with good 'bones' that needs only a little work here and there. So naturally, this equates to him thinking that I am house high-maintenance and won't be happy with anything less than the nicest/newest and me terrified at the prospects of living in a sh**-hole (pardon my French) for the months on end that it would require to flip the dang thing. Combine that with limited funds/time, and pretty sure you've got a recipe for disaster.

That's why I'm so happy about this recent find. It has all of our 'must haves' but still leaves room for improvement. Not to mention the large back yard. I can just see the husband's eyes light up every time he imagines a vizsla puppy frolicking around out there. Which is fine with me, so long as he also imagines a baby swing hanging from the willow tree...

Unfortunately, it's stuck in probate court for the time being (whatever that means), so we've been forced to wait even longer and get our hopes up even more. All I know is that when I see a kitchen with pantry space, my brain goes crazy thinking of all of the ways I can fill it up with bargains.

Pretty sure I could turn Extreme Couponing crazy before long. I've held back seeing as we've had limited storage space, but now that a change is on the horizon, I plan on building a veritable stockpile. So sign me up for the Sunday paper and give me all your inserts people, because I'm ready! WOOOO!

In other news, did you know that a lot of manufacturer's coupons are online now?.. I print them through Swagbucks via Coupons.com and not only save the offered value but also get ten swagbucks (equivalent to $.10) per redeemed coupon. It's a happy little bonus that definitely adds up.

And to you doubters out there who thought this 'Swagbucks' craze of mine would never last, I'm happy to relate that the husband and I have earned over $175 in the three months or so we've been logging on during our spare time. Not too shabby, my friends. Not too shabby.

So when you get a birthday card with a strange little ecard print out inside, just know that it is indeed for reals and was kindly funded by my hard-earned swagging effort. I share, because I care. :)

If you want to start earning free gift cards in your spare time as well, click HERE to sign up for your free Swagbucks account. There really isn't a catch!

And now please excuse me while I run home for a quick lunch break. It looks like an onion burrito and a glass of milk are on the menu.