Lovely Lady Bumps

Today I met my sister's hump and she met mine.

Does that sound weird?

My sister Stephanie is in Arizona where doctors have inserted a balloon-type mechanism into her back. As this balloon expands so does the healthy skin, which creates a double hump on her shoulder. With this harvested skin they will be able to fix the skin on her neck and chin, thus helping her with mobility in those areas. I feel like a scientist explaining all this.

Chup had some business to do in Phoenix, so me and the little guy climbed aboard the plane with him. After we landed this afternoon we went over to visit The Nielsons. We found all to be well, the children were as spicy as ever and The Chief fell madly in love with Ollie and Gigs all over again.

We spent a good time in the backyard playing on the grass. What a novelty. February and soft grass.

Claire and Jane who have been skeptical of my pregnancy from the beginning finally admitted that my forward hump was indeed baby-induced.

"Is it like been pregnant, with your hump backwards?" I asked Stephanie noticing that she had to avoid certain positions. Like I do.

"Um. Not so much." She replied.

Of course it's not.

Truthfully, I have no idea what it is like for her. And sometimes when in crowded places I will look around and see how most people have healthy skin--unburned, untreated. My sister lives a life that very few--very few--can understand. It involves daily emotional and physical pain at levels I may never feel.

Sometimes it is overwhelming to comprehend.

Still, it was nice to sit outside until evening watching Chup throw the kids all over the lawn and discuss sisterly things like maternity leggings and growing your hair down to the bum line. Dreamy.

Someday, in a few months time, we will no longer have our matching bumps. I will have a baby to show for it, and she will have a reconstructed neck and chin. And both come with added bonuses: she'll be able to lounge on her backside, and I will once again relish face-down tummy sleep.


Looking forward to it.


On dear c jane today:
Great plates!

The Night We Became Old

Van and his date Dixie the night of the Valentine's dance--Lindsay Kay Clark photography

On Friday night my teenage nephews Van and Layton asked if they could bring their dates over to our house after the Valentine's Dance. The plan was to play Rock Band in our den from ten until midnight. Our house lends itself well to this sort of function. The den is a solitary place where we put the tv and books, but was much abandoned until winter swept along and we found salvation in a PBS education.

But moments before the double date was set to arrive, Chup and I couldn't find our Rock Band disc. Anywhere. (Take a minute to look around your house, do you have our Rock Band disc?) I sent a frantic message to both boys saying NO DISC! But about fifteen minutes later they showed up anyway.

"We'll just hang out, if that is ok." Said Layton as he shuffled in the door.

"Sure! Fine!" I said as I waved the crowd down to the den.

Chup set up Netflix to stream through our X-box so we get movies on demand. I am using all these terms I really don't understand here. I think you get the picture. I assumed they would want to watch a movie, so I gave them the option. More than anything I wanted to be the cool aunt. Just cool.

The dates got comfortable on one couch with pillows and blankets. I gave Van the controls and guessed he knew what he was doing. Why does it take me seven months to figure out the X-box controls when kids these days make it seem so easy? Anyway, they started to flip through all the available options. I unobtrusively left them to do their thing.

But I got to thinking, maybe I should offer them treats.

I mean, treats always go with a movie right?

But then I didn't want to be the attention-seeking, annoying aunt that keeps showing up for silly reasons.

But then I remembered I had a lot of treats to offer.

So I took down some bowls of gummi bears, chocolate-covered pretzels, Pirate's Booty and chocolate raisins.

"Just in case you like treats." I said softly, ducking below the tv and quietly presenting them on the coffee table.

Then I realized I had offered a bowl of chocolate raisins.

Chocolate raisins.

Only old people like chocolate raisins.

Should I say something about the chocolate raisins? I thought.

Because what if chocolate raisins are embarrassing to the boys?

(Like when your grandma offered you black licorice and you had to respectfully eat it.)

So I said, "Chocolate Raisins!" (Pretend chuckle)"I am sorry. Only old people like me like chocolate raisins!"

But they were all really nice.

"Oh no! We like chocolate raisins!" They all seemed to say in unison.

So I left the chocolate raisins there--pride intact--and went upstairs unnoticed.

But that is when Chup entered the den with his loud improv voice.

"He he! What have we here?"

Oh no. I thought.

"Watching a movie are we?"

Teenagers mumbling.

"You know, there should be a bible's space between you and your date!"

Not the chastity jokes.

Teenagers awkwardly laughing.

"Well. You guys sit here. And Courtney and I will sit on this couch over here with a spray bottle and our eyes on you."

A spray bottle?

Teenagers shifting uncomfortably.

I couldn't believe my ears. In our marriage this is my role. I am the goofy one, the one who regularly delivers flat jokes, who makes people have to pretend to laugh. Chup sits collected while I make the room squirm. He has long refined the art of censoring my silliness and replacing my odd jokes with his better ones. This was a new frontier here.

Before he could continue, I asked him to come up the stairs to um . . . help me . . . with . . . something. He left them with one more one-liner and dutifully came to answer my call.

"Did you forget?" I asking whispering.

"Forget what?" He said, seemingly pleased with himself.

"What it is like to be a teenager and have your goofy relative say embarrassing things in front of your date?"

Pause.

"You are right. I did forget." He said thoughtfully. "Thanks for reminding me."

The rest of the evening went well. They watched a movie, had brownies and ice cream and left some time after I had gone to bed. I mean I went to bed but couldn't fall asleep because I'd have outbursts of laughing about the spray bottle line.

A spray bottle?

The next morning as I was cleaning up I noticed they left the bowls of treats on the table. Most of the treats were consumed, gummi bears, chocolate pretzels and Pirate's Booty were gone.

But the chocolate raisins remained untouched.





Just by way of public service . . .
My Community is a great place to ask questions, post new ideas or link to personal projects. I've noticed a trend in these sorts of things in my email inbox lately, and I am sadly unable to mention them all personally. My Community has over 3,000 members and is a great resource for getting the word out. Your word out. Whatever that word is (but 'cept not a swear word). To check it out, go here.

On dear c jane today:
Valentine Week Day One:
Basa Body New Truffle Soaps!


On c jane's Guide to Provo:
Provo Orem Word launches!

Not So Much Better

You know, sometimes I just have to admit defeat.

The only real blogging I was able to do this evening was about SLABpizza for my Provo blog (cjaneprovo.com baby!) It's a new shop and already Chup and I have been there seven trillion times. In fact, the last time we showed up I actually apologized to the owner Eric for coming so often. Basically he has become our family chef, only we go to his place so I don't have to do the dishes afterward.

(If I have a personal chef, why am I so tired?)

I wore this same outfit at a promo I did for Halftees yesterday. Come to think of it, it doesn't matter how much pizza I eat, my Halftee will always fit. (I should've said that in the promo! Brilliant news!) Anyway, if you ever see the promo on the Halftees website you will recognize this outfit. I am saving myself embarrassment here.

I am in the third trimester, only two things fit and I am going to rotate until I deliver. Purple shirt, black dress, purple shirt, black dress, purple shirt labor pains and done.

Thanks Wendy for the photo.

(Am I flaring my nostrils in the photo--a little bit?)
(And is that a wink? I can't really decide.)







On dear c jane today:
January's Mother Lode Winner!




On c jane's Guide to Provo:
SLAB it on: