Schprid has a face!

Today was my second dcotor's appointment since I discovered I was pregnant. Last time around, he listened for the heartbeat, but could not find it. He scheduled me to come in again today so we could check for it again. Sadly, he didn't find it. Instead, he sent me downstairs to get an ultrasound.

Ryan and I went and waited for half an hour or so, then were brought back into a dark room where a nice man spread jelly all over my belly. He rubbed the little wand all over, pressing a little harder than was comfortable. I could see Ryan at the back of the room, watching the computer screen and completely entranced. The doctor didn't say a whole lot, and between the two of them I felt very much in the dark.

Finally, the doctor chuckled and said, "It's an active baby! She's jumpin' around in there like a little monkey!" Apparently, he was having a hard time getting the baby to sit still long enough to do any measurements or get the heartbeat. Finally, he pulled the screen over to where I could see it, and I got to see my baby! It's so cute, and so little!!!

It was fun, after the tension of not hearing the heartbeat, and then waiting for the ultrasound, and thinking they might need to do it internally, to be able to see my baby and to hear its heartbeat. Wow. I have a baby!

So, apparently I'm not quite at 12 weeks yet, though I thought I was. I'm at 11 weeks and 4 days, so on Friday I'm at 12 weeks. They'll let me keep my due date, though, which is cool. I'm just excited to be done with my 1st trimester so I can relax a little bit.

Etsy.com

So, I was doing my homework the other day, looking up news articles that had to do with finance. I came across one that told about Utah moms (and many others) who use a website called Etsy.com to sell their handmade crafts. Curious, I checked it out and found everything from clothes to soap to stationary to frames to... well, you get the picture. It's really cool! I've been doing some research, and I discovered that in order to sell on this website, in essence to start your own cool business with a name and a banner and everything, you just have to sign up, pay a $0.20 posting fee for each item you post, and then a 3.5% fee off of what you sell. The wheels in my head are turning. You see, I recently came up with a neat crafty idea, and just finished the first one for myself. I intend to use it for awhile, see if I like it, and then, perhaps, make more and sell them. There are a couple things out there that are somewhat similar to what I'm making, but not quite as cool, in my opinion. There are all sorts of possibilities. And then, I could do other things as well, like making paper (which I've learned a little bit about from my dear friend Ronnie) or sewing, or... anything, really! Oooh... there is much fun to be had.

Happy Birthday to Me!

So, my wonderful husband got up early and made us breakfast this morning. We had omelets with cheese and bacon and salsa... yummy. And then, he gave me my first birthday present. (Well, not really my first, because I've gotten others from extended family that were completely wonderful!)

He hadn't wrapped it. It was still outside in the trunk of his car. So, when he walked in with it, I closed my eyes, and he plunked it on my head. He told me that, since it fit, I had to wear it to work. I opened my eyes and discovered that I was wearing the awesomest pink straw cowgirl hat. :) Oh, it was delightful. I love it. I love birthdays. I love my husband.

Why do I do this?

For the past several years, benevolent people have been giving money to BYU for the purpose of me getting an education. The first five or six years, I wandered around from class to class, major to major, wondering where I would find some sort of fulfillment. I tried sociology, psychology, elementary education, and a few others I don't remember right now. I left school twice, once to go to China and once simply because I needed a break. Each time, I got pulled back into it. BYU became this inescapable vortex that I can only leave by moving though.

When I got my job at Heritage, I found my calling. I was outside, working with horses and teenagers, and I could relate to them. I've had several tell me I am one of their favorite staff, in a place where they don't have much reason to like anything. I figured out how to give them both structure and freedom. Not all of them like me, it is true, but I believe there are very few who actually dislike me.

Because of this job, I decided to major in Recreational Therapy. I had taken a class in this during my first stint in college, and I thought the people were wierd. The teachers, in particular, were really wierd. It didn't seem like a serious major, and I passed the class and discounted it as a possibility. Then, when I came back with the intent to major in RT, I came to grips with the fact that my teachers are, in fact, truly wierd. Often my peers are relaxed and easygoing. It is, really, a good major. I remember consciously thinking that this major was relaxed enough that perhaps studying it in school would not completely kill my enjoyment of learning.

I will say, I have gotten much farther in this major than I did in any other. I have done some very good things here.

Recently, my job changed. I am still at Heritage, still teaching troubled youth how to ride. But now, there is much more structure, I am much busier, and I feel rushed, both during the day and througout each semester. I am a school teacher, now, responsible for grades and everything. Before, I only had to write a small note on how each client did in each session, and that was the end of it. The other system had its flaws, to be sure, but I had so much more fun with the system and with the clients. Now I feel as though my job is not so much to care about but to monitor the clients.

Perhaps it is that, or perhaps it is my classes, but I am tired of it all. So far in my major, my classes have focused on not so much how to care for or relate to my clients, but how to assess what is wrong with them, either physically, mentally, or emotionally. I have learned how to do paperwork, and research, and evaluate scholarly articles. My teachers have been very kind; I will grant them that. Perhaps they believe we all have the skills necessary already to be compassionate and kind and empathetic. Perhaps they don't believe that those are not necessary in Therapeutic Recreation. After all, I have never seen a scholarly article written on the benefits of compassion given by RT's to clients, and the noticeable, clinical differences it has caused.

Quite frankly, I don't care about the paperwork. I understand that, to some extent, it is necessary. It helps with communication. It helps to know when the overall goals are achieved. It is good to know how to do which tests when. But it just seems to me that the paperwork and such should be very very minimal. The point of this whole thing should be to build confidence, good habits, skills, and relationships, both in the clients and in ourselves. I feel that I have learned so little about that. Therapeutic recreation, at this point, is neither therapeutic nor recreational for me. If I have the view that it is not fun, how on earth am I going to communicate any sort of enjoyment to my clients?

I do realize that there is more to RT than academia. Thank goodness, or it would be no better than... well, I don't want to impune anybody's taste. :) But this is my other problem. I don't plan on doing any professional work in Recreational Therapy. Beyond my internship, I don't even particularly want to get my CTRS certification, which is just a really expensive test that says, "Hey! I did school! I can therapize recreationally!" So, because I have no goal that I'm working toward, I don't have any motivation whatsoever to learn the theories and assessments.

I'm in a pickle, really.

Ah, well, I just have one month left of this class that has prompted this particular rant, and then just a few classes after that. I just don't want to hate what I'm doing every day anymore! I've done that once already in my life, and swore I would never do it again. It's only slightly better, this time, because I'm the one that got myself into it, rather than being forced by "the system." Gah.

Little Bit of Love

So, while this is not so hot-off-the-press, and several of my friends already know, I figure it's time to make the official announcement. Really, I don't know why or how people so often wait for months to tell people. Maybe when I've lived longer I'll know better. For right now, I'm just really excited.

So yes, if you haven't guessed, the "little bit of love" is about 1/8 of an inch long after approximately 4 weeks of growing. "Itty Bitty," as we refer to him/her weighs less than a gram, which doesn't explain why my clothes are already a little tighter than I'd like... Just eight months left to go!

Impressions so far: So tired!!! So tired! The repository of all knowledge known as the Internet says that my heart is beating an extra 15 beats per minute. That's an extra 20,000 beats per day! No wonder I'm so tired! Add to that the fact that I'm still working out at the barn and going to school, and when I come home at night I'm just exhausted. I think I've been working hard enough that I made myself sick. I took yesterday off completely, and today all I have scheduled is a test, so by Friday I should be doing okay again.

We're so excited, though. It'll be so fun to have a little family, to take care of a baby and to watch him/her grow and develop a personality.

Sometimes it seems completely unreal. I have a hard time believing that this is really happening. I'm gonna be a Mommy!

Wow.

Femininity? Really?

The color pink is an interesting thing. Once upon a time, it was my favorite color. Then, through various episodes of peer pressure and self-discover, I decided my favorite color was not pink, but blue. Then purple. I finally, in my later years, settled on green. It was a color of nature. It was sophisticated and elegant without being flashy. It represented Mother Earth and all things beautiful.

I grew up in the country. I learned early on that getting very dirty is part of life, that hard work and sweat are how you keep a ranch running. There were times when, even though I was dressed in a skirt and heels and we were headed off to Church, we would stop on our way there because some of our cows had gotten loose and we needed to chase them back in before we could proceed. I took to wearing jeans and tennis shoes every day, simply because they were much more practical than anything else. I had never particularly cared for my looks, either, and so it didn't matter what shirt I threw on with my jeans.

In my college years, though I lived in the city, my country ways stayed with me. This was facilitated by the fact that I work with horses 30 hours of every week. I mucked stalls, bathed horses, breathed in and became covered in dust on a daily basis. During the winter, I wore so many layers to stay warm on those days when I was outside for eight or nine hours that I looked like the abominable snow monster.

Beyond that, I rarely, if ever, got dates. I had no reason, ever, to dress up. Jeans and t-shirts. No makeup. Conservative hair-do. All things practical.

And then I got married.

In essence, nothing has changed so very much. I still work with horses 30 hours a week. I am not playing the "dating game", and my husband really doesn't care what I wear. I'm not competing with other girls to look prettiest at Church.

So why, all of a sudden, have I realized that my favorite color still is pink? Why is it that now, every Thursday, I go shopping simply because it's my day off and I can? I do my hair cute, and wear sparkly earrings, and carry a fashionable purse. For goodness' sake, pink?

But I love it. I get all excited about cute things for my house, and scrapbooking, and keeping in touch with people. I understand now why friends and family are so important. I can't wait to figure out new recipes. I love my aprons. During the summer, I wore skirts in the middle of the week for no reason whatsoever. For some reason, now, I get it. Though I still work with horses, and want to work with animals and be outside and be active, for some reason, now, it's all about being lovey and cutsey and pink and sparkly and pretty. I don't understand it, but there it is, and, I have to admit, I do enjoy being feminine.

Bouquet of Pencils

School begins. That means tuition, books, busy-ness, and stress. Ryan is taking 12 credits and I am taking 6. Small loads for both of us, but we're still quite busy. It seems that, even though we have less overall to do, there is so much to think about and work on and get done that we still don't have enough time in the day. We're both working, still, and somehow have not yet managed to get our house cleaned from when we moved in. We'll get there- each week we make progress, but it's slow going.



But books and paper and pencils and binders and all the indicators of the tedium to come also bring the joys of fall. The leaves have started to turn, and just two days ago I found myself on horseback up in the mountains with my friends. We found gorgeous meadows and bright colors and even a raincloud or two. Ryan and I have not completely stopped sleeping with the swamp cooler on, but I wear layers and long sleeves in the mornings, now, and have begun dreaming of the cozy inside evenings of winter. I look forward to the sound of rain on the roof, to coming home from work and snuggling on the couch with my husband while we read, or making hot chocolate to warm us both up. Soon I'll be able to light candles in the evenings, and as soon as I get my to-do list finished, I can again try to create the things that have been blossoming in my head.

There is something about the seasons turning colder that makes me think of family. Perhaps it is that we do so much to keep warm, and part of that means being physically closer to one another. Perhaps it is the traditions- Thanksgiving, Christmas, warm meals shared and good times had despite the cold outside. Maybe it's because it gets dark sooner, enticing people to come inside and play games, read books, or talk.

This will be my first winter to spend married. This year, when I cook warm soups and breads, there is someone who will appreciate them. This year, when I come home from work frozen from head to toe, there will be someone to wrap me up in a blanket and hold me until I get warm. This year, when the first snow falls, there will be somebody special in my life who will get excited and want to go play.

There is much to be said for Summer, to be sure. People emerge from their homes and explore the world around them. Friendships are made. Flowers bloom and the world comes to life. It is truly wonderful. For me, Winter has always held an inexplicable magic, unrivaled even by the new life of Spring. Winter means warmth, spirituality, firelight and family. For me, Winter brings to life all the deep joys of friendship, giving, and love.