Hip Hip Hooray for a RED holiday!

As is Torgerson Tradition, I LOVE Valentine's Day. Let's be honest, first of all, the world wears red and eats good candies and cookies and dinners. What's not to like? Having a husband this year did make it extra fun... but I think it more meant I just had someone to rope into my festivities. I loved having it on Saturday because try as I might, I could not get my cards or crafts or cookies done before the day of. I did, however, manage to get lots of fun things done on the actual day.

First, I made pink heart sugar cookies. I love to make them (but only do a few scattered times a year, because, honestly, they are so much work. And I eat too many of them.)

The next very exciting thing that happened was Mom's Package (capital letters deserved) arrived. Jeremy was NOT expecting the little box of love from my mom. But my, was he excited. The whole pound of Sees magically disappeared within 24 hours. Disclaimer: I only ate 4. Second Disclaimer: Jeremy really didn't like these somewhat posed pictures--but he really was giddy he was so excited--and graciously let me post them anyway). Also note the dang cute (if I do say so myself) heart paper garland I made and hung in the background. My mom also gave me the cutest handmade heart magnant and heart handled scissors, not to mention her cute--as always--valentine. We were both feeling the love.

Lastly, I made some new placemats for the big V-day dinner. I had been wanting to for a long time, and finally did. I think they turned out pretty cute. You may have noticed in this picture (more than the placemat) the bowl of pink something. Yes, I sure did dye the rice HOT pink. Along with our pink rice we had milanesa (a fried Argentine meat--Jeremy's favorite mission food), red jello with strawberries, stuffed tomatoes, and raspberry sherbet with ginger ale to drink. It was a fun festive feast!

I hope your Valentine's Day was as wonderful and red as ours. All my love to you, blown with a kiss--

Bellies and Boy Names

Last weekend we went to Vegas for Sara's shower. It was SO MUCH fun to spend the weekend with them and to partake in all the Baby Maggie excitment. While there Sara and I took pregnant pictures. Sara is due March 3rd... and I'm a whole three months later (and taking forever to really show). I LOVE being pregnant with my sisters. Hooray for cute pregnant bellies!

On a different note: from the time Jeremy and I were engaged and planned on starting a family right away, we talked about names. Once we knew I was pregnant, we had a girl name almost immediately. Of boy names... we had a list of options, but never even got close to picking one exclusively. So when it was obvious we were having a boy, the conversation started anew. I'll admit, it's been a constant debate. There are a few criteria (some of which are just mine, and some of which we both feel strongly about): 1. It needs to be a name with history. Preferably history of people we know and love. 2. It needs to be classic (not a new, experiemental name). 3. It needs to not be a name that a million babies are given right now (thus there won't be three of them in kindergarden together having to use middle initials etc.).

With all that said, I still go back and forth and have a new favorite every single day. Yep. I just can't decide. Almost every name on the list has a pro and con to it that won't let me quite give in yet. I know, I know, I still have 3 1/2 months to go... so there's no rush... but I want to have a name. So, please tell me what you, the masses, have to say. Listed in no particular order, here they are:

Mark Morrell
Charles (Charlie)
Raymond John
Morrell Alan
Peter
David John
Stuart

note: I LOVE middle names and plan on calling my kids by first and middle names... but know I will also use all sorts of abreviations as well. Hence, Raymond John would easily be just Ray, we've joked that Morrell could go by Mo or Mac (his initials) on occastion, and Peter could be Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater. All full and abreviated versions are (possibly) game. For those listed without middle names... we just haven't come up with one yet.

So what do you think?

ps. Stuart isn't really on the list because Jeremy HATES it... but I love it. Does anyone else agree??

Mother Eve

It is an interesting thing living in this wide world of mass communication. I have a question about something and I google it or look it up in a book or call my mom or a sister or ask Jeremy. I've got all sorts of resources right at my fingertips for any old question I come up with. How do you make a good beef stew in a crockpot? Betty Crocker knows. What exactly is autism and when does it start manifesting itself in kids (a question we asked ourselves at work this week when talking about one of the kids in our Even Start program)? Google it. Is this or that "normal" in a pregnancy? Ask Tasha or wait to ask the doctor next week when I'm there. The info is endless. What would we do without the internet, dictionaries, doctors, friends, family, books? I just don't know.

Usually when I'm feeling most grateful for an already-at-my-fingertips answer that I needed, I think of what it must have been like to have been Adam or Eve. Goodness. What did they do? How did the know how to build a home? A fire? A bucket? A plough? What an incredible wonderfilling and incredible life it must have been to be the very first. Everything was new. I am going to assume that they got a decent amount of instruction and (hopefully) even advice for some of the basics of survival, but my guess is the Lord left a lot up to them to figure out. And even if He told them a lot, there was just so much to know, that inevitably there were a lot of gaps they had to fill in on their own.

Think about it for a minute.

It's crazy.

I've been thinking about Eve and her first pregnancy a lot lately. She must have been so totally bewildered with what on earth was happening to her. Did she know or understand that there was a little soon-to-be baby inside her? Did she know what a baby even was? (Honestly, she didn't start out as a baby, so how would she?) When her body started doing strange things, did she have any idea why she felt so sick and was so tired? When the kicking started and her belly bulged did she instictively know it was the whole reason she had eaten the forbidden fruit? Did she know it was fulfilling the commandment to multiply and replenish the earth with that slowly growing belly?

I think it must have been one startling revelation after another to her. But I think she knew. Just as Mary, the mother of Jesus, took her experiences and "pondered them in her heart," I have confidence that Eve pondered, and she knew. She understood at a deep and sacred level what it meant to be a woman and a mother. And because of her unique spiritual gifts and insights she must have known, even when there was no other way of knowing, that she was fulfilling the measure of her creation.

I have so much respect for her. What courage to deliver that first child. With no forsight, no clear knowledge of just what labor would entail, no doctor or midwife (just trustworthy and loving Adam), no books no world wide web to explain every ache and pain, no hospital, no clean and sanitary space, she entered pregnancy and motherhood without, I don't think, looking back. After that first born child, how many followed, I wonder? How many times did she midwife for her daughters and granddaughters? For how many did she counsel and advise, encourage and coach as they too became mothers? What insights and truths did she pass down?

While I am extremely grateful for my doctor and books and internet and family, I wonder what it would have been like to have learned from Eve--she who began the chain of the family tree to which we all belong.

Being "In a Motherly Way"

I am well aware that many of you readers have been (or are) pregnant and that this experience isn't entirely new to me. But sometimes, it really does feel like it is. Being pregnant has got to be one of the most bizarre, thrilling, incredible, and unreal experiences I have ever had. Now, for five months running. It is just so strange that this is a little somebody inside of me. Another person. And I can feel him in there moving around--kicking and punching--from the inside out.

It is so strange to me to try and imagine what this little man-child will come out and be like. What will his personality be? What will he look like? What will his little cry be like? His voice? His eyes? Will his chin be dimpled like mine? Will his eyes be blue like Jeremy's? Will he have tufts of dark brown hair or tawny red? Will he be a soccer player or a piano player or both? Will he be quiet and reserved or the life of the party? I just don't know. And there he is, hanging out in the meantime--in my belly. Crazy.

Despite the not-so-great parts of pregnancy (nausea, aching, bad sleep, and too many bathroom trips in a 24-hour period), I really love it. I love feeling him move around. I love it when he curls up into a tight ball and I can cup my hand around his little body inside of mine. I love feeling him roll over. It's like a tidle wave in my insides. I love poking and proding him just enough to get moving--playing little premature games of hide and seek.

I love knowing he is mine, he is part of me. That one day soon he'll enter this wide wide world and I will get to be his guide and mentor and protector as he navigates his way through it. I love this grand adventure of motherhood that begins in the slow and steady progression of pregnancy.

Mr. Christiansen

The last time I wrote a post dedicated to Jeremy was when we were dating. Suddenly a boy had sprung up in my life and people were starting to get curious. But since we're now married, the masses are no longer wondering. I don't rant and rave about Mr. Christiansen enough, I don't think. So in honor of his birthday yesterday, I think I'll add (and reiterate) a few things to the list of things I already saw in him back last May.

1. He is funny. Not stand-up-comedy-funny, but he is always saying (or singing) off-the-wall things that make me laugh. Whenever I'm feeling sick or tired or out of sorts, he has a knack for giving me a fit of giggles.


2. He is level-headed. No matter how much the new tires are going to cost or what the latest unexpected bill is in the mail, he takes it in stride and doesn't lose perspective.


3. He's diligent and thorough. When he sets a goal, he takes the steps to make it a reality, no matter the cost.


4. He is focused. Seriously, he is studying hardcore for the LSAT that he'll take in the summer of 2010.


5. He is compassionate. We see a homeless on the corner, and he wants to stop and buy a sandwitch. I've had a rough day and he's willing to give me a back rub--no matter how tired he is. I do something without thinking and he makes me look in those clear blue eyes until I see his forgiveness and understanding.


6. He is thoughtful. He takes what I say and applies. I've only had to ask him to put the toilet seat down once, and he's since remembered.


7. He's not concerned with what the masses think. So it's not "cool" or "kosher" to do something they way it should be done? He doesn't let it stop him.


8. Did I meantion that he's good looking? Yup, I still am pretty dang positive about this one.


9. He still wears vans old schools. And swears he will 'till he's an old man. I love the vans/old-man sweater look he sports all the time. It's so Jeremy.


10. And he still makes me smile. All day long.
    

Happy Birthday, Mr. Christiansen. Here's to a long life of many birthdays!

Welcoming Chase David Donovan

Today at 12:23pm (California time), darling little Chase David Donovan came into the world. He was 7 lbs 1 oz and 20 inches long. I got to talk to Tasha tonight for a few minutes. She is doing good--although is understandably tired. I am so dang happy this little guy decided to show up without any major complications or mishaps.

And I loved getting to hear my newest little nephew making noises on the other side of the line! I can hardly believe she has another little one to love and take care of. I just can't stop smiling about getting to be Aunt Carly Jane to one more cute little one :)

ps. Better and more pictures are sure to come soon. These are phone pictures curtesy of Aunt Paige (THANK YOU, PAIGE). I just couldn't wait to post the happy news!

pps. Sara and Stanford posted some of the MOST FABULOUS pictures. Hooray for photographers in the family!

Nursury ideas

Yes. It is 3:40AM. And once again, I am having trouble sleeping. And what am I thinking about so much that I can't dream? My little one, of course. I thought I would at least get up and be productive for a few minutes and show you some of my favorite nursury findings...

You will probably not be surprised to hear that RED will play a significant role in my nursury creating. But, the truth is, it won't be the only color. I've loved ideas I've found with red playing a dominant theme, but accented by other soft baby colors. Most of the following are from the same nursury (on ohdeedoh.com) for a little girl. Since mine is a little boy bun, I like the idea of accenting red with baby blues and soft yellows instead of green.

Is this red furniture not to die for? So far I don't know how much furniture will make it into the budget... but I would like a chest of drawers and a small bookshelf (and a crib, of course). As far as buying goes, I would go white (especially the crib). Although it is tempting to paint the others (if we get them) red. So so fabulous. One can dream, can't she?

Something else I love about this room (and that is so fabulous about the play room/guest room in two pictures down) is the pictures on the wall. I love that they are framed in red and are from old vintage kids books. Or new kids books. Either way. I love this idea. My thoughts are to paint some cheap frames red (unless I can find them cheap and red already) and put nursury rhymes, pictures (scanned? cut out of DI books?) in them. I saw once is craftpad.com (shown below) that she covered her mats in fun fabrics. Love that idea too. Or, I could embroider something and frame it in red. An A, B, C all hung in a row? We'll see. But either way I work it, I LOVE the idea of literary wall hangings. I am an English teacher, after all.

And last but not least, I love this mobil (picture again curtesy of craftpad.com... um, maybe all of these I found there...). Anyhow, the litte owls are SO dang cute. I don't know if I have the skills to make my own mobil. But why not? I like the baby blues but would definitely add some red and maybe yellow ones in.

And there you have it. All my thoughts so far. Don't worry, more are to come. I haven't actually bought a thing (although my mom found some solid red knit sheets yesterday and added them to her basket (hooray!)). So far most all of this is in the planning stages... but that's the fun part, isn't t? In the meantime I have a few fun projects up my sleeve for my sisters who are both about to pop. (Tasha's due Monday, folks, and Sara in a month). Babies, babies, everywhere and all the world is well.

Freckles

As the winter months continue in their coldness (although yesterday it did rain instead of snow... an interesting phenomena in the Utah weather scheme of things) and my skin gets paler and paler, I have begun to miss my freckles. It's not the pale skin I mind so much (actually, I don't mind it at all), it's the lack of interesting colors and splotches created by my ever-present freckle friends.

They are my fairy kisses. The evidence (as I firmly believed as a preschooler) that the fairies have chosen me. (Note: I don't know if I came to this conclusion because I read it in one of a bizillion fairy books I read and had read to me as a little girl, or if someone actually articulated it for me, or if I knew it simply because it is true...) In any case, I miss them. And while I walk to and from work everyday (and thus have plenty of vitamin-D rich sun exposure), I have yet to get a new freckle in many a long month.

But I know they'll come back. It will just take one nice-weathered BYU baseball game (don't worry, I'll wear sunscreen this year) to make them magically reappear on my arms and shins and cheaks. And oh how excited I am for those BYU baseball games to begin...

Morrell Snowball

The other day I had a deep pang of missing Grandpa Snowball. He died last February and it has subsequently been a year of "firsts" without him. Although I don't live in California near my Grandma, I think of her often as she continues the mighty struggle to live alone. Because I grew up living just 10-15 minutes from my grandparents, we were at their house a lot. We celebrated almost every holiday with them. My pool of memories about Grandpa is deep. He was such a good man. Quiet and good natured. Yet stubborn. Persistant. A perfectionist. He would work on a project until it was just how he wanted it. He never (never) did shoddy work.

I remember my mom bringing a belt over to him once that needed another hole. He got out his tools and found the perfect size pin to make a hole the exact size of the others. He was painsaking and deliberate.

He was always that way with his garden. It was a work of art. Their yard is safe haven. I remember when we were little and they would open the hidden pit in their back yard. We would parade the food outside to be set up on card tables. The little ice bucket and stacks of matching melomine plates. The benches with backs that flipped into tables and the special white iron table for two in the gazebo.

I remember trips to Park City in college and staying in the Marriott Hotel. They would pick us up as they drove through Provo and let us spend the weekend. They would take us shopping at the grocery story with them and fill up their cart with all kinds of goodies. I remember on one of those trips watching Grandpa open the breadbag and push down the edges. Then, with the precision with which he does everything, use his pocketknife to cut off and away the inner plastic bag and slide the outer bag up and around the neatly sliced stack of bread.

I remember him sitting me on his knee or putting an arm around me to sing me the saucy little redhead song. I remember sitting by his knee the Sunday before his surgury to remove the tongue cancer as we recorded him singing all his favorite tunes from the 40s. Songs he had sung again and again and for any and every occasion. (A, you're adorble, B, you're so beautiful, C you're a cutie full of charmes...)

He was the candy man. The jars and dishes were always full... and so were his pockets and church I hear.

His wavy grey hair was always neatly combed back, his shirt carefully tucked in, and often matching his shoes. His work clothes always hung from the hooks opposite the mirror in the "kid's bathroom." He was a hard worker. He loved to showoff his garden. He loved to see us smile.

As Grandma would talk and tell stories when we came to visit, he would sit in the green swivle chair opposite her and add a note here or there. He wasn't usually noticibly in the middle of things. But he was.

His wood art--the birds and musical notes he carved--were beautiful and reticent of the things he treasured. Long Beach--home. The music he always sang and the music his wife and daughters filled the home with. Diligence. Attention to detail. Long hard work.

His scriptures and a small trash can sat hidden behind his green chair. The trash can so he could throw away hsi candy wrappers without having to get up. He lived a good life. He loved us unequivically. He loved the gospel. I don't know that ever recall doubting that he had a testimony, even though I also don't ever remember hearing him bear it with words. It was an implicit part of him.

I miss him. I ache to think of Grandma living without him. But I know he isn't really gone. I'll see him again someday. And in the meantime I hope to carry on his legacy, to teach my children about this good and great man who helped shape my childhood and my view of the world. To teach them of the righteousness, the valiency and love and gift for living that he left.

The wee one

Ever since those little lines showed up on the home pregnancy test, I have been on pins and needles to know just what this little bun (in my oven) will be. The last week and a half I have begun to feel movement and kicking and flurries, which have only heightened my anticipation. Would it be little red truck or little red sunbonnet susans in that imaginary nursury I have been scheming up for the past four months? Would it be sugar and spice and everything nice or snips and snails and puppy dog tails?

For some reason (that 177 beats per minute heartbeat way back in October might have had something to do with it) everyone was convinced it was a little girl.

But us Christiansens like to keep people on their toes. It looks like our very own, cute as can be, little BOY bun is on the way! And we couldn't be more excited.

I will say, the ultra sound was very fun. I had had one before (at 14 weeks) when I was threatening a miscarriage. That one was stressful. This one was all delight. The technition was great. We got to see him moving and kicking all over his little placenta. And at the end the technition took a few 3D pictures. It is very surreal to look at that tiny little face and know that in just a few months I'll have my own little boy to love and hold and nurture.