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.

A Classic California Christmas

I love Christmas. I love coming home for Christmas. I love pulling into the driveway (this year we were towed in... but you get the idea) and having my mom and dad come out to greet us. I love the white lights and decorations and nativities everywhere (my mom now has over thirty). I love the smell of carmels and cinnamon jells and cinnamon rolls.

I love going to Naples in Long Beach to walk up and down looking at all the beautifully decorated harbor homes. I love late night movies with Paige. I love sleeping in. I love playing Christmas songs on the piano--and, even more, to sing all the Torgerson and Snowball classics with my mom playing.

I love (LOVE) Christmas Eve. The fancy dinner with candles and martinellies and all the turkey trimmings. I love the program we do every single year--the stories that make Mom cry, the singing, the Sees Candies, the stockings on the chairs, and the Miracle on 34th Street and The Grinch watching that happens upstairs as we fall asleep, waiting for the magic to take it's toll.

I love Paige's inability sleep and her bouncing energy at 6:30 am Christmas morning. I love the parade down the stairs as we go to greet the gifts of Christmas. I love taking our time opening stockings and watching as the Santa presents are opened (Santa doesn't come to married folk, so we patiently waited our turns as Paige and Blake make their way through their piles). I love that my dad sits by the tree and tosses the presents to us one by one. I love capturing Paige's great reactions on presents she especially hoped for or that came completely unexpected. I love the migration to the kitchen for homemade cinnamon rolls and hot chocolate and talk of the gifts.

I love the missionary phonecall as we all fan around the speaker phone and three-way in those who didn't come home this year. The jumble of conversations, the cascade of questions.

I love the lazy morning in pajamas and the slow processions to the showers to get ready to go to the Grandmas' houses. I love walking into Grandma Snowball's house and being greeted by the aunts and the 100+ santa decorations strategically placed throughout the house. I love the candy dishes and the ongoing conversations and the red sweaters in abundance. I love the traffic in the kitchen when dinner is served and the slouching in the chairs and recliners when finished. I love the music--the classic Snowball music--and the feeling of unity and we all sing the familiar carols and blend our voices in the familiar harmonies. An Old Fashioned Christmas. Were You There. Who Would Send a Baby. Silent Night Lullaby. I love it when the sweet soup is brought out and the adults come carrying their cream-filled bowls in their hands to the living room (while us non-sweet-soupers scramble for the creamsicles). I love the sigh of the day as we climb back into pajamas and watch a movie or read a new book, warm with the day's doings.

I love waking up the next morning and wishing Mom a Happy Birthday and then getting to partake of the usual festivities for that day (shopping with Mom, out to lunch, a movie). I love the piles of unwraped presents that fill up the suitcases and floorspace of the rooms because we don't quite want to put them away yet.

I love being home for Christmas. The scramble to be ready, the excitment and calm of the day, the lazy haze of the aftermath. I'm a little sad to be leaving today in just a few hours to go back to my own apartment and another week of vacation. There is nothing quite like being home for the holidays. I wish it never had to end.

Crazy car happenings...

So Saturday afternoon we were making our way down the I-15 after a glorious night and morning with Sara and Stanford (that included a salmon dinner... a full-on breakfast, fun conversation, and a good night's sleep) when something big and white and scary flipped out off the road and hit us in the windshield. We think it was a car bumper (at least that big) that the truck in front of us ran over. I was sleeping and all Jeremy could think to do in the second is duck. It didn't break through (luckily, or I wouldn't be here to write this post), but it did shatter the glass on the far driver's side and break a hole in the lamanent (between the two pieces of glass of the windshield) and force us to pull over. After assessing the damage, getting as much glass out of our clothing as possible, and trying to drive a little further, we realized that we would never make it the 80+ miles home (we were just outside of Victorville). So we did what anyone else would do... we pulled into a cheap hole-in-the-wall Mexican restaurant and called for a tow truck (thank you AAA!) and ate some of the most delicious food this side of Mexico (for future reference, it's called Taco Chon and it's the very first exit coming into Victorville... before it looks like you've reached civilization).

We were hit about 1:00/1:15pm and we got home about 7:00pm, so it made for a full-0ut adventure. I'm just glad we are alive!

Sleigh bells ring... are you listening?

Once upon a time there was a little girl who had a little curl right in the middle of her forehead. And she lived in Cedar City where the snow came down so hard she wished she had a sleigh instead of a tiny, low-to-the-ground hatchback to get around in...

But that doesn't matter any more because now she has left the land of snow and is on her way to California (currently she is in her pjs at her sister's house in Vegas but will soon continuing the journey to HB). She finished all her projects (almost) and Christmas sewing and baking and hours of working... and is ready for a whole glorious week of helping her mother finish all her projects and sewing and baking. She is ready for homemade cinnamon rolls and hours of movie watching and turkey making and present giving.

And she hopes to catch up on all her blog reading and blog writing (since the internet is stable at the parent's home) and sleeping.

And she hopes your Christmas week is looking just as merry and bright!

My new favorite blog

I've decided I need to read the blog of anyone who makes homemade graham crackers (mmm...) and ties them with red ribbons. Don't you agree?

Hooray for Christmas Trees!

Isn't it cute? Don't get me wrong... we are definitely going to be real-christmas-tree folks (bought off a lot, of course...), we just have to move out of Utah to somewhere where they sell them on lots again! Our little 4 1/2 foot beauty came to us curtesy of Roberts (craft store) at half price! Can't beat that. I had all the trimmings from last year's tree extravaganza (aka lots of homemade cinnamon/gingerbread ornaments... they sort of make up for the lack of real tree smell in the apartment). I am still planning on making a fabric garland... and if my internet works and my computer works and my tummy isn't doing backflips when I look at the computer screen... you just might get to see it!

In the meantime...

Merry Christmas!

Hot cross buns

Hot cross buns

Hot cross buns

One a penny

Two a penny

Hot cross buns

For those of you who don't yet know...

There's a bun in my oven!

And I'm pretty dang excited about it :)

(But please don't ask me to eat anything like what is pictured at the top of the page or I for sure would lose my cookies... does morning sickness ever end? Really?)

So Sad

Just so you know, I'm not going back on my promise to be a better blogger... I just don't know what to do when my computer freezes everytime I turn it on. Anyone know how to get rid of what seems to be a nasty virus (possibly on Mozilla)??

Sigh. Not I.

In the meantime, I'll cross my fingers I'll see you soon.

Yes on Prop 8

I haven't written anything on my blog about Prop 8, but that's not to say I haven't been following it closely. I remember Prop 22 in 2000--my senior year--with vivid clarity. Mostly my busy senior schedule only allowed me to make phone calls, while members of my ward and community walked streets, knocked doors, posted signs. We donated money and time and prayer. This time I am not in California, and thus not able to donate much more than my means. And a lot of prayer and encouragement and support as my family and home stake rallied around the Prophet's call to donate time and means and resources to defending the doctrinal truth that marriage between a man and a woman is ordained of God. While it is tempting to simply appease homosexuals in their desires for gay marriage, I cannot shirk the truth embedded deep in my heart that it is terribly wrong, for any of us, in any manner, to justify sin. And I know that marriage between a man and a woman is an integral, even essential, part of God's Plan of Salvation for his children. I know that any other way is not only contrary to His plan, but in fact sin. And while this issue, with Prop 8 in California, goes deeper and affects so many other things, this is the root of why I support it.

So two nights ago (November 4th), when I got home from work, I was not terribly interested in the exit poll results for the new President. I was a whole lot more worried about how Proposition 8 was doing. I hunted and searched and googled until I finally found a website (www.latimes.com) that showed the fluxuating results as more and more precincts reported. I hit refresh over and over and over again, watching the 56% yes (at 12% reporting) get closer and closer to 50%. All night long I woke up with dreams that the yes vote crossed the line into the minority. When the alarm finally sounded, I raced downstairs to hit refresh again.

By the end of yesterday, with 99.7% of precincts reporting, and 52.5% yes, I finally was at ease.

I can't tell you how grateful I am, first of all, that it passed (and it passed in Arizona and Florida). And secondly, for all of the countless hours and prayers and money and work that went in by so, so many Californians (and others) who fought so diligently for the cause. I know their efforts were consecrated. I know the prayers to touch the hearts of the people were answered. And I know that it made a difference. Thank you.

Once upon a time...

For at least the past five years running (minus the mission, of course), I have donned my reddest shoes and the Little Red Riding Hood cape my mom made years ago, and stepped into a fairy tale for Halloween. This year I dressed up for our work Halloween Family Fun Night on Thursday. I loved skipping around with my basket of bread and fruit in tow.

What is it about living in an alternate reality that is so appealing? For as long as I can remember, I have loved fairy tales and fantasy stories. And I have, honestly, tried hard to emulate some of my favorite fiction characters all my life.

As a little girl, I wished with all my heart that I could be as good and kind as Cinderella. I loved the Disney version where she spoke with animals (which scare me in real life) and sang like a lark. I wished I could do the same. I tried so hard to do whatever chores my mother gave me without complaining--just as Cinderella would have.

Of course, I have also long been in love with Miss Anne Shirley. I loved the movies and the books (still do) and wished I could be as feisty and fun and fanciful as she. In the books, she has this magical way of seeing the fairies and of building castles out of wild flowers and sunsets. I wished I could be as imaginative as she never failed to be. I always feared I was as a daft as dear Diana, despite my red hair.

When I read Les Miserables in high school, I was moved beyond measure by Jean Valjean. I wanted to be as noble and humble and worthy of respect.

In college when I first read The Blue Sword by Robin McKinley, I was impressed by Harry's strength, her resolve, her determination. I wondered what it would be like to be stolen in the night and to ride a horse bare-backed. Someday, perhaps.

Even my little Red Riding Hood, whom I imitate each year at Halloween is described as "a little village girl who was a sweet as sugar and as good as bread. Her mother loved her very much, and her grandmother was even fonder of her." Who doesn't want to be as sweet as sugar and as good as bread? I do!


If you could be (or be like) any fictional, fanciful, fairy character, who would YOU be?