53 is the New 99

I don't mean to go all political on you or anything, but I came across this article today and I thought it was a very interesting response to the "Occupy" movement. Granted, I have admittedly limited knowledge of the full scope of the movement (as I believe, is true of most of the protestors themselves) as well as even more limited knowledge of solutions. But I have for sometime resented being placed in a cohort (the "99%") with whom I do not identify nor share in their (confused) rallying cry.

http://money.cnn.com/2011/10/26/news/economy/occupy_wall_street_backlash/index.htm?source=cnn_bin

My favorite part is the sign from the picture - "You want to "occupy" something? Occupy a job."

I'm not saying it's that easy. I understand that poverty is a daunting cycle, that opportunities, education and jobs are very limited to those born into lower socio-economic backgrounds, that greed, corruption and selfishness often overtake basic human decency and compassion (whether you're a 1% or 99-er).

But you have to admit - it's catchy.

Evolution of a Mom

I haven't been around for awhile. I've let a few things slide. Ignored the guilt of not constantly engaging in this completely voluntary and optional and inconsequential endeavor. Like every good Mormon Mommy. But at least I've finally finished making learning packets for Landon's pre-pre-preschool program I'm starting with him, complete with glittery finger puppets and pop up pages of scripture stories.

And now I feel guilty because I'm completely lying to you.

In reality, I don't keep this up regularly because I feel like this:

Thanks to this:

 Combined with this:

Who, incidentally, has gained an alarming proficiency with this:

I'm not sure how it happened, but it may have something to do with the fact that, in general, all I want to do is this:

On an unrelated note,
I want to eat this:

Martha Stewart Image

And look like this:

I see nothing inconsistent with that. Let me reside in my hormone-induced fantasy world.




In my mind, I look like this:

Except instead of rising majestically from the sea, imagine it sprawled on the couch with various food crumbs adorning it's belly. 

But in all fairness, I'm sure I really just look more like this:

What? It's slightly smaller.

But pretty soon, I'll look like this:

Only my pouch will be a baby bjorn. Also, I think I'm missing another pretty important member of my offspring. Which will also most likely happen quite a few times. 

So, forget taking your kids to the zoo. Just bring them over here and see what creature I morph into each day. I promise not to scare them. Much. 

You can find me in my natural habitat:

Notice the lack of No Feeding signs. Just pointing it out. 

Because "I'm Awesome" would just be redundant

Colbert Report - Yaweh or No Way?: Mormons & God's Poll Numbers

Just to let you know - I really don't do anything of interest or merit other than the ability to change my son's diaper while he is running. And I grow people in my belly even though I complain about it. A lot. Also, I know all the words to every Ace of Base song - all three of them.

And I'm a Mormon.

Dr. America

We recently heard about a couple of our friends who have job opportunities in far flung places overseas. Both of these friends are in the business field and are at various levels of excitement about the possibility of living for awhile outside the red, white and blue borders (chopsticks? will I have to use chopsticks??! how have they not discovered the fork yet?).

I had the opportunity to live in Russia in high school and I absolutely loved it. It changed my outlook on life, my view of the world and so many other things that I consider it to be one of the most formative times of my life. So I was bemoaning to Tyler that our kids wouldn't have the opportunity to ever live overseas since plastic reconstructive surgery is not a big global/export-type job.

 I know, I know. My husband is a plastic surgeon! My kids won't get to live on a Mediterranean beach! WAAH WAAH! Don't worry, I hear myself. But I also want to raise kids who are aware of the world around them, and more importantly, the people around them. I want them to understand that not everyone lives like we do - and that's okay. I want them to understand how incredibly blessed we are and also to appreciate the richness of intricacies of other cultures. I feel that the best way to do that is to be there and see it. 

Tyler plans on making quite a few humanitarian trips for medical missions all over the world, and once the kids are old enough I want them to come along and help in any way they can. But living there is completely different than a one week speed course. Would I have had the chance to visit tiny villages in Siberia, track voles at a spartan Russian bio-reserve which also had it's own dance club (naturally), experience the horrors of gridlock Moscow traffic when cars have decided to screw it and just drive on the train tracks, have market vendors trying to sell me abnormally large and misshapen produce that I later find out was harvested near Chernobyl, have my neighbor's kids tell me that their father - the one with the mercedes and driver constantly waiting for him to speed away at a moment's notice - was just a house painter, be almost kidnapped by a boozy-smelling construction worker who offered me 3 rubles to buy a metro pass because I didn't have any money and was stranded at the metro station and everyone else who looked well off had ignored me when I tried to ask for help and I was crying and he said that I needed to come home with him to calm down and he would take care of me and what's my phone number and where do you live and how can you not know how to say your phone number in Russian when you've been speaking with me for the last 5 minutes and once I distracted him I ran behind a wall and hid until he got on his train. And I only got to live there a year - how much more I wanted to do and experience! Would I have had any of those experiences in a week? Probably not. 

So...on second thought about having my kids live overseas...

Anyway. The good news is that I just found out about some great overseas opportunities for plastic surgeons! In North Korea and Hungary! 

North Korea sounds particularly enticing with Kim Jong Mentally-Il as the leader (Look! I just got on their watch list. There! Now I have two strikes! Now we won't be able to get in the country. Or, more likely, out). Hungary may be exciting too - I mean, beauty pageants FOR plastic surgery!?? What more could a plastic surgeon who  spends most of his time putting people back together after cancer, accidents or other traumas (the majority of real plastic surgery cases) want? And how proud of their dad would the kids be? (see that contestant up there wobbling in her heels because her boobs are bigger then what should be humanly possible? Yeah. That's my dad's handy work. No, I won't donate to your charity for starving children. Can't you see I'm watching something important??). 

For now I guess we'll just stay put here in America. I suppose it offers everything we're looking for in terms of job security, freedom and food. I guess there's always L.A., which, I suppose for us Ohioans, is as good as foreign. 

Quick! Take the Picture Before the New Kid Comes!

We did it! We actually had family pictures taken. And it only took two years of Landon's life to do it. As far as anyone knows, this child doesn't exist except for various beach, OSU football and "look how messy I am" documentation. I suppose that's his natural element anyway.

These are also the first real pictures Tyler and I have had taken in seven years. Seven years! We were young, we were carefree, we were...in a wedding dress and tux. Yes, that's the last time we had pictures. I tried to get Tyler to go with me to Glamour Shots at the mall a couple times but for some reason he always just stared at me and then walked away. Lame.

Anyway, here's a few of my faves from the day (meaning the ones that Landon is not screaming in - and a couple where he is). You'll notice he has a toy truck in his hand for some of the pictures. We were also feeding him snacks in between takes. Next time, I'm going to have the fit just to see what I get.

Thank you to Ally - our fantastic, talented, patient, creative, wonderful photographer!! No one crouches down and fake hiccoughs to entertain a toddler quite like you!

Letter To My Belly

A good friend of mine recently told me that she writes letters to her unborn child. She writes about her dreams for her daughter and the things that scare her and touch her heart. I thought this was a wonderful idea and will open the foundation for an unparalleled bond that mother and daughter will cherish.

I thought I might give this a try myself. But, my friend is thoughtful, creative and dreams in big writing in the sky whereas I tend to sit on the grass and notice all the dead plants around me. So when I sat down to write a letter, here's what I came up with:


Dear Baby in my Belly, 


I don't appreciate the addition of love handles you've added onto your temporary home. Really, not necessary. 


Love, 


The Woman Giving You Life


I wonder if this kid still thinks it has time to change wombs.

The Internet is a Scary, Scary Place

Good thing I got married so young. This may very well have been my future.

I wonder if she's seen the movie Must Love Dogs. I wonder if she hates it.

(ps - I felt bad for a second about spreading this girl's crazy around but by the end I was pretty convinced it was a joke. I think. I hope. Please, for the love of the future of humanity.)