Cloverfield

**I felt our title needed an explanation so I'm editing Tyler's post. This is our reenactment of the movie Cloverfield, incidentally the movie we watched for Halloween. Basically there was a scary monster who attacked and everyone was very afraid. And then everyone died. The end.

In Tribute to Lu's Enduring Patience (Poor Girl Doesn't Know There's Another One Coming in Four Months)

My favorite part is when she periodically glares at me to say, "You remember when you brought me home and promised to take care of me? And I promised to be your loyal and faithful companion no matter what your beliefs were or what decisions you decided to make? WELL THIS CHILD WASN'T PART OF THAT DEAL."

Wienie Roast

I'd Like to Credit This Moment to Hanes Boxer Briefs, Size XS

"How did Talmage do with his new underwear last night?"
"Perfect. He went four times."
"What a big boy. I'm so proud of him."
"We even went together once."
"You what?"
"We both went in the toilet. At the same time. It was going happen at some time in his life. Somebody had to teach him."
"Boys are different than girls."
"The fundamental problem, though, is that I'm so much taller than him."
"No, the fundamental problem is that you are 28 years old."

To Make My Freshman Roommates Proud (Feuz, I'm Writing in Your General Direction)

Talmage's new favorite word is actually. He uses it independent of proper context. Like, "I want some candy, actually."

Which I'm pretty sure is how I use it. And I say it with a strong Utah accent. Because my name is Laura "Actually, I'm from Salt Lake" Paulsen (Howe).

The Play by Play of Events Leading Up To and Surrounding September 24, 2005

I was going to do this for Talmage's birthday, but, you know, life happened full of details that I can't remember right now and I'm a good month late. But with the current state of pregnancy I'm in right now, I'm worried I'm going to forget my experience of labor with Talmage, so I thought I'd document it in celebration of the three year and roughly one month anniversary of his birth.

Credit and props to Dooce, maybe the most intelligent and witty woman in Salt Lake, for the format of this entry. (The writing teacher in me also feels compelled to tell you that she lifted it from someone else, and rather than link you to the original source, I'm just sending you to Dooce's site. Scandalous.) I fully admit to not being the most intelligent and witty woman in Salt Lake, so I apologize if this is not that intelligent or funny. History, people. I'm documenting it for history.

September 9. 37 weeks pregnant. My doctor (heretofore knows as The Classiest 75 Year Old Woman Alive, Excepting Maybe My Grandma Sara) tells me that I'm dialated to about a 4 and that I'm 60% effaced. She also tells me that this isn't necessarily anything to get excited about and that it could be several more weeks before the baby is ready to come. I of course ignore that last part and plan on having my boy the next day.

September 10. While continuing to tell everyone that I'm still not sure about the name, I buy and paint wooden blocks spelling T-A-L-M-A-G-E. Because while I'm not sure about it, that is clearly the most important part of getting ready for a baby. The Pottery Barn style letters on the wall.

September 11. I have dinner at my mom's house. She asks me if my Master's thesis is written. (It's not, by the way.)

September 12-22. Mom continues to ask if my Master's thesis is written.

September 23 about noon. The Classiest 75 Year Old Woman Alive, Excepting Maybe My Grandma Sara tells me at my 39 week appointment that my body is very ready to have a baby. I thought that's what she told me two weeks earlier. But I have Group B Strep, a problem that can be cleared up easily with a round of penicillin, and so maybe I should go home and talk to my husband about when I want to have a baby. I say, "Leave my husband out of it. I want to have a baby right now." She calls the hospital and they are full, so she tells me to go home and wait for them to call me.

September 23, 1:00 pm. I call my mother and tell her "I'M GOING TO HAVE A BABY TODAY!" She responds, "Sounds like you have a couple of hours. Maybe you should get your thesis written." I passively aggressively ignore her and her misplaced faith in my ability to write roughly 120 pages in two hours and instead clean the fridge.

September 23, 4:00 pm. Fridge is clean. Still waiting for the hospital to call.

September 23, 4:05 pm. I decide that maybe if I stare at the phone it will ring faster.

September 23, 4:06 pm. I intensify the staring.

September 23, 6:00 pm. We take Lu on her last walk as the most cherished member of our family. We get Cafe Rio to go. Still waiting for that phone call.

September 23, 11:00 pm. Still no call.

September 24, 3:00 am. The hospital calls with a bed for me. I tell them I'll be there in 15 minutes. I have a momentary crisis, because I'm pretty sure I'm not supposed to wear my LDS underwear to the hospital, so I instead shimmy a lacy black lingerie-style thong up over my pregnant thighs and hitch it up under my swollen and stretch-marked belly.

3:20 am. I arrive at the hospital and they direct me to a room. I change into a hospital gown.

3:24 am. The nurse arrives to hook me up. She spots my lingerie in the corner and very courageously stays composed. I'm sure a career with angry pregnant and soon to not be pregnant women who spend much of the time screeching in pain will do that to you.

4:00 am. They start me on a penicillin drip and hook me up to pitocen.

4:01 am. I ask the nurse if my eyes should be itching and and my lips should be swelling.

4:02 am. The nurse turns down the penicillin.

5:00 am. I feel the first contractions. Kind of a tightening. I decide other women are whiners.

8:00 am. The Classiest 75 Year Old Woman Alive, Excepting Maybe My Grandma Sara shows up to deliver the baby. She is in green scrubs, with navy pumps and a full strand of freshwater pearls. She decides I'm ready and breaks my water.

8:05 am. I came fully planning on an epidural (really, do I need to know what the pioneers experienced when I was born with a full complement of painkillers available?) but the nurse assures me I should wait until I really feel something. Tyler leaves to go get breakfast and I figure I'll wait until he gets back.

8:06 am. The first real contraction hits. I feel something.

8:20 am. How long can it take Tyler to throw down a bowl of Cheerios? I'm ready for a nice breakfast of a stick in the mouth with a side of morphine.

8:40 am. If Tyler isn't back in 5 minutes, not only am I getting an epidural without him, but I am also refusing to change any diapers. For any of our kids. Ever.

8:43 am. Tyler returns. I immediately send him to get the anesthesiologist.

8:53 am. The anesthesiologist enters and begins to analyze my state. On a scale of one to ten I tell him I feel like an eight.

8:54 am. I vomit all over the room. It's a pretty convincing eight.

8:57 am. The epidural is in. I decide drugs are the most glorious invention of mankind. I'm ready for more. Any propositions to ammend the constitution and legalize marajuana? I'm ready to sign.

9:30 am. Tyler and I decide to watch a movie. We pick Top Gun.

11:30 am. Top Gun isn't as good as you remember.

2:00 pm. The Classiest 75 Year Old Woman Alive, Excepting Maybe My Grandma Sara comes in and tells me I'm at a 10 and ready to go. The nurse turns down my epidural so I can feel the contractions to push against.

2:30 pm. I'm sure Tyler could give you more details from this part. I elected not to have a mirror so I could skip over these details. I'm sure you'd like to as well.

3:00 pm (ish). I push Talmage out. He is 8 lbs. 3 oz. and 22 inches long.

3:03 pm. Tyler has taken roughly 163 pictures.

Please Find Me!

Alma 45:18-19

And when Alma had done this he departed out of the land of Zarahemla, as if to go into the land of Melek. And it came to pass that he was never heard of more; as to his death or burial we know not of. Behold, this we know, that he was a righteous man; and the saying went abroad in the church that he was taken up by the Spirit, or buried by the hand of the Lord, even as Moses. But behold, the scriptures saith the Lord took Moses unto himself; and we suppose that he has also received Alma in the spirit, unto himself; therefore, for this cause we know nothing concerning his death and burial.

I feel it is very important that I keep myself from being too righteous, so I never run the risk of having the search and rescue decide I was taken unto the Lord while I'm really wandering aimlessly in the woods.

Poor Alma!

Getcha Head in the Game!

There is no arguing--these are the sexiest legs you will ever see!

Slippery Fish

Thank you, Barbara!

Nine Things I Am Irrationally Vain About

1. My fingers. I have very pretty fingers. Long and lean. I could have been a hand model and made millions.

2. My nailbeds. Totally different than my fingers. When I got a manicure before Homecoming senior year the manicurist told me I'd never need acrylics. And she's right. My nailbeds are beautiful.

3. My salads. I make a killer salad. I'm so obnoxiously proud of this that when someone complimented me about the last salad I made (with yellow peppers instead of red peppers so that combined with the tomatoes the color palette would be aesthetically pleasing and with an array of artfully spread avocados) I said, "Oh this? This isn't even a fancy salad."

4. How big my child is. Talmage is above average. He just dropped from 95th percentile of children to 90th percentile, and I have to say I was a little disappointed. This is a change from when I was panicked that I would have monstrously large children. I was also panicked about having weird looking children because little sister told me my kids were going to be interesting looking because Tyler and I look nothing alike. In your face, Guggy. Talmage is blindingly attractive. And you're going to have children with big heads.

5. How small my feet are. Granted, they're a size 7, but have you ever heard of a woman who's 5'9" with only size 7 feet? I didn't think so.

6. The bibliography at the end of my thesis. It's nine pages long. When I was writing my thesis I used to have a little personal celebration involving Alexander the Grape candies each time I bumped to a new page. It's very pretty.

7. My knowledge of 60s and 70s music. This was my only selling point with guys in high school and college. I was never the cool girl who could play a game of pick-up basketball or throw a football with alarming accuracy. But I knew all about Keith Moon's death from elephant tranquilizers and that all of the Eagles members majored in music in college. And that was COOL. (Didn't get me too far with Tyler since he didn't care about this knowledge in the slightest. Good thing I had more than a working familiarity with Billy Joel.)

8. My ability to pound candy. I can eat a large size bag of Starbursts in one sitting without breaking a sweat.

9. My hair. It's long and thick and fine and, well, maybe that's not irrational. I have GREAT hair.

Sugar House Hill

Talmage the Biker

This video is a contribution from Talmage's great uncle Kevin--and I do mean "great!"

Announcing the Gender of Ebeneezer Ichabod Paulsen Paulsen Howe

It's a boy.