tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44661081827563291232009-07-15T07:26:38.130-07:00The Harris FamOur happening lifeB and Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16871175123360345689noreply@blogger.comBlogger243125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4466108182756329123.post-76535008970878569742009-07-13T21:18:00.000-07:002009-07-13T21:23:12.492-07:00B is for break-up.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iUoVt3fjyH0/SlwHKLVIyEI/AAAAAAAABMA/KV_IML9Qnf8/s1600-h/tony-jess-9.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iUoVt3fjyH0/SlwHKLVIyEI/AAAAAAAABMA/KV_IML9Qnf8/s320/tony-jess-9.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358165528085579842" border="0" /></a>Is anyone else sad that Jessica Simpson and Tony Romo broke up? Surely I can't be the only one. I seriously thought that they were an adorable couple. Or at least, what was printed in US Weekly was adorable.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4466108182756329123-7653500897087856974?l=christanka.blogspot.com'/></div>B and Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16871175123360345689noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4466108182756329123.post-83493673661040454822009-07-11T08:23:00.000-07:002009-07-11T08:26:06.061-07:00Can't get enough.<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iUoVt3fjyH0/SliuoksigzI/AAAAAAAABL4/8ZhNQRStJBI/s1600-h/fiber1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 250px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iUoVt3fjyH0/SliuoksigzI/AAAAAAAABL4/8ZhNQRStJBI/s320/fiber1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357223768825692978" border="0" /></a>For the past few weeks, I have not been able to go a day without these things. They are so good and taste more like a candy bar than a granola bar. They're my new favorite treat!<br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4466108182756329123-8349367366104045482?l=christanka.blogspot.com'/></div>B and Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16871175123360345689noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4466108182756329123.post-18736964603839360722009-07-03T09:54:00.000-07:002009-07-03T10:06:59.402-07:00Ideas for adventures?Ben and I have started calling this summer "Adventure Summer," because we want to do as many fun things as possible before the bun makes his arrival. The trouble is, we can't think of anything to do! How lame are we?<br /><br /><br />Can any of you guys think of fun things to do in Utah? Mind you, being almost 7 months pregnant creates some limitations.<br /><br /><br />Please help! Also, I'm thinking that I have some lurkers- lurkers, please help with this too! Everyone is welcome here... well, maybe except for my DCFS clients. Eek.<br /><br /><br />Some perimeters for the adventures are:<br />1. Not crazy expensive. Yes, we're willing to spend money, but we're not going to drop $300 on a day-long activity.<br />2. Won't require more than 2 days of our time. I'm hoarding my work vacation days like a squirrel hoards nuts before winter. Except for my winter is called maternity leave.<br />3. Cannot have anything to do with golf. Ben already golfs enough to make me crazy.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4466108182756329123-1873696460383936072?l=christanka.blogspot.com'/></div>B and Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16871175123360345689noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4466108182756329123.post-20160424194202999772009-07-01T07:50:00.000-07:002009-07-01T07:59:27.325-07:00Now I understand.<div align="center">When I announced that I was preg, tons of people said, "Oh no, you have to be pregnant though the summer! It's going to be so hard!" My thoughts were, "Hello, it'll only be bad if I spend a lot of time outside. That's what a/c is for."</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">Now I understand. </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">Yesterday night I was in a 3 hour meeting in a small and cramped, yet air conditioned room. I swear, it felt like there was lava under my skin. Seriously, lava! I was so uncomfortably, unbelievably hot. I had to spend the entire meeting fanning myself with paper in order to get some relief. </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">Perhaps it's time to invest in a small, portable fan to take everywhere?</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4466108182756329123-2016042419420299977?l=christanka.blogspot.com'/></div>B and Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16871175123360345689noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4466108182756329123.post-72395932103225375872009-06-27T15:25:00.001-07:002009-06-27T15:38:55.299-07:00The Zoo- finally!<div style="text-align: center;">After getting rained out two weeks in a row, Ben and I were finally able to visit the Hogle Zoo! The weather was great and the crowds weren't too large.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iUoVt3fjyH0/Skac5Kww-CI/AAAAAAAABLM/Wt-iYI6rRQs/s1600-h/June+27,+2009+004.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iUoVt3fjyH0/Skac5Kww-CI/AAAAAAAABLM/Wt-iYI6rRQs/s320/June+27,+2009+004.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352137713131780130" border="0" /></a>I looove elephants, so I was way excited that they were out and about. We went to the Elephant Show and some poor little kid about 5 ft away from me got sprayed by the elephant's trunk. I'm happy that it wasn't me.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iUoVt3fjyH0/Skac5bJgHFI/AAAAAAAABLU/jryj2gJqub0/s1600-h/June+27,+2009+006.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iUoVt3fjyH0/Skac5bJgHFI/AAAAAAAABLU/jryj2gJqub0/s320/June+27,+2009+006.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352137717530500178" border="0" /></a>This elephant, Christie, is currently <span style="font-style: italic;">20 months pregnant!</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">And she still has two months to go! </span>Poor girl, I thought that 9 months was bad enough...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iUoVt3fjyH0/Skac6LGrebI/AAAAAAAABLk/auphRud6cbo/s1600-h/June+27,+2009+018.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iUoVt3fjyH0/Skac6LGrebI/AAAAAAAABLk/auphRud6cbo/s320/June+27,+2009+018.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352137730403563954" border="0" /></a>Cute Benjamin... he liked the bears, because "they're kind of like dogs, but a lot bigger." Uh-huh.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iUoVt3fjyH0/Skac53DJcRI/AAAAAAAABLc/3SS3xnMq6v8/s1600-h/June+27,+2009+014.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iUoVt3fjyH0/Skac53DJcRI/AAAAAAAABLc/3SS3xnMq6v8/s320/June+27,+2009+014.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352137725020041490" border="0" /></a>We love each other.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iUoVt3fjyH0/Skac6YoighI/AAAAAAAABLs/0t29rwubLSA/s1600-h/June+27,+2009+024.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iUoVt3fjyH0/Skac6YoighI/AAAAAAAABLs/0t29rwubLSA/s320/June+27,+2009+024.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352137734035243538" border="0" /></a>The giraffe building is so neat, because you are able to see the animals up close!<br /><br /> I can't remember if I blogged about my last zoo experience, but the last time I was in the giraffe building there was some lady that decided to nurse her baby. Great, fine, whatever. You guys know about my public nursing phobia. Anyway, this lady whipped out her tot, bent over to get something out of her diaper bag, rummaged around for a bit.... all with her tot hanging out... talked to her baby for a second, and then proceeded to nurse her baby publicly. No blanket, no nothin. Ben and I about died. <span style="font-style: italic;">Anyway, </span>this did not happen at today's zoo visit. Thank heaven.<br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4466108182756329123-7239593210322537587?l=christanka.blogspot.com'/></div>B and Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16871175123360345689noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4466108182756329123.post-79665223549270449212009-06-25T07:51:00.000-07:002009-06-25T07:55:20.537-07:00Cannot wait.<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iUoVt3fjyH0/SkOPLHmwXtI/AAAAAAAABLE/ea-Y292J4VI/s1600-h/movie.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351278203429215954" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 215px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iUoVt3fjyH0/SkOPLHmwXtI/AAAAAAAABLE/ea-Y292J4VI/s320/movie.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>This movie can't come out soon enough. After first reading the book about two years ago, I thought that it would be a great movie. Last year when I found out that they indeed making it into a movie, I was ecstacic. Finding out that two of my favorite actors were cast was just icing on the cake. </div><div> </div><div>Yayyyyy.</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4466108182756329123-7966522354927044921?l=christanka.blogspot.com'/></div>B and Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16871175123360345689noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4466108182756329123.post-72087404130437060132009-06-21T13:40:00.000-07:002009-06-21T13:50:42.306-07:00As previously mentioned...Here is a picture of the diaper bag Ben got me for Mother's Day. I'm in love with it and can't wait until I can actually use it! The man definitely knows me and my tastes.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iUoVt3fjyH0/Sj6bcDy2QSI/AAAAAAAABK8/CH0cXqRCKIU/s1600-h/005.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 316px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iUoVt3fjyH0/Sj6bcDy2QSI/AAAAAAAABK8/CH0cXqRCKIU/s320/005.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349884313719947554" border="0" /></a><br />Also, here's a picture of me at 25 weeks. No denying that I am in fact pregnant. However, some of my clients act all surprised when I mention something about the baby or taking maternity leave in October. They're all, "What?!? You're having a baby?" Ummm yeah, I didn't just swallow a bowling ball for lunch. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iUoVt3fjyH0/Sj6bb7oMrtI/AAAAAAAABK0/hkw9X4Vaw8E/s1600-h/001.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 203px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iUoVt3fjyH0/Sj6bb7oMrtI/AAAAAAAABK0/hkw9X4Vaw8E/s320/001.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349884311527796434" border="0" /></a><br />In weekend news, me and Ben's plans to visit the zoo on Saturday were rained out for the second Saturday in a row. Last time I checked, we lived in Utah, not Washington. Go away rain! Hopefully next Saturday's zoo attempt won't be foiled. I want to see some animals for crying out loud!<br /><br />Our rain plan meant eating lunch at 5 Guys and seeing The Proposal. Very fun movie, although the whole nude scene was a little...hmmm... special. You didn't really see anything, but very little was left to the imagination. Add sitting in the very front row in between your husband and MIL. Awkward and up close!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4466108182756329123-7208740413043706013?l=christanka.blogspot.com'/></div>B and Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16871175123360345689noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4466108182756329123.post-79957968790659999132009-06-15T14:57:00.000-07:002009-06-15T15:03:00.063-07:00Time for a vacation?<div align="center">Just now, I was thinking, "Today my job is making me suicidal."</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">Immediately after thinking that, Baby Danger gave me a huge kick. </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">I can only assume that he is agreeing with me. </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;">Disclaimer: No, I'm not seriously suicidal. My job is just stressful at times. Picture Harry Potter getting his life sucked away by the dementor in HP5. I am Harry Potter, my job is the dementor. Thank goodness this job has non-stressful times too. </span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4466108182756329123-7995796879065999913?l=christanka.blogspot.com'/></div>B and Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16871175123360345689noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4466108182756329123.post-42712293437992262012009-06-10T20:57:00.000-07:002009-06-10T21:00:24.884-07:00The Bump.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iUoVt3fjyH0/SjCA1XoGWNI/AAAAAAAABKE/ncoU56oAOQk/s1600-h/6-10-09+006.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 190px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iUoVt3fjyH0/SjCA1XoGWNI/AAAAAAAABKE/ncoU56oAOQk/s320/6-10-09+006.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345914412052404434" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">As requested, here is a picture of the bump. This was at 23 weeks. Sorry that it's not the best picture- the dress kind of makes things look misshapen. I'll take another one soon.<br /><br />Do you notice how high up the bump is? Seriously, this child is already taking up my rib space, or at least that's how it feels! It's going to be a long summer...<br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4466108182756329123-4271229343799226201?l=christanka.blogspot.com'/></div>B and Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16871175123360345689noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4466108182756329123.post-81724053016626605472009-06-08T18:23:00.000-07:002009-06-08T18:34:43.316-07:00Jeopardy time.Alex Trebek: Mrs. Harris was pulled over for this last night while driving down State Street.<br />Contestant #1: What is speeding?<br />Alex: I'm sorry, that is incorrect.<br />Contestant #2: What is running a red light?<br />Alex: That is closer, but incorrect.<br />Contestant #3: What is driving without her lights on?<br />Alex: Correct! You win a new tv!<br /><br />*It's true, I was pulled over by two officers last night (at the same time) for driving around in the dark. I also was missing my registration... mind you, my car is registered, but Mr. Harris recently removed the registration paper from my glove box without my knowledge and forgot to put it back. No lights + no registration = a night in jail? A big, fat ticket? Nope, due to my amazing work connections (or so I'd like to believe) I didn't get a night in jail or a ticket- just a warning. Hooray!<br /><br />** When the officers pulled me over they were definitely shining their flashlights in my backseat... you know, in case I had drugs or sawed-off shotguns just laying around. Nope, just a plate of cookies and a pair of flats.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4466108182756329123-8172405301662660547?l=christanka.blogspot.com'/></div>B and Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16871175123360345689noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4466108182756329123.post-12832562559315073892009-06-04T20:39:00.000-07:002009-06-04T20:41:54.833-07:00Bad kitty.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iUoVt3fjyH0/SiiTlYtxNMI/AAAAAAAABJ8/fydJDcjCjiE/s1600-h/kittens+033.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iUoVt3fjyH0/SiiTlYtxNMI/AAAAAAAABJ8/fydJDcjCjiE/s320/kittens+033.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343683228373955778" border="0" /></a><br />Oscar thought that it would be fun to help my mom and I paint the baby's room last week. He thought that it would be even more fun to run around the upstairs and leave blue tracks for us to clean up.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4466108182756329123-1283256255931507389?l=christanka.blogspot.com'/></div>B and Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16871175123360345689noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4466108182756329123.post-14778601703427092632009-06-03T15:49:00.000-07:002009-06-03T15:53:55.082-07:00I want, I want.<div align="center"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iUoVt3fjyH0/Sib-apcrYjI/AAAAAAAABJ0/DsLNvtrh_ZY/s1600-h/circuspic.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343237741677863474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 280px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 280px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iUoVt3fjyH0/Sib-apcrYjI/AAAAAAAABJ0/DsLNvtrh_ZY/s320/circuspic.jpg" border="0" /></a> How cute would this picture be in Baby Dylan's bedroom?</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">I'm going with adorable. </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;"><a href="http://www.landofnod.com/family.aspx?c=270&f=2782&pc=70">Found at Land of Nod</a></span><br /></div><div align="center"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iUoVt3fjyH0/Sib-MVxxMHI/AAAAAAAABJs/mMNH9vt5Ze4/s1600-h/picture.gif"></a><br /><br /><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4466108182756329123-1477860170342709263?l=christanka.blogspot.com'/></div>B and Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16871175123360345689noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4466108182756329123.post-16705292921318370422009-06-01T17:42:00.000-07:002009-06-01T17:48:10.534-07:00Another husband post.Sorry about all the husband posts as of late, it's just that Ben has been so fabulous lately. Even more fabulous than usual, in fact.<br /><br />Today was an absolute craptastic day at work. It was so awful I'm not going to torture myself (and you) by going into detail. However, I did torture Ben with the details. Poor husband.<br /><br />His response?<br /><br />"I'm sorry stink (pet name that I hate, but whatev), you should eat some pie and put on some ANTM."<br /><br />How fabulous is he?<br />1. He realizes the positive effect that pie has on my life and well being.<br />2. He knows what ANTM is. And uses it in proper context.<br /><br />Pie? Check. ANTM? Check. Smile? Check.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4466108182756329123-1670529292131837042?l=christanka.blogspot.com'/></div>B and Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16871175123360345689noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4466108182756329123.post-18037758064084850492009-05-30T16:40:00.000-07:002009-05-30T16:53:57.466-07:00Sad, but true.Today around noon I was upstairs in Baby Harris's room, working to finish painting the trim white. As I've lamented before (either on blog or in person), my ENTIRE HOUSE is painted this sick cream color. The ceilings, the walls, the trim, the doors... can you say vom? I'm determined that my firstborn will not be brought up to think that all walls, ceilings, etc are supposed to be that color, so I've taken matters into my own hands (read: broken the rules in my lease) and have unleashed my innner painter on the baby's room (btw, we've decided to name him Dylan... did you all know that already?).<br /><br />The ceiling is now white, the walls are an adorable blue, and the trim is 90% white. Once I get off my butt and finish the job it'll be 100% white, I promise.<br /><br />There is a point to this post, and describing the baby's room is not it. I'll have to save that for another day.<br /><br />Picture me in the baby's room, painting the trim, when I hear Ben come through the front door. The crazy man had a 6:45 am tee time and was just getting home. He calls me by a certain pet name that I detest and asks me to come downstairs.<br /><br />I bound downstairs and see that he has brought home Wendy's for his lunch and has brought me my very own Frosty. Seriously, my eyes about welled up with tears.<br /><br />How thoughtful is he to bring me one of my favorite treats without me asking him? I started jumping up and down and thanked him profusely.<br /><br />All he said in response was, "Well, I know that the way to your heart is through your stomach."<br /><br />So sad, so true.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iUoVt3fjyH0/SiHG-an1a3I/AAAAAAAABJk/2pXeGjIO-Uo/s1600-h/Frosty.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 176px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iUoVt3fjyH0/SiHG-an1a3I/AAAAAAAABJk/2pXeGjIO-Uo/s320/Frosty.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341769408638708594" border="0" /></a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4466108182756329123-1803775806408485049?l=christanka.blogspot.com'/></div>B and Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16871175123360345689noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4466108182756329123.post-53035397458214555232009-05-26T15:59:00.000-07:002009-05-26T16:22:57.982-07:00A few thoughts.-My mom just left after 6 days of hanging out. It was a crazy, busy weekend full of nursery planning, painting, shopping, registering, etc. We had a great time, but it was amazing how quickly the time passed. Come back soon mom!<br /><br />- Sorry about the lack of pictures for the past month. We got a new computer and haven't loaded our picture program on the new computer. I do have a bunch of pictures that I want to post!<br /><br />- The baby bump is in full swing. Seriously, about a week before the awful 8 pound gain Dr. appointment, I "popped." I definitely look pregnant, and I probably look like I'm more than 21 weeks.<br /><br />-Anyone else watching The Bachelorette? Can you believe the foot fetish guy? I agree with<a href="http://mormoninmanhattan.blogspot.com/"> No Sex and the City, </a>he's definitely got the gay vibe going on. And Jillian seemed to realize that he had a freaky obsession and still gave him a rose. What?!? Also, I'm loving the pilot guy and Kiptyn. Hopefully Jillian will keep them around and get rid of Foot Fetish.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4466108182756329123-5303539745821455523?l=christanka.blogspot.com'/></div>B and Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16871175123360345689noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4466108182756329123.post-78250778851376625192009-05-20T14:59:00.000-07:002009-05-20T15:10:38.860-07:00Fun is coming.<div align="center">As I type, my mom is on her way from Indiana to Utah! Hooray!</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">I always have the best time with my mom, whether we're just hanging out at my house or we're out and about doing activities. She will be here for 6 days, so we should squeeze in loads of quality time. </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">We have a definite agenda for the week- Operation Baby Harris Nursery. This includes painting, picking out furniture, and conquering the task of finding fabulous bedding. </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">Ben should be excited too, because he knows that whenever my mom is in town, we are always busy with something or another. This means lots of golf for him. </div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4466108182756329123-7825077885137662519?l=christanka.blogspot.com'/></div>B and Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16871175123360345689noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4466108182756329123.post-41813618947988432702009-05-18T13:41:00.000-07:002009-05-18T13:43:44.769-07:00Just breathe.<div align="center">Went to the doctor today for my 5 month check up. </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">Got weighed.</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">Saw a number I have never seen in my life. </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">Heaven help me, cause I about had a panic attack. Who gains 8 pounds in one month? Who?</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4466108182756329123-4181361894798843270?l=christanka.blogspot.com'/></div>B and Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16871175123360345689noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4466108182756329123.post-60041760890471626502009-05-14T07:55:00.000-07:002009-05-14T08:00:36.562-07:00Breakfast food means a lot to me.There are a few simple rules concerning breakfast food that must be followed in the Harris home.<br /><br />1. Husband cannot use the last of the milk unless he has already purchased a replacement gallon.<br />2. Husband cannot use the last of the cereal unless he has already purchased a replacement box.<br /><br />Violator of rules will be shot.<br /><br />Looks like poor Benjamin is getting shot tonight.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4466108182756329123-6004176089047162650?l=christanka.blogspot.com'/></div>B and Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16871175123360345689noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4466108182756329123.post-15476749326762752042009-05-11T13:17:00.000-07:002009-05-11T13:44:18.582-07:00Some help please.Now that we know that Baby Harris is in fact a boy, the next hurdle is figuring out how to do his nursery. It has to be cute, obviously. I've been laboring over finding a suitable bedding set, which has been very, very difficult. Why?<br /><br /><div align="center"><div align="center">I am anti-airplanes, trains, bugs, farm animals, Disney characters, etc. when it comes to bedding. Unfortunately, 98% of everything I see is immediately eliminated due to my list of "anti"s.<br /></div><div align="center">The only animals that I wouldn't hate seeing in Baby Harris's room are elephants or zebras. Not both of them together. Yes, I realize that I am beyond picky. </div><div><br /><br /></div><div align="center">Here are a few nursery sets that I don't hate. Please let me know what you think. And no, I am not crafty enough to sew the nursery set myself.</div><div><br /></div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334664096186425362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 282px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iUoVt3fjyH0/SgiIuzE44BI/AAAAAAAABI0/bZVmJqcD5dQ/s320/zebra.jpg" border="0" /><br />This one is from Pottery Barn kids. Note the zebras. Ben says, "Zebras have a weird vibe" but I don't know what he's talking about. </div><div><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334668775843256658" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 312px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iUoVt3fjyH0/SgiM_MKBWVI/AAAAAAAABI8/dvweFoHp_r0/s320/nursery.jpg" border="0" /><br />I love this one, but apparently my baby will die of SIDS or someting if I pick this one, or at least that's how I felt after talking to my mom.<br /><p align="center"></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334668779344766466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 312px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iUoVt3fjyH0/SgiM_ZM2JgI/AAAAAAAABJE/adDUcxDwmQM/s320/nursery2.jpg" border="0" /><br />Love this, very cute, but pretty pricey.<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334668776881938658" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 256px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iUoVt3fjyH0/SgiM_QBqYOI/AAAAAAAABJM/jU9SDDWwxc0/s320/nursery3.jpg" border="0" />A little too animal-y for me, but cute. I would only buy the crib skirt, bumper, and possibly mobile. Too many elephants for me!<br /><p align="center">Anyway, I need some opinions. What do you like/not like? </p></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4466108182756329123-1547674932676275204?l=christanka.blogspot.com'/></div>B and Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16871175123360345689noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4466108182756329123.post-61421100062955194292009-05-05T08:46:00.001-07:002009-05-05T08:57:19.277-07:00It's official.<div align="center">None of my pants fit. Not even my fat jeans. </div><br />Thank goodness for my Bella Band- it lets me wear my pants unbuttoned and unzipped without my pants falling down or without giving innocent bystanders an eyeful.<br /><br />I am greatly resisting maternity clothes at this point, although I know that I'll have to give in eventually. I'm just not ready yet! Maybe that means that I need to buy more maternity clothes? I vote yes.<br /><br />Another thing that I'm not ready for? Stretch marks. I've been religiously applying cocoa butter to my stomach, sides, and hips twice each day in efforts to avoid looking like I have claw marks across my midsection. Ben thinks that it's really funny and likes to poke fun at my efforts.<br /><br />Not saying that Ben has stopped being wonderful about all things baby Harris. He can't wait until he can feel him kick (btw, I've started to feel the "flutters." So weird!). In the meantime, Ben bought me the most fabulous Mother's Day gift- a Coach diaper bag. I'm in love with it- I want to carry it around as a purse right now, it's that beautiful. My husband knows my tastes.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4466108182756329123-6142110006295519429?l=christanka.blogspot.com'/></div>B and Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16871175123360345689noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4466108182756329123.post-1452901094302237972009-05-02T17:24:00.000-07:002009-05-02T17:41:14.943-07:00Just a word of warning.<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Do not</span> get an Arby's roast burger. They are not pleasant.<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />Mind you, I did not intentionally order a roast burger.<br /><br />Here's the story. Brace yourselves. Last night, Ben and I drove through Arby's for a 10pm dinner and I ordered my standard #1. Roast beef sandwich, curly fry, DDP. Ben ordered something else... something nasty with Swiss cheese. ANYWAY. I get home, open the bag, and realize that I did not get my regular roast beef sandwich, <span style="font-style: italic;">I got the dreaded roast burger. </span>Complete with bacon, cheese, lettuce, tomato.... basically, everything I <span style="font-style: italic;">wouldn't</span> want on my reg rb.<br /><br />I was livid. I got the phone book out and was ready to let the Arby's people know what I thought of their drive thru oder accuracy. Ben then reminded me that the most I would get from Arby's is an offer to get my regular rb if I come back. True, true. It was like 10pm, I wasn't going to leave my house <span style="font-style: italic;">again</span> to go to Arby's<span style="font-style: italic;"> again</span>. Sigh.<br /><br />I then decided to suck it up, scrape off the extra toppings and eat my plain roast burger complete with weird bun. It was not satisfying or pleasant.<br /><br />Bottom line, don't mess up the pregnant lady's food order. Bad things will happen and an angry blog will be posted.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iUoVt3fjyH0/Sfznf6f92GI/AAAAAAAABIs/T7WIYOEo_3o/s1600-h/angry+cat.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 134px; height: 170px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iUoVt3fjyH0/Sfznf6f92GI/AAAAAAAABIs/T7WIYOEo_3o/s320/angry+cat.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331390594365118562" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4466108182756329123-145290109430223797?l=christanka.blogspot.com'/></div>B and Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16871175123360345689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4466108182756329123.post-48507657773131559372009-04-21T17:15:00.001-07:002009-04-21T17:30:20.189-07:00It's Britney.Last week some of my best girlfriends and I went to the Britney Spears concert. It was fabulous! She did (I won't say "sang," because she didn't really bother with singing) all of her best songs and proved that even though she's a little on the crazy side, she can work it.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iUoVt3fjyH0/Se5i5jgjFlI/AAAAAAAABII/zGc3FvixBxg/s1600-h/DSCN2615.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iUoVt3fjyH0/Se5i5jgjFlI/AAAAAAAABII/zGc3FvixBxg/s320/DSCN2615.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327304150149699154" border="0" /></a>Here we are- Jacklyn, Stacey, me, Erna<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iUoVt3fjyH0/Se5iXjXOAVI/AAAAAAAABHQ/O0lL-q8ZjUc/s1600-h/DSCN2578.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iUoVt3fjyH0/Se5iXjXOAVI/AAAAAAAABHQ/O0lL-q8ZjUc/s320/DSCN2578.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327303565995016530" border="0" /></a>The Pussycat Dolls opened- they weren't bad at all.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iUoVt3fjyH0/Se5iX_2Yd_I/AAAAAAAABHY/B0OC3_pSf2c/s1600-h/DSCN2582.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iUoVt3fjyH0/Se5iX_2Yd_I/AAAAAAAABHY/B0OC3_pSf2c/s320/DSCN2582.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327303573641918450" border="0" /></a>Before Britney took the stage there were all sorts of Circus folk performing like this acrobat.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iUoVt3fjyH0/Se5iYDiRYJI/AAAAAAAABHg/zbaM9lnyEm0/s1600-h/DSCN2588.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 264px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_iUoVt3fjyH0/Se5iYDiRYJI/AAAAAAAABHg/zbaM9lnyEm0/s320/DSCN2588.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327303574631309458" border="0" /></a>The grand entrance!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iUoVt3fjyH0/Se5iYRsG0SI/AAAAAAAABHo/zBijlbw7C7U/s1600-h/DSCN2595.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_iUoVt3fjyH0/Se5iYRsG0SI/AAAAAAAABHo/zBijlbw7C7U/s320/DSCN2595.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327303578430656802" border="0" /></a>Before getting sawed in half.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iUoVt3fjyH0/Se5iYiGEEtI/AAAAAAAABHw/JOExEOnXySc/s1600-h/DSCN2603.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iUoVt3fjyH0/Se5iYiGEEtI/AAAAAAAABHw/JOExEOnXySc/s320/DSCN2603.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327303582834496210" border="0" /></a>Doing some songs in her Princess Jasmine outfit. Tre chic.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iUoVt3fjyH0/Se5i5HriR4I/AAAAAAAABIA/kATt_45WpRE/s1600-h/DSCN2613.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 230px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iUoVt3fjyH0/Se5i5HriR4I/AAAAAAAABIA/kATt_45WpRE/s320/DSCN2613.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327304142679590786" border="0" /></a>Back for her encore performing "Womanizer." Love that song!<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iUoVt3fjyH0/Se5i5GjyMxI/AAAAAAAABH4/0ByRGilfMGU/s1600-h/DSCN2607.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iUoVt3fjyH0/Se5i5GjyMxI/AAAAAAAABH4/0ByRGilfMGU/s320/DSCN2607.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327304142378644242" border="0" /></a><br />The concert was amazing, I'll give you that. But I can't not mention the other major performer at the Britney concert... the crazy drunk girl in front of us. She had two modes: the first was her rest mode, as pictured above. When she wasn't resting, she was dancing like there was no tomorrow. Check out the video below. This girl was so out of control that all of the surrounding people couldn't stop laughing at her and I <span style="font-style: italic;">know</span> that I wasn't the only one who got her on video. This video was before she dropped her open umbrella over the upper bowl ledge. Oops.<br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-3fcf038ceb27dc3f" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"><param name="movie" value="http://www.blogger.com/img/videoplayer.swf?videoUrl=http%3A%2F%2Fvp.video.google.com%2Fvideodownload%3Fversion%3D0%26secureurl%3DqAAAAKXn9zyzXTyW6NoE_4ojujrAjtbjekkX6ZNM1mI4Vui3wy3wP3u4Dotr0zDGRiOn_cQYsxfE1KJ6D6yq1WU5J4_2crzpW-72WPyEE3EhwcMmryDcANUY5aqYmjEfYifhlLA0RNYJwd5udUnxO3SQTx2t7btv467wEdCXZv_EAjqeiQkp4XdTCX5YQmQoi97MzT8aSEowGbqOONqV9akFo_VINj-Bkz6qd9TXAecbQabi%26sigh%3DKthaLy4DjT2H8_xXWofN0i2_yRk%26begin%3D0%26len%3D86400000%26docid%3D0&nogvlm=1&thumbnailUrl=http%3A%2F%2Fvideo.google.com%2FThumbnailServer2%3Fapp%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D3fcf038ceb27dc3f%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw320%26sigh%3DmS2pFFXTaAhp_MnKpOuq8OB3HTo&messagesUrl=video.google.com%2FFlashUiStrings.xlb%3Fframe%3Dflashstrings%26hl%3Den"><param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"><embed width="320" height="266" src="http://www.blogger.com/img/videoplayer.swf?videoUrl=http%3A%2F%2Fvp.video.google.com%2Fvideodownload%3Fversion%3D0%26secureurl%3DqAAAAKXn9zyzXTyW6NoE_4ojujrAjtbjekkX6ZNM1mI4Vui3wy3wP3u4Dotr0zDGRiOn_cQYsxfE1KJ6D6yq1WU5J4_2crzpW-72WPyEE3EhwcMmryDcANUY5aqYmjEfYifhlLA0RNYJwd5udUnxO3SQTx2t7btv467wEdCXZv_EAjqeiQkp4XdTCX5YQmQoi97MzT8aSEowGbqOONqV9akFo_VINj-Bkz6qd9TXAecbQabi%26sigh%3DKthaLy4DjT2H8_xXWofN0i2_yRk%26begin%3D0%26len%3D86400000%26docid%3D0&nogvlm=1&thumbnailUrl=http%3A%2F%2Fvideo.google.com%2FThumbnailServer2%3Fapp%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D3fcf038ceb27dc3f%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw320%26sigh%3DmS2pFFXTaAhp_MnKpOuq8OB3HTo&messagesUrl=video.google.com%2FFlashUiStrings.xlb%3Fframe%3Dflashstrings%26hl%3Den" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"></embed></object></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4466108182756329123-4850765777313155937?l=christanka.blogspot.com'/></div>B and Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16871175123360345689noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4466108182756329123.post-852888602582505632009-04-19T20:39:00.000-07:002009-04-19T20:44:36.369-07:00We couldn't wait any longer.For the past 12ish weeks that we've known about the baby, we've been dying to know whether it was a girl or a boy.<br /><br />We decided that we absolutely couldn't wait until 20 weeks, so we drove up to Salt Lake and went to an ultrasound center.<br /><br />And Baby Harris is...<br /><br /><br /><br />Drum roll please...<br /><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:180%;">A boy!</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:100%;">We're totally stoked about this- I always thought that it sounded nice for my other kids to have a big brother. The only thing I'm worried about is the activity level of the child. During both of my ultrasounds, the techs seemed really surprised at how much this baby was moving around. Seriously, flipping around, grabbing his feet, etc. I hear that I'm in for a ride.<br /><br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Let the shopping begin!</span><br /></div></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4466108182756329123-85288860258250563?l=christanka.blogspot.com'/></div>B and Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16871175123360345689noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4466108182756329123.post-7861839055860167472009-04-14T09:20:00.000-07:002009-04-14T09:26:10.196-07:00My newest fear.<div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"> Cankles.</span> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324583262124810050" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_iUoVt3fjyH0/SeS4RBvwn0I/AAAAAAAABHI/4QGNURaoCXY/s320/cankle2.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><br />I hear that lots of prego girls go from having normal calves and ankles to suddenly having cankles once they hit the 3rd trimester. Eek.<br /><br />I truly hope that I will be spared from this affliction, cause I know that Ben and my dad will both make fun of me. You may be thinking, "Your dad? Really?" Yes. I've witnessed him making fun of his younger sisters for their alleged cankles or "goat ankles." I don't think that I will be immune from ridicule.<br /></div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;">ps- I promise that not all posts will be related to being knocked up. Just this one... any maybe a few more. </span><br /><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4466108182756329123-786183905586016747?l=christanka.blogspot.com'/></div>B and Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16871175123360345689noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4466108182756329123.post-66009582765698460472009-04-12T15:01:00.000-07:002009-04-12T15:16:19.609-07:00The details, the details.Q: When are you due?<br />A: October 4, which puts me at 15 weeks along.<br /><br />Q: How have you been feeling?<br />A: Pretty good for the most part. I've been insanely tired, but it's finally started to ease up. I think that Ben is getting tired of me going to bed at 9:30 every night :) There's been nausea, but it usually felt comparable to being kinda car sick. Again, it's easing up.<br /><br />Q: How is Ben doing with all this?<br />A: Don't let last post's picture deceive you. Although he looks a little dazed and out of it, I think it's because he had taken an Ambien about 30 minutes prior. Really, he's been great. I expected him to have a little freak out after getting the positive test, but he's been a trooper. He's way excited for a baby and refers to it as "The Bun."<br /><br />Q: It's just one baby, right?<br />A: Yes, although at our first ultrasound, the tech thought that it was twins. I nearly had a heart attack! She couldn't tell for sure, so she had me come back for another look two days later. Luckily, she was able to confirm that it was one baby in there, not two. Not that there's anything wrong with twins- hello, I'm obsessed with Taylor's girls- but I had barely gotten used to the idea of one baby in there, let alone two!<br /><br />Q: Any weird food cravings or aversions?<br />A: When I was 6 weeks, I had a 3 day stretch where I couldn't get enough Wendys. Since then, there haven't really been any cravings. Strangely enough, I kind of have an aversion to ketchup. This is very depressing to me, since ketchup was my favorite thing about fries and burgers. I can eat it and all, but it really doesn't sound the best.<br /><br />Q: Anything else?<br />A: I've had some crazy dreams so far... most recently about a man with a wooden eye who broke into my house and was trying to kill me. When I tried to chop him up with a kitchen knife, he turned into my cat Oscar. Also, my pants are starting to get tight already! I blame this on my insanely short waist. Seriously, when you have no torso there is nowhere for the baby to go but straight out.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4466108182756329123-6600958276569846047?l=christanka.blogspot.com'/></div>B and Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16871175123360345689noreply@blogger.com6