“You’re the ONE that I love!  Ha, ha . . . get it?!?”  That’s how BT answered the phone when I called to tell him the results of today’s doctor’s appointment.  I didn’t even have to tell him that I was STILL dilated to a ONE.

I’m not lovin’ being a “ONE,” but one week from today when I’m induced, none of that will matter anymore. 🙂

No, “Tight One” is not a nickname for BT, Mr. Frugality.

It’s how Dr. MacDonald described my “dilation” progress.  If I were in a “glass-full” kinda mood, I’d say–Yippee!  One down, nine to go.  But I’m not in that kinda mood.  Not even close.

Two weeks and a few days until my due date, and I’m only a “Tight One.”  What’s up with that????

On a happy note, our sonogram showed a healthy baby boy estimated to currently weigh 6 lbs. 14 ozs.  When I showed Vivi the sonogram picture, she was mesmerized and didn’t want to give it back.

I personally think that 4D ultrasound pictures look creepy, but here it is for posterity’s sake:

Happy Birthday, Mom!

If I could give you any gift, it would be to turn back time and be a better daughter–to give you more occasions to smile, to be more helpful and more grateful.  Unfortunately, time travel is not my forte, so I hope that my determination to be as faithful a mother to my children as you are to yours will suffice.

The topic of motherhood seems to be on my mind a lot these days, particularly as the birth of our baby draws near.  Memories of a rewarding career accompanied by mind-expanding projects, big paychecks, and lots of pats on the back are still fresh in my mind as I go about my present-day tasks of scrubbing toilets, wiping bums, folding mountains of never-ending laundry, and wondering how in the world I’m going to manage it all with a newborn added to the mix.  And then there’s the physical discomfort associated with the final weeks of pregnancy.  At times, particularly at the end of the day, I truly wonder how in the world I’m going to find the spiritual, physical and emotional strength to get out of bed in the morning and do it all again.  And then my thoughts turn to my mom.  She did it, and so must I.

I always knew that I loved my mom.  I’m sure that every child does.  But there were times during my teenage years that I was sassy and downright cruel to her.  On more than one occasion, my dad would sternly and appropriately remind me, “Your Mother put her foot in the grave to give you life!”  Oh, how I regret the disrespect I showed and pain I must have caused, because now that I am a mom, I have a deep understanding of exactly the types of sacrifices she made for me.

Thank you, Mom, for your example of selflessness, patience and love.  I hope that you have a wonderful day!

“The noblest calling in the world is motherhood.  True motherhood is the most beautiful of all arts, the greatest of all professions.  She who can paint a masterpiece, or who can write a book that will influence millions, deserves the plaudits and admiration of mankind; but she who rears successfully a family of healthy, beautiful sons and daughters whose immortal souls will exert an influence throughout the ages long after paintings shall have faded, and books and statues shall have decayed or been destroyed, deserves the highest honor that man can give, and the choicest blessings of God.”  ~David O. McKay

“WHEN I AM BAPTIZED”

[audio:http://tolberts.org/lori/Audio/rainbows.mp3]

I like to look for rainbows whenever there is rain
And ponder on the beauty of an earth made clean again.

I know when I am baptized my wrongs are washed away,
And I can be forgiven and improve myself each day.

I want my life to be as clean as earth right after rain.
I want to be the best I can and live with God again.

Surrounded by family and friends–including Grandma & Grandpa Hess, Aunt Heidi, Aunt Lisa and Gran Tolbert–Ariana was baptized and confirmed a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints by her dad, John Bryan Tolbert, on Saturday, September 6, 2008.

As I helped Ariana put on her new baptism dress, I couldn’t help but think about a similar day, 8 years ago, that I dressed my precious newborn daughter in her blessing dress.  Ariana’s birth changed my life and heart forever.

Several times during my pregnancy, I questioned how Heavenly Father could possibly send me a child given the stormy circumstances of my life at the time.  Now I know that by blessing me with my sweet Ariana, He was sending me a rainbow.  She empowered me with the hope and strength needed to see us both through to brighter days.

I love you with all my heart, Ariana, and am so incredibly proud of the wonderful young lady you are becoming.

I want to be like my Grandma Hess–patient, loving, fun, kind, willing to endure all things to the very end . . .

I doubt that I will ever be able to completely fill her size 9 shoes (Naturalizer seemed to be her favorite brand), but I take pride in the fact that I am like my grandma in a few ways.  She was a worrywart just like me, and we both love inspirational quotes, poems and stories.

One of my favorite memories of Grandma Hess is sitting on her bed with her while she watched Lawrence Welk and I culled through some of the spiral-bound volumes of treasures she had collected over the years.

Separated by the miles between CA and UT or CA and AU (while she and Grandpa Hess served in the Sidney Temple), she was so diligent in writing me (even weekly while I attended BYU), and she would frequently close her letters with a quote or two selected just for me based on challenges or experiences I may have been going through at the time.  Now, separated by the thin veil between here and eternity, I may not get letters from her, but once in a while, I feel her influence in my life and pause to contemplate how I can be more like her.  I had one such experience yesterday . . .

During Sunday School yesterday, our fabulous instructor (Katie Morphew) shared this quote that really hit home and reminded me of my grandma.

“Men and women who turn their lives over to God will find out that He can make a lot more out of their lives than they can.

He will deepen their joys, expand their vision, quicken their minds, strengthen their muscles, lift their spirits, multiply their blessings, increase their opportunities, comfort their souls, raise up friends, and pour out peace.

Whoever will lose his life to God will find he has eternal life.”

Ezra Taft Benson

(Thank you, Lindsay, for providing the pictures!)

As I walked in to the bathroom this morning to check on Vivi, this is what I found:

I wish that I could say that potty training was “in the bag.”

Once upon a time there were three bears . . .

Apparently very upset that Goldilocks would dare move into THEIR house, these three units have been BEARS all summer.  But you see, unlike the bedtime story, it’s Goldilocks’ name on the deed to the home.  And as she eats HER porridge, sits in HER chair, and sleeps in HER bed, by dang, she doesn’t want to have beads of sweat dripping down her brow because one or more of these three bears is grumpy.

So, when Goldilocks came home on Saturday evening to find her cottage HOT, she almost cried.  Four AC malfunctions in the last three months (some of the hottest months since moving to TX) was simply more than she could BEAR.  But gathering her wits about her, she tromped off to the side of the house, avoiding a rat as he scurried by, and confronted Papa Bear, the current offender.  Thankfully, past problems with Baby Bear helped Goldilocks zero in on the likely problem–

A Monday morning trip to Baker Distributing Co. in McKinney (the only local HVAC supply company I could find that will sell to the public) confirmed the diagnosis.  The ‘fan’ terminal on the old capacitor tested bad, a new part was purchased, and upon returning home, Goldilocks managed to quickly restore Papa Bear to an operational condition without electrocuting herself in the process.

Goldilocks estimates that she saved BT $157.26 by fixing the unit herself, and with his blessing, she promptly applied this $ toward the purchase of a CORDLESS drill.

Thanks, honey!

Over the last few days, I’ve been faced with a dilemma . . .

Do I fold the laundry that has accumulated for the last two weeks?

Do I make my bed?

Do I exercise?

Do I attempt to restore order to my pantry?

OR, do I work on finishing the cute “bow bag” that my sister Heidi and I picked up the pattern for while I was in UT last month.

Hmm . . .

I’d venture to guess that, for most people, the Olympics are inspiring.  Unfortunately, I’m feeling like a big, pregnant blob these days, so seeing beach volleyball players in their teeny weeny bikinis wasn’t doing a lot for my ego.  And then, as I watched Michael Phelps win his 8th gold medal, it dawned on me.  On behalf of all pregnant women of the world, past-present-future, I can hold my head high.  We are not so different from (and in many ways are superior to) these world-class athletes!

• Every time I try to paint my toenails or shave my legs, I have to exhibit nearly as much flexibility as Nastia Liukin!
• Completely exhausted,  as I climb our long flight of stairs for the umpteenth time at the end of the day, I’m demonstrating the stamina and determination of the most fatigued marathon runner.
• Hey, Kerri Walsh! My wedding ring doesn’t fit very well either.
• The media made a big deal about how little time Dara Torres had to rest between events.  Getting up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom AGAIN, after having just fallen asleep from the previous time, I can totally relate!
• Like the Olympic wrestlers, I’m desperately trying not to slip into the next weight category.  But despite my best efforts, I’m bearing a striking resemblance to some of the women shot putters.
• What’s the big deal about Kobe and the rest of the dream team?  All they have to do is fit a nice round ball through an amply-sized hoop.  No forceps or emergency c-sections needed there!
• Olympic athletes think that THEY have butterflies in their tummies?

And yet, on the day of my “medal ceremony,” I’ll have my eternal coach by my side, but there will be no primetime media coverage.  No one will be playing the national anthem.  Hopefully NO world records will be set.  But our angel straight from heaven will be more precious to me than any number of gold medals could ever be.  D-Day = 6 weeks, 6 days and counting!