She’s one lucky whale.


**This post, though perhaps seemingly written in my usual sardonic tone, is in fact entirely sincere. So watch out, and hang on til the end, cause I’m about to get mushy. Like real, real mushy.**

When my back hurts so badly I cannot sit or stand for more than 30 minute intervals…it’s hard to remember that I’m lucky to be pregnant.

When I have to wake up no less than four, no exaggeration, four times a night to use the bathroom, and then have to pee again immediately after pulling my pants back on…it’s hard to remember that I’m blessed to be pregnant.

When the numbers on my scale reach numbers that no 5’5″ woman’s scale should ever have to see, and I try my best to eat healthy but still for some reason, can’t help but feel entitled to multiple desserts a day…it’s hard to remember that I’m in fact very fortunate to be pregnant.

And when someone asks me, “WOW! Are you sure you don’t have twins in there?” And I reply, “Yeah, they just keep telling me there’s just the one baby in there…” and they respond with, “Well, as long as the doctors say you’re healthy…” IT’S ESPECIALLY HARD to remember that I’m lucky to be pregnant.

I’ve been struggling lately with the reality that even though I’m now in my third trimester of pregnancy, I still have to (GET TO…) be pregnant for another two and a half months. I’ve been a little depressed, anxious and self-conscious about my constantly expanding body, and the fact that I have no idea how to be a mom, live MY LIFE as a mom, or take care of the small wiggling lady who is constantly kicking me, once she breaks out of my body.

But today, honestly MINUTES after hanging up the phone with my sister, who I called to vent to because yet ANOTHER person had asked me, “So is there one baby in there…or two?” (HOW COMMON DO PEOPLE THINK TWINS ARE ANYWAY?!) I walked back in to work and bumped into a sweet girl that I see every once in a while around the building. She looked at me and said, “Oh! You look so cute!” And I said, “THANK YOU!” And then thought, “Finally someone who knows the only thing a pregnant lady wants to hear!”

A few minutes later, after returning to my desk, I got an email from her saying again how cute she thinks my belly is, and that she tries hard to not get jealous of big bellies like mine, because she is having a hard time getting pregnant, and that one day, she hopes she is lucky enough to have a belly of her own.

The email was very sweet and very sincere. She was in no way asking for sympathy, or lecturing me to remember how lucky I am. It was the nicest email in the world.


I did all could not to run (waddle) upstairs to her desk and shower her with tears of gratitude.

Isn’t it funny how God knows exactly what we need?

Because exactly what I needed, was a reminder of how lucky I am to be pregnant. And I really feel like she was maybe the only person who could do it, remind me exactly the way I needed to be reminded, at that moment.

The first four months of pregnancy, I cried all the time because I felt so fortunate to be given the opportunity to have a baby. But after a while, the sickness, the peeing, the muscle pains, and all the body image issues that resurface after years of being dormant, truly make it hard to remember how blessed us fat ladies are.

I wrote her back and told her that she was inspired, and that even though I sometimes felt like a whale, it was good to remember that I’m one very very lucky whale.

I wish I had more to blog about then pregnancy, but it’s pretty all consuming. However, instead of complaining (which I know I still did in a roundabout way!) and making jokes about all the “joys” of pregnancy, I wanted to sincerely express how overwhelmed with love and gratitude I am for the healthy baby in my belly. And the supportive husband I have who is just as excited for her arrival, if not more so, than me.

So for those of you who struggle getting one of those babies in your belly, I want you to know you are in my thoughts and prayers. And I promise to try to be better, and not to forget how unbelievably lucky I am.

I wanted to write these feelings down and share them, not to ask for reassurance from people that, “I’m a cute pregnant lady” or that “my feelings are normal” but because I wanted to make sure you all know how thankful I am to be pregnant. I know I joke a lot, and love to focus on the ridiculous aspects of giving life, but I am capable of focusing on the miraculous aspects as well.

So if you’re a mom, I have more respect for you, if you’re a mother-in-waiting, I’m praying for you, and if you’re a man, well I hope you’re not drowning in my overflowing sea of emotion and hormones.

Love and kisses,

one very lucky whale

She’s LOST in the hotness of it all.

Is it just me, or is IT FRIGGIN HOT? I MEAN REALLY REALLY HOT? Like you want to strip naked, rub your body down with Popsicles, and invite Jack Frost to lick them off you, hot.

Unfortunately, as I’m finding, I might be the only one who is THAT hot. When I walk in to work, which by the way is INSANELY stuffy and hot, and void of any windows, I have to stop myself from immediately sighing and gasping. Because my first inclination is to say, “WHOOOOWEEEE! Man is it hot in here! You guys are hot right? Geez it’s hot!”

I try to keep these thoughts to myself because these comments are usually met with blank stares, or muffled laughs as people look at my large belly. Silly pregnant lady, work is for regular humans!

Thankfully our swamp cooler at home is more than efficient, but my car air conditioning is lackluster. When you first turn it on the air blows out so warm it burns the eyes.

Anyway. Because it’s so hot I really have no choice but to stay inside as much as I can, with the swamp cooler blasting, and watch LOST on my Netflix on demand. The characters of LOST have started taking over my dreams, and I find myself getting a bit too worried about Claire and all the danger that could befall her and her baby. “DON’T LEAVE HER ALONE WITH THE FRENCH LADY CHARLIE!!!!!”

But I’m just starting season 2 SO DON’T BLOW IT FOR ME. I’m still trying to forgive Nate Barnes for calling me over Christmas break 4 years ago and giving away the end of the first season after I had spent two straight days watching it, and I only had two episodes left before the finale! It’s ok Nate, I’m working through the anger.

Anyway, season 2 starts off with an awesome song. And really, that’s the WHOLE point of this post. I know, took me long enough. But anyway. I think should all be inspired by this. And I also think I should start looking for moo moo as awesome as Mama Cass’.

So get out there, even if it is so hot you want to die, and make your own kind of music, even if nobody else sings along! SING YOUR OWN SPECIAL SONG!

I love you all, stay cool.




Well I hope you had a refreshing holiday! Mine was FANTASTIC. My family was in town and we had tons of patriotic fun. My mom, who is the nicest person in the world, took pity on her fat daughter, and even bought me some new clothes! I’m feeling far less frumpy. Now I’m just becoming terribly uncomfortable…all the time. And I can only imagine it’s going to get worse? Oh brother!

I hope your weekend was a blast too…but I doubt it was a great as mine. Why am I so sure? Because I doubt your weekend involved this matching mother-sister-pregnant daughter attire. If this isn’t patriotism, I don’t know what is:


Apparently I “look pregnant now…” even though I thought I looked pregnant 2 months ago. It seems as though I was mistaken based on the following comments:

1. A coworker said last week when I walked in, “Oh, you look pregnant NOW.” As a way of greeting me. Not, hello, or, you look cute, but, “OH! you look pregnant now.”

Well thanks. Should I take that to mean I just looked questionably chunky BEFORE? Or that I am startling HUGE now? Ha. I’m well aware the comment was meant with NO offense whatsoever, but pregnancy seems to be a topic like bad break ups and death: people have a hard time saying anything right.

2. Another girl at work who I don’t know at all asked me, “No offense…but are you pregnant?”

And I said, “Well I’d be offended if you thought I wasn’t pregnant!” And we both had a good laugh. But I WANTED to follow that up with…THAT IS THE WORSE WAY TO ASK THAT QUESTION EVER! If I wasn’t pregnant I’d be even MORE offended. Haha. There is NO good way to ask someone you don’t know if they are pregnant. She then tried to follow that up with a, “Well you can never be sure, all my friends who get married just gain ALL this weight, and I think they must be pregnant but they aren’t!” This poor, poor girl. Should we make up a pamphlet of things NOT to say for her?

and my favorite

3. On Sunday, my favorite three-year-old, who sees me fairly often, started STARING at my belly when we stood up to sing a hymn. I mean STARING. When I sat down he whispered over the pews in utter shock, “How did your belly GET SO BIG?”

Haha, I told him there was a baby in there and he nodded his head in approval and said, “Oh, ok.” Then turned around.

Who knew being pregnant could be so much fun!? And I had no idea, I mean NO IDEA, how important the size of a bump on my body could become to me! I feel good with this size and wish it would stop growing now. Not my baby girl of course, just the size of me and the bump. But we all know that’s not how this works…

Oh well! Here’s to a great week! And please do share any fantastic pregnancy comments you’ve received…or accidentally given. We won’t judge you, just love you and shake our heads.


Alison and baby

Why 14-year-old-girls everywhere are begging for genealogy lessons

As you may or may not know, I work for BYUtv. As part of my work I help post on a blog that aims to get people amped about genealogy. Yes, I used “amped” and “genealogy” in the same sentence. I just posted on the blog…and I’d LOVE for you to read it.

So to find the answer to the question “Why 14-year-old-girls everywhere are begging for genealogy lessons…”GO HERE.

Or! To watch an exciting series about everyday people and their genealogical journeys…GO HERE.

And if you’d like to tell me how much you love me, comment on HOW FRIGGIN’ HOT IT IS, remark on the dreaminess of Robert or the absurdness of his hair, share some good news, or just get something off your chest…well you can do that RIGHT HERE.

I love you.

And the baby in my tummy loves you too.



She’s a frump.

Lately, one of my main goals…other than becoming a better person, to stop talking so much, start caring about politics (HA), and refrain from speaking about things and people I actually know little about…is to avoid looking like a frump.

Yes, a frump.


It’s a pretty good word. It’s one of those words I got from my mother. When Andrea (who you should know by now is my one and only sister) and I lived at home, my mom would get all dressed and then ask, “Does this make me look frumpy?” And if she did, we knew exactly how to de-frump-ify her.

Frumpy is such a choice word because it describes EXACTLY what you want it to. Hair can be frumpy, and outfit can be frumpy, a person can be a frump. Use it as a noun! Use it adjective! You can be frumpilicious, frumptastic, and frumpdiddlyumptious.

Dowdy doesn’t cut it, sloppy is too harsh, and mom-ish, well that’s just insulting to all those stylish moms out there. But frump? It’s just right. Frump implies a bit of stooped posture, an unflattering fit, and an overall feeling of defeat. Frumpy isn’t just physical, it’s mental too. Which means frumpy is a state of mind. One that you must overcome…and when gaining uncontrollable amounts of weight and growing out of pants every other week…constantly battle to avoid at all times.

I think my impending frumpiness is a combination of a lot of things. I’ve been married for a while, which means I have less exposure to the outside world and more exposure to a husband who wears camo cargo shorts from Wal-Mart. This is probably skewing my reality in ways I can’t comprehend! I also work at BYU, and though I do work with some stylish people, well, it’s still BYU, perhaps it’s seeping into my pores? I don’t have money to go shopping, I need to buy a crib and stuff like that! And I might have just spent a lot of hours devoted to a tacky TV show shot in the early 2000’s, on which all of the characters dress HORRIBLY. Say it with me now, “WILDFIRE!”

Oh, and there’s the fact I look like I’m carrying a pillow under my shirt…and on my hips, and my butt, and let’s not even get started on my boobs.

Yes for those, and many other reasons, the frump is hot on my trail.

And I really don’t have a huge solution to the problem, other than I’m just gonna’ run (or waddle) like hell.

Anyway. My baby is doing acrobats and being adorable. And I guess that’s what matters most. But sometimes it’s hard not to just want to give up and surrender to the power of the frump.

Together we must all stay strong!

Anyway, I hope you all are having a wonderful week. Enjoying lots of soccer, or bad ABC family series, and all the fabulous weather.

Maybe by next post I’ll have a solution…

But until then, may the frump NOT be with you…as it is with me.



Keep it crafty, Keep it sassy.