"DaDDYYYYYYY!!!!"

[see title] This is what I wake up to every morning. Courtesy of Luke. It's awesome because I can tell Andrew that Luke is specifically requesting him not me and then I roll over and go back to sleep.

I haven't been great at taking pictures or recording any details about Luke lately. So I'll try to make up for it by telling you a few more things about this little rascal.

A few weeks ago, I made Luke some french toast. It kind of reminded me of this scene from Elf:

The boy likes his syrup. Sometimes he doesn't believe that I've already put syrup on his french toast and needs to add it himself. To make matters worse, the other day, in a moment of desperation, I actually let him put syrup on his pizza so he would eat it. Now before you completely condemn me, it wasn't real pizza ... just my version of pizza with sauce and cheese on wheat bread. But still, that's pretty gross. I'm glad he has not asked for it since.

The other day, Luke and I were in the grocery store and he was sitting in the cart (surprisingly cooperative). I was very distracted but I did notice when he grabbed my finger and stuck it in his nose to try and get a dried booger out. Sorry if that grosses you out. I wasn't sure if I should be pleased that he didn't use his own finger, or a little offended that he thought picking his nose was my job. Luckily I had a tissue on hand.

I probably shouldn't tell you about the naughty things that he does, but this just kills me. I know it is very typical for a 2 year old to despise sharing. Luke is no different. Some days are better than others. However, occasionally he will get his hands on a toy that another kids wants and then he will throw it somewhere they can't get it (usually under a couch, etc). I don't know where that idea came from! It is so mean! I'm hoping that he just thinks that if he hides it, he will be able to play with it later on. That isn't so nice either, but at least it is a little less cruel. 2 year olds really do the craziest things. If you don't believe me, wait until you have one.

Even though Luke can say make the "n" sound perfectly, he still says, "mo" instead of "no". I'm in no rush to correct this mispronunciation because it really is so cute that I can't be too annoyed when he is unwilling to do what I want. The best part is that he never really yells it or says it in an angry tone. Most of the time he just very nonchalantly and in a matter-of-fact-tone says a quick "mo" and moves on to whatever he wants to do. Its like he's really saying, "hmmm, I think I'd rather not, thank you."

On to his sweeter side. Ever since Luke was a newborn I've tried to sing him a song at night before he goes to sleep. He seems to like music a lot. I try to pick a variety of songs but when I'm tired at night, I'll admit that I usually default to the same ones (which includes a lot of primary songs). The other night, Luke actually started to sing with me. I couldn't quite tell what he was doing until I noticed that he always knew the last word in each phrase and would sing it with me. It sort of sounds like this, "bladedahde la de BIRD doodeemamanana SKY". Sometimes I wonder if Luke has any idea what I'm saying to him, especially when I'm trying to teach him about Heavenly Father or prayer or things like that. So I was pretty excited that he at least remembers the songs that I sing to him.

I don't know quite how Luke will react when his brother is born, but I have every reason to think that he will be ecstatic. Luke LOVES babies. He drools over them (not literally) just as any grown woman would. He loves to tickle their feet and make sure they have a binky. I've never seen him get jealous when I'm holding a baby either...I hope that lasts. He is starting to understand what it means to be soft. There is really nothing sweeter than seeing your child love another child for no particular reason at all.

Lastly, Luke really loves to read books. We can sit and read books for hours (as long as they are about cars, trucks, firemen, abc's, etc). Of course, whenever we finish reading a book, we say, "The End". Luke has really grabbed onto the meaning of this and now he uses it all the time. When he is done eating he will say, "The End", or when he wants me to be done changing his diaper, "The End". It is so funny to hear the different contexts in which he applies this phrase.

So in honor of Luke...

"THE END"

Personal Statement

A few months ago, Andrew had to write a personal statement for his residency applications. This was a process that required more blood, sweat and (well, no tears...it would kind of be a silly thing to cry about) ...but it was an arduous task nonetheless. Of course it had to be written during one of his most challenging rotations when time was scarce and brain power rationed.

Have you ever had to write a personal statement or something like it? I liken it to sitting down to a job interview and being asked, "so tell us about yourself". You find yourself pulling together a few identifying markers that don't say a whole lot about who you are but seem to come out comfortably: where you're from, your educational experience, any titles you've held in your life, maybe even a few hobbies. It is always a dreaded question (at least for me) because the answer always seems uninteresting and cliche.

Writing this personal statement was a serious exercise in personal reflection. Andrew doesn't spend a whole lot of time thinking about himself. I, however, have spent a lot of time over the years thinking about what makes this man tick, why I love him, and from what sources he pulls inspiration. So I naturally became a part of the process too - talking things out with him, critiquing not only his grammar (which is probably not my strong point) but also the relevance of the stories he chose to tell and the strength of his overall message, etc. Others were also pulled into the mix to provide needed guidance and criticism. Needless to say, many drafts went straight to the trash. But when it was finished, both Andrew and I knew that at last it actually said something worth saying. It pulled together some of the defining moments of his life (in relation to his chosen career) and reflected who he is honestly and accurately.

Nothing feels better than to arrive at the end of a terribly exhausting and difficult process (such as writing a defining statement about yourself in 1000 words or less) and knowing that it is the best you could have done and reflects some of your deepest values. (I am spending waaay too much time building this up...completely unintentional, I apologize).

As Andrew is now in the interview process, he has received many compliments regarding his personal statement. A few have expressed that it is the best they've read out of hundreds. I'm not trying to be boastful or prideful (because we just had a great talk about that in church last week and my goal is to have no pride). I share it because the process of such a feat is so important/interesting to me and because Andrew's statement points to those in his life that have inspired him so much. If you had to write a personal statement, what would be the defining moments of your life? How would you separate stories/anecdotes that actually changed the direction of your life as opposed to those that are just cool stories to tell? Who are the role models that influence you the most?

Well, here's how Andrew answered those questions:

My father was born to cure cancer. From childhood he yearned for life in a laboratory and he is constantly thinking of new experiments and research protocols to this day. I often watched my father drive late at night on family vacations. I was never worried about him falling asleep because I knew his mind was restlessly thinking about cells, gels, and pipetting wells. My mother often recounts stories of raising the young family in New York City while he was in graduate school. There was no greater set of parents in the city, yet he often had to return to the lab after dinner and work late into the night. My father's passion and drive will never wear off, and he will continue his fight against cancer indefinitely. I know this because my ninety year old grandfather wages a similar battle for the American auto industry, returning to his office every day to implement findings from his recently earned graduate degree. He believes his current work as a consultant with Ford Motor Company will save the U.S. auto industry.

I always knew that I was a 'Stacey,' and I always knew it was more than a surname. During my final year at Brigham Young University I was completing my senior season of Division 1 NCAA football, completing a graduate degree in statistics, and flying around the country applying to medical schools. During that time I was often asked to describe the driving force behind my demanding schedule and ambitions. I never knew how to answer that question; the fantastic example of work ethic and drive given to me by my father has always been the expected norm in my life. I was always taught to look beyond the day-to-day tasks, to recognize moments of success, and to identify new challenges.

As a freshman walk-on linebacker at Brigham Young University, I found myself somewhere below the bottom rung of the team ladder. It is a muddy, near hopeless existence where I frequently watched others climb the ladder above me. It seemed that each time I made a name for myself there was a head coaching change and I had to start back in the mud. I woke up countless mornings at 5 am to attend ‘walk-on’ workouts prior to hours of practice. After three seasons, three head coaches, and more disappointment than I should ever admit, I finally managed to make a name for myself. My father’s lessons of hard work and foresight were solidified in an instant late in October of my senior year. I was playing defense late in a game, and the opposing team needed to score. As I dropped into my defensive coverage I saw the opposing quarterback throw to a man 15 yards behind me. Somehow, I jumped in the air and came down with the ball and an interception, effectively sealing the victory. One of the most vivid memories of my football career will always be sitting on the bench after that interception and gazing at the field as I remembered every 5 am workout, every injury, every drop of sweat, and every disappointment. It was all worth it.

Medical school provided similar experiences. After two years of forcing countless bits of information into my mathematically trained mind, I began to forget why I was here. That changed late one night on the solid tumor service, when a man with a recent laryngeal cancer resection came into the ER with calcium of nearly 16 mg/dL. He was obtunded and our team called the family together to speak about the probability of tumor recurrence. We briefly mentioned hospice, but the family was in no condition to discuss it further. As the team left the room the family asked me to stay behind. I taught them for 2 hours about hypercalcemia, its link to cancer recurrence, and the need to address end-of-life care. By the time I left, the family was calm and ready to do what was best for their father. I left the hospital very late that night, saddened but satisfied. Years of training had prepared me to help a family in a desperate situation. It was all worth it.

I was inspired by many of my clinical rotations, but my excitement for ophthalmology was unrivaled. Shortly after my rotation started, I began to notice that no matter how late I returned home, I looked forward to opening my textbook and reading. I began talking my wife’s ear off each night about some exciting surgery. I quickly noted the optimistic outlook and excited energy of each ophthalmologist. There was an amazing level of satisfaction and enthusiasm in the physicians as well as the patients. I was always happy, and my family noticed. I often envisioned methods of using my statistical background to design and improve clinic trial design within ophthalmology. It was an environment that perfectly suited my interests, ambitions, and temperament. At one point, I even convinced my wife to spend a Saturday night watching old department slideshows about ocular physiology. In short, I was becoming like my father and ophthalmology was my passion.

My father has not cured cancer, and my grandfather has not saved the auto industry. Yet. But I would not bet against them. As an ophthalmology resident I may not cure blindness or become the world’s best eye surgeon. However, I will be enthusiastic about the work and I will be driven; it's in my genes.

10 Years

Today it has been 10 years since our first date (Andrew and I, of course).

How did we celebrate? Andrew came into my room (*see below) at about 6am, frantic, because he had set his alarm wrong and his plane for Wisconsin was leaving in 30 minutes. So we threw Luke in the car and drove way too fast to the airport only to turn around and come back with Andrew still in tow. It's okay, his interview is not until tomorrow and he was able to get on a later flight. Luke thought the whole experience was awesome and kept yelling, "go, Go, GO" from the back seat.

In a way, it was the perfect beginning to such a landmark anniversary. After all, our lives together have involved a lot of: freaking-out-with-the-other-one-being-calm-and-confident; plan b's; biting-of-tongues (especially when one person is driving waay too fast for the other's comfort level); by-standers yelling at us from the sidelines to "go faster!"; consoling words when things don't turn out as expected; and laughter to lighten the other person's mood. (read here for more details).

I thought about taking a picture to commemorate the anniversary, but my motivation to do so was way too low today (promise there will be a tummy shot soon though).

Instead, I will show you a picture of what Luke did yesterday that cracked me up. Luke is nowhere close to being potty trained. I just don't think he's ready. However, I did buy a little toilet seat so he could start getting familiar with the concept. Yesterday, he went in the bathroom and spent a few minutes pointing and naming all the sesame street characters on his toilet seat, then he put it on the toilet and motioned for me to put him on top. This isn't all that unusual. But then, he wanted me to close the door and leave! So I closed the door and I hear him laughing and thinking that this is the coolest game. I realized that Luke probably thinks that Mom and Dad go into the bathroom just to sit and chill for a little while. I'm sure that he probably doesn't understand the logistics of what actually goes on.

What a brilliant idea! I've never thought of hanging out in the bathroom when I need a little "me" time, but if Luke thinks that is the reason I'm in the bathroom then maybe I should give it a whirl!

*Did I mention that my body is absolutely falling apart this pregnancy? I hurt so bad! Andrew has been sleeping in the basement because my tossing and turning and general wakefulness, keeps him awake. The sad thing is, we always sleep better apart. I'm hoping a king bed purchase will solve the problem one day, but Andrew would prefer two separate queen beds. ???? I say absolutely not. Any other solutions?

Vote Today

Just a reminder, because I almost forgot.

If you live in Utah County, we are huge fans of Lane Henderson for Utah County Commission (he was Andrew's mission president in Italy). He is a good man.

I wish I had a chance to get to know all the candidates in Ohio on a personal level. I just spent a great deal of time reading up on the candidates before heading to the polls. It is so hard to find good information out there. I could go off about this little annoyance but I have to hold my tongue because Andrew keeps saying that he wants to run for government office someday.

I think that voting will be my only major accomplishment for today. Everyday I tell myself that I'm going to get so much done during Luke's nap time, and everyday when nap time comes around I can hardly keep my eyes open. Oh well, growing a baby boy is hard work!

Otsukaresama desu