Liddybit's Latest

Elizabeth's days as an only child are numbered. But that doesn't stop us from being completely head-over-heels in love with her. (When we're not exasperated beyond words with her.) Lately, my favorite thing to do is decipher her newly-formed "sentences." These include:

"Show me!" = "Let me show you something." or "Follow me or I will throw a fit."

"Hol dit" = "Hold this for me." or "Let me hold this."

"Have some." = "May I have some?"

"Foun dit" = "I found it!"

and our favorite,

"Luh you" = "Love you."

She's also started saying "my dadda" whenever she wants Adam. And starting about halfway through sacrament meeting, each Sunday, she'll start saying (shouting) "Nursery! Nursery!" She's also inexplicably began asking for "time out" when she's upset. I think she likes the excuse to sit and cry.

So, Elizabeth, enjoy all the attention while you can!

For some reason, when I look at this picture, I see myself.

Month in Review

How the Johnson's keep cool in 90° heat w/ 80% humidity.

So here's the promised update.

Memorial Day weekend, we moved. Thanks to our awesome ward, it only took four hours to get everything moved and the old apartment clean. When I took a car-load of stuff down to the new place, to see it for the second time ever, I found out the key I had for our door didn't work. I should have taken it for a sign.

Tuesday after moving in, I left the apartment with Elizabeth to run some errands. I paused on the landing as soon as the door shut behind me. I had no keys. I had no phone. The best bit was that I had left inside the only working key we had for the one lock I'd already promised Adam I wouldn't lock until we got a duplicate. I was saved from death by starvation and/or a bursting bladder by the mercy of my friend, M, and our landlord's mother who had her grandson, with M's help, shimmy up the fire escape to an open window. I'm still waiting for his mom to call and scream at me for putting her child in danger.

All the excitement (plus a parking ticket and a disastrous trip to the laundromat with Elizabeth) must have been too much for my body b/c on Friday, June 4th, I found out from the doctor that I had tested positive in a fetal fibronectin test (that tests for signs of labor) so I was put on more or less bed rest. I could still go to the bathroom and get myself a sandwich, but was supposed to eliminate "all unnecessary movement." Somebody please tell me what on earth that means? Isn't shopping for groceries necessary? How about going outside for my own sanity's sake? Once again, the ward came through. I let the Relief Society president know on Friday and Sunday, right after church got out, I started getting phone call after phone call of people offering to bring food, watch Elizabeth, and (bless them) do our laundry. I can't tell you how moved I was by the compassion everyone showed us. Even just the simple act of being able to take the sacrament at home, made me feel overwhelmingly grateful to be a member of such a wonderful church. At any rate, with a lot of help, we survived my week of bed rest and, at the next doctor's visit, my test was negative and I was back in business. Whew!

Let's see, so then on Sunday, June 20, I was released as the president of the young women group. It was something I had been expecting (and honestly looking forward to) for quite some time. But when the moment came, I looked at one of the girls' moms who was sitting up on the stand at the organ, and I just burst into tears. I've been in Young Women for over two years now, since before Elizabeth was born. I still got to teach the lesson, but now it's over and it's very bittersweet.

So now it's just been a matter of settling into our new place and me trying to figure out a new routine. Luckily, that has become 100% easier now that my husband's little sister has arrived. For reasons I cannot begin to fathom, she was willing to give up her entire summer vacation to come help me with Elizabeth. Pretty selfless 13-year-old, huh? All I can do to repay her is handle all the poopy diapers myself.

We've got most of the furniture where we want it. Adam's put up curtains and in his ingenious way figured out shelving and storage. He's even put up our gargantuan bookcase and mostly filled it. We still have tons of boxes to go but all the essentials are in their place. So how do I feel now that I'm finally living where I've wanted to live since we moved here? Depends on the day. Some days, I'm grateful to be so close to so many friends. And it's been such a blessing to have a playground just down the street. But on other days, as I'm trying to squeeze my huge belly past a kitchen chair, or lying in bed sweating, (since we STILL haven't gotten our a/c's properly installed—a whole other story—) or sitting on our stoop with no one to talk to, I start to really miss our old place. But rather then dwell on the negative, I'll just show you some pics of the place. I was going to wait until everything was unpacked and tidy, but—let's face it—that's not gonna happen for, oh . . . years?

(Now that I've uploaded these, I really wish I'd tidied up more before taking these. I really wish I tidied up ever. Sigh.)

Living Room

The tiny kitchen, complete with blue and white tile.

Elizabeth's Room

The bathroom, AKA the Blue Room

I don't have a good picture of our bedroom, which is ironic b/c that's the reason we moved: to have our own room. But it's big and nice and even more messy than all of the above so you'll just have to imagine.

Oh My Heck!

We haven't posted in a while. Mostly b/c of moving/temporary bedrest/internet problems. But I will update you on all of that, and post pics of the new diggs after I say my piece about swearing. What is up with it? Am I taking crazy pills? Have I lived in Utah too long?

When did it become okay to use the f-word in print?

What set this all off, or rather, started the slow, steady boil in my brain that has finally erupted, is my subscription to the New Yorker. We got it as a thank-you gift for supporting our local public radio station (which I highly encourage, and they do NOT use the f-bomb.) I felt rather cosmopolitan and erudite and somehow more redeemed as a former English major by receiving such a famous and well-respected magazine. I especially looked forward to reading the fiction pieces. Maybe I know zilch about contemporary short-story writing and its market, but I could have sworn the New Yorker was a good place to start reading. When I got my first issue, my excitement fizzled away into a sad heap of disappointment. I don't remember exactly how I felt when I saw the first four-letter word right there in the middle of my "classy" magazine, but I know how I feel each time now: assaulted, betrayed, and disgusted (with myself and the writer.) And it wasn't just profanity. Week after week, the fiction piece would have, besides a slew of f-bombs, at least one crude reference to sex.

Okay, so I don't read the fiction. The news articles, analysis, and op ed pieces should be safe. WRONG! Exactly how does vulgarity enhance my understanding of the credit crisis? Or a new art instillation? Or the challenges facing eco-minded inventors in the 21st century??? Was there a huge shift in cultural values while I wasn't looking?

Adam is always bringing home from work novels he thinks I'll like. (What a good husband, I know.) I'll start one, get into it just far enough to where I'm hooked, then have to hand him back the book and say, "Sorry. Take it back." And then I feel so angry that I've just filled my mind with filth simply to read—and not finish—a good story. It's gotten to where I'm wary to pick up a book if it wasn't written at least half a century ago.

And don't even get me started on the language people here use in every day life. Adults and children alike can't seem to manage to communicate without the f-word. When Adam tells me what it's like at his work, I'm shocked and outraged. Since when is it professional to swear like a sailor in an office setting, with people you're not "totally friends" with, in meetings and such? I thought that kind of language was seen as "low class" and immature. Are we all turning into teenage boys? Are we condemned to live forever in a football locker room?

So those of you who are out in the working world, living outside Happy Valley, what have been your experiences? And to all my more-literate, more-published friends, am I way behind on the norms for professional writing?

Like I said, am I taking crazy pills? Or am I too enmeshed in my Mormon culture?

P.S. And what's up with the NY-er putting umlauts over the second vowel in words like "coördinate?"

When I was a kid, we had a book called Mitchell is Moving about a dinosaur who decides one day he needs a change of scenery and moves across . . . the swamp? "I am a moving Mitchell!" he says throughout the book. When he gets to where he's going, though, he realizes how much he misses his friend, Margo. Luckily, she decides to move right next door to his new place. I've lost track of how many times I've moved (it was over a dozen times before I started college.) Every time, I hear Mitchell's self-affirming mantra in my mind. "I am a moving Emily!"

But really, moving stinks. Even when you know the move is for the best, you have to let go of a part of your past. I looked up our current address on Google Maps today and used street view to see our building. It's the same picture we've posted here before (though I can't for the life of me find which post) which has our car w/ Utah plates and our neighbors sitting on the stoop. It's still funny to me that they're in the picture, but this time I realized I could name each person in that picture, even the blurred, white-t-shirted boys running by.

For how long have I complained about our neighbors' smoke habits, or our nasty carpeting, or the run-down neighborhood? For how long have I dreamed of living in Bay Ridge, like it's the Happy Valley of Brooklyn? I'm sure the ward members who live down there think I'm such a wannabe. But now that we're getting down to it, it's hard to leave.

That picture on Google maps is from the fall of 2007, not long after we moved in. I remember sitting on our couch in this living room, as Adam told me he'd lost his job at the Moderns. I remember walking quietly into our bedroom and telling Adam when I found out I was pregnant with Elizabeth. It was in this living room I went through hours of labor. Heck, I almost gave birth to her right here. It's staggering to think of all we've been through in the last 2 1/2 years. Now the living room is lined with packed boxes and the walls are completely blank. I won't miss the smoke or the noise or the cracked tile or the sleeping arrangements, but I feel like when we move I'll be missing a piece of myself.

Good thing, I suppose, that there's more of me each day to make up for any losses. Here are some pics to chart my expanding sense of self:

14 weeks


17 weeks


21 weeks

What's really fun is standing next to my friend, Naomi, who is as far along as I am and just looks like a normal woman with a less-than-flat stomach. But I'm not complaining. I know some day not far from now I'll probably look like this poor soul:

But hey! At least she's smiling! (Maybe it's the beer cup she's holding, as Adam so kindly pointed out AFTER I'd uploaded the image. Oh well. Let's pretend it has water in it.)

Ch-Ch-Change . . .

This was a rather momentous week for the Johnson family.

This time last week, we still hadn't found a new apartment, though we had gone to a broker who had shown us a few. Then, on Monday, we got word that the landlord, whom we had met, had liked us and was willing to come down in the price. Adam was sold. I still wasn't convinced. The apartment was on the second floor, for one, and the kitchen was smaller (and uglier) than I'd hoped for. But the building was clean, the landlord lived on the premises, and our broker said we could probably store the stroller on the first floor. So we had just a few days to make our decision. I tried to set something up with another broker to see more apartments—just to satisfy myself that we weren't "settling"—but it never worked out. After a few very stressful days, I got so sick of going back and forth over it with Adam that I finally said I wanted to take it. I think what I actually said was "NYAAAAAAAAAAA!"

So Saturday we signed the lease and on June 1st or thereabouts, we will live here:

Adam and I will finally have a room of our own and we'll live in walking distance of a lot of our friends. (Read: close to the people we'll be asking to help with the triplets :) We didn't relish forking over a month's worth of rent as a broker fee, but, by george, I'm glad the search is over!

Another big blessing came when Adam got the word that his submission had been selected for AIGA'a 50 Books/50 Covers. (For those of us NOT in the design world, AIGA is the foremost professional association for design.) So out of the 800+ submissions, Adam's "Classic Shorts" series was in the top 50.

Adam's work will be featured in their annual, be archived online, and will be on display this fall at an exhibition here in New York. Go Adam!

As if all this weren't enough, Adam got an email Friday from a member of the stake presidency asking to meet with both of us Saturday morning. Knowing that our current bishop is moving soon, and that a new bishop had more than likely already been called, we could only conclude what inevitably happened: Adam is now a second counselor in the bishopric and, what's more, a high priest! (Again, for the uninitiated, most men in the church who reach the level of high priest are usually . . . past the bloom of youth. And don't think of it as a promotion. It's more of a place we send the gray-hairs when they're not young enough anymore to help members move but old enough to be our wise leaders. Just kidding.) The best part is that the new bishop is already our good friend. But I think the combined age of the entire bishopric is still less than the age of your average Utah stake president. Not that this is a big change. Our wonderful former bishop has a young family, too. So I guess that's just how things work here in good ol' Brooklyn. All joking aside, I'm really proud of Adam and his willingness to serve the Lord, despite all the challenges that lie ahead of us. I know he'll do a wonderful job cuz he's just that kind of guy.

Oh, and I'm 20 weeks now (4 1/2 months.) I've gained 35 lbs (right on track, according to my book,) and the triplets are growing well. So all in all, we have a lot to be grateful for, even amongst all this change.

California Adventure

Not long ago, my parents surprised me with the news that they were going to fly Elizabeth and me out to California for one last visit. I had been despairing that, with the coming of the triplets, I'd never see my beloved So Cal again, let alone my new nephew and my parents' new house. And of course, by seeing So Cal again, I meant eating In n Out. So I was thrilled when they told me the news and prayed that I'd be feeling better by then. And I was! Here's a few pictures from our wonderful week.

Elizabeth got to run through the sprinklers for the first time in her life.

I got to visit Dawn, my good friend from high school. She and her family live in Long Beach, one place I'd be happy to live in someday.

The babies checking each other out.

Her son, Wesley, is only a few months younger than Elizabeth. They had a great time fighting over toys and trying to poke each others' eyes out. Things got better when we let them run around the nearby playground.

This video cracks me up. Watch how happy and giggly Wesley is, swinging away, compared to Elizabeth. She looks like she's going to toss her cookies!

Speaking of babies, we got to meet Daniel Ashton, my youngest brother's baby. I can't describe how weird it was to see my baby brother being a daddy.

Unfortunately, it rained most of the time we were there. But we tried to make the most of the sunny days.

At the beach? No way. Too cold! Playing at the playground by Grandma and Grandpa's new house.

On our last day in town, we visited the LA Zoo. We had to get a wheelchair for me so I could last the whole day. At one point, my mom had to leave so my dad pushed me in the chair, while I pushed Elizabeth in the stroller. I'm sure we were quite the sight to see. But it was worth it to see Elizabeth's reactions to all the animals.

Peering intently at the ducks.

So much to see!

Elizabeth said, "wow!" a lot. I think they were looking at these:


Friday night, my mom made a turkey dinner, since last Thanksgiving they had been in the middle of moving. The best part of these pictures is the wallpaper in the background.

Janine, Doug's girlfriend (and Daniel's mommy,) got the night off work to join us.

Daniel chilled while we all pigged out.

Mom and Dad—so mature.

Elizabeth really took to her Aunt Rebecca.

"Sisters, sisters..."

In the end, it was sad to say goodbye but good to get back to Adam. To make it all the better, when I got home, I found that he had totally taken on all the little chores I'd been wishing I could get to lately. He even fixed a leak under our kitchen sink (where he found the following growing in our recycling... Ew! Is it time to move or what?)

Why I Liked Michigan

by Elizabeth Johnson

I got to play outside in grass! And I got to jump on this big round bouncy thing.

Sticking out my bottom teeth.

I got to use my favorite word, "shy," especially with my cousin Taylor. But I wasn't too shy to pet the dog he walks.

We ate a lot of yummy food.


I got to play with my cousins.


Daddy showed me how to throw rocks into a lake.


And we got to visit Great-Grandma Paxman.

But something seemed strangely familiar...

Looks like Adam and Taylor have very limited wardrobes.

Feeding Her Majesty

Elizabeth is generally a good eater. But sometimes it takes a while to figure out what she wants.

One word she has no trouble communicating is her favorite food: CHEESE!



Not long ago, Elizabeth started asking for what sounded like "apple tea." I tried giving her applesauce, and sometimes that would work, but others she was insistent on her "apple-tee." For now, at least, she seems to accept applesauce, though she'll often just eat a little. I'm still convinced that we have yet to discover the true meaning of apple-tee.



She still loves her veggies, especially broccoli and carrots. She now will shout "mang!" when we offer mango. She's also recently discovered raisins. She eats pb&j's without pulling them apart (until the end,) and is learning to use a spoon, with considerable help. She still only drinks a little milk, but I've given up on trying to fatten her up. As long as she keeps eating those vegetables, I can't complain!

It's a Boy! . . .

And a boy! And a girl!

This week, I had yet another appointment with the perinatologist. They did an ultrasound to check for Downs and while she was doing it, the sonographer asked if I wanted to know the gender of the babies. Still too early to be 100% sure, she said, but I didn't mind. (Time to start rounding up hand-me downs!)

As I lay there watching the grainy images of my babies morph and slide in an out of view, and listened to her as she told me each one was healthy, it suddenly hit me: these are my babies. I was overcome with gratitude. They're healthy. They're growing. They have two hands and two feet. What have I been so upset about? This is a miracle! Three babies!

I did start to get a little nervous, however, when one and then another baby were declared to be boys. But the third, the one resting right on top, is a girl. Bless her tiny heart.

So now the clothing gathering begins and also the name game. We've already had a vote for Bashful, Sneezy, and Dopey from my nephew. I'm leaning more towards . . .


What do you think?

12 Weeks

Well here I am at 12 weeks and here's what's going.

I went to the perinatologist for a special ultrasound to find out the "synchronicity" of the triplets. They are fraternal, each in their own placenta. Everything looked good, except that I have some wicked cysts on my ovaries. But the sonographer said that's to be expected and said they'd just monitor them.

Monday, I'd made up my mind to stop letting my pregnancy sickness rule my life. So I made a menu, wrote up a shopping list, and wonder of wonder, did all the grocery shopping! I felt darn good about myself that day, let me tell you. But the next day, Tuesday, I started getting sharp, shooting pains in my abdomen on my right side. When I called the doctor, they said he was out of town and one of the other OBs would have to call me back. I started to panic because I couldn't move around without incredible pain, which meant I couldn't take care of Elizabeth or get myself food, (which is a serious thing these days. No food = vomiting nightmare pain.) I called a few friends but no one answered, and I was about to ask Adam to come home from work, when I heard our neighbor, Tito's, voice outside. I quickly called his cell and asked through tears if he could come over for a few minutes. He and his girlfriend, Valerie, came over and she saved the day. I was so embarrassed to ask her, but she very kindly fixed me something to eat, played with Elizabeth, fed her lunch, and stayed with me until Elizabeth went down for her nap. I don't know what I would have done without her.

I finally had to call the doctor again and this time they told me to just come in. Adam left work early and the three of us headed over. I must have looked a sight as I hobbled into the waiting room, doubled over, in scrubs, a rat's nest of hair and not a bit of makeup. They did an ultrasound first thing and assured us that the babies were fine. Then, after asking a lot of questions, the doctor decided to send me to the hospital to make sure it wasn't appendicitis. Oh, goody! We called around and got a friend to watch Elizabeth, and another to meet us at the hospital to give me a blessing. Thank heavens for the angels of the Bensonhurst Ward! What would we do without them?!

Of course the hospital visit was long and boring and mostly unproductive. Luckily, it wasn't my appendix, but my poor cyst-strapped ovaries causing the pain. The doctor on call, who sounded a lot like Elder Uchtdorf, kept saying, "It's not appendicitis!!" but kept on running tests to make sure. In the end, we all got home not long after 10 PM and luckily didn't have to call in the reserves (ie. my visiting teacher, Satomi) to watch Elizabeth overnight. So all's well that ends well, I suppose. I haven't had pain like that since, except if I get up too fast or twist the wrong way. And then it immediately goes away. So I can't complain. What would we have done if I'd had to have an appendectomy?!?

So that's the latest and the greatest. The pregnancy sickness seemed to fade for a few days but is back with a vengeance. Elizabeth had a fever this week. And so the fun goes on. But I am still trying to do more and start tackling the problems that need solving. I scour Craig's List every day for apartments. I'm dying to know the genders of the babies so I can start collecting second-hand clothing. And I am generally avoiding thinking about parting with Pedro. The happiest note, was finding out this week that my parents are flying me and Elizabeth out to visit next month. I'll get to see my parents' new house, meet my new nephew, catch up with old friends, and eat all the In n Out I can handle. So all I have to say is, I BETTER be feeling well by then!

In non-triplet news, we've been having some amazingly good weather. Yesterday, we went to Prospect Park to just hang out.

Playing Take away the binky with Daddy

Our little monkey

Tickle! Tickle!

Every night when Adam gets home, the first thing Elizabeth does is ask him, "Bum bum bum?" her way of asking for a shoulder ride.

What Keeps Me Up at Night

Where should we live? How will we manage having four small children in Brooklyn? And how long will we last?

What will we do for a car? We'll get a mini-van, I suppose. I am anti SUVs. But how will we afford one? We haven't made car payments in forever. And I love Pedro. If we lived in the suburbs, we could keep him...

How will I ever leave the house without help? You can barely fit a regular stroller into some of the stores here. Don't talk to me about triple strollers.

What will we do if I have to go on bed rest? How will this ever work when we live so far from family?

Can my body handle this? Everything I've read says that I'll have to get a c-section--a huge disappointment since I really, really wanted another natural birth--and that the babies will be born premature and have to be in the NICU for some time. How will I deal with all of this?

What is He thinking?!??!?!?

1 in 6,889*

*The odds of having spontaneous triplets

Off the Air

The Johnson family is currently experiencing technical* difficulties. We will return you to your regularly scheduled posts as soon as possible. Thank you.

*"Technically" it's morning sickness. As a lot of you know already, I'm preggo. Only 8 weeks but in too much pain to hide it from the world. Sitting at the computer is now one of my least favorite things to do, as are eating, housework, and changing dirty diapers. So, basically everything I used to do all day everyday. When I get to Heaven, I'm gonna have a looooong talk with HF about this whole "sorrow in thy conception" thing. WTFrknH?

Stir Crazy

Being indoors so much has made us a little desperate for entertainment. Efforts to fend off cabin fever include:

1. An attempt to style Elizabeth's "hair." Sad, I know.

2. Taking Glamour Shots of Elizabeth to send to a modeling agency. (Cuz you KNOW they're totally going to email me back.)

3. An trip outside to "play" in the snow. (Meaning, watch Elizabeth walk back and forth in the snow. Whoopee!)

Snow pants courtesy of Grandma Giovo Gifts, Inc. Cheesy closed-eye smile by Elizabeth. All Rights Reserved.

4. Ruminating on the meaning of life while contemplating the delicate intricacies of a single snowflake.

5. The most bizarre, though, is this weird bird-walk Elizabeth has started doing. She likes to run like this, with her head tilted back and the biggest, cheesiest smile on her face. Cracks me up. And sometimes, we do it together.




Spring, please come. Before we lose it completely!