Count myself a queen of infinite space--were it not that I have bad dreams.

If you are familiar with my personality, you can understand why last night's dream was a doozy.

I dreamed that I had a 30-page final paper on W. Somerset Maugham's Of Human Bondage to finish up by Friday (topic: the archetypal anti-hero). I hadn't even started reading the book. I also had a calculus final to study for (never my strong suit). But the kicker was a final for a course that had slipped my mind. Apparently, at the beginning of the semester I enrolled in a World Civilization course but completely forgot to attend class after the first week.

I woke up in a panic and totally sick to my stomach...

Then I thought, "Oh, I'm so glad I don't have that stress in my life anymore. My only stressful activity today is trying to roll tonight's enchiladas without cracking the corn tortillas."

My thoughts aren't so lucid in the wee hours of the morn.

Reality hit at about 9AM. I have a lot of things to stress about. For instance, in nine weeks or less I am going to be in labor. I am scared. Like so scared, Allan may have to haul me out of the car Shamu-style once we arrive at the hospital. If we make it to the hospital, that is. My doctor is an hour away. What if I have my baby on Highway 65? I don't want to give birth in the middle of an oil field...

Stress isn't good for the baby. Maybe I should pull Of Human Bondage off the bookshelf and tackle that 30-page paper. Just for fun.

Update: As I've thought more about this, I've realized that as I've matured (or so I would like to think) my stress is not so much the result of deadlines but consists of overarching themes. Instead of dreading an upcoming week of finals, for instance, I'm stressed about larger things: parenthood, finances, church callings, etc. Maybe it's all part of seeing the larger picture...or of being a stay-at-home mom.

By the way, 5 of the 18 corn tortillas cracked. It didn't cause much stress, however.

Photographic proof.

For the concerned:

There is still a baby in there. And it's not pint-sized.

Thank you, Mr. Easter Bunny...bawk, bawk!

On the menu:

Cream of asparagus soup (Tried a new recipe--didn't like it nearly as much as my old one)
Pork roast braised with potatoes, onions, and carrots (Julia C.-style)
Orange rolls (Dama's recipe, made slightly healthier--Thank you, Lindsey!)
Strawberries
Pineapple upside-down cake (nom, nom)

And, of course, way too many jelly beans, Cadbury eggs, taffy, and Sees Candy.

I was still so sick from Saturday night (I ate THREE pieces of candy after dinner. Haven't you heard? My baby HATES it when I eat sugar. Or heavy starches.) that I was hardly able to eat a thing.

The babies played:

(Meet the Irish twins: Adilay and Capri)

(Jack and Adilay. Clearly not paying attention to Elder Nelson's talk on searching out our ancestors--See? I was paying attention.)

(Jack hunting eggs)

Jordan captured a lovely shot of me and Lindsey that will forever remain on her passworded blog. Why? Because in classic Gibson tradition, she makes me look in desperate need of a tan. Plus, I'm pregnant and she's not. Yup, I don't keep it very real on this blog.

However, here's a picture of our family.

(Man, I look tired. And I probably shouldn't be lifting up Jack anymore. See how he's caressing Fireball?)

Thank you, Lindsey and Jordan, for making our Easter so much fun. We love our family.

Hello, blogosphere.

Where have I been? Off gestating a baby, thank you very much. I'm full of excuses, but you're not interested in hearing them. So I will refrain.

Six months ago this weekend I got a positive pregnancy test. I wasn't taking the test because I actually thought that I was pregnant, but so that when I called my doctor the next day to tell him nothing happened that month I could answer affirmatively to the always-asked question, "Well, did you take a pregnancy test?" O, ye of little faith....I know. Needless to say, the shock we all received that first Sunday morning in October made General Conference all the more special.

And here we are. Another Conference weekend. I am thirty weeks pregnant. Full of blessed energy that had been missing from October through the beginning of March. And it's Easter.

The Easter Bunny bestowed upon Jack a pretty nifty Lego Star Wars set. All week I had been trying to get it through Jack's head that the Easter Bunny is not Santa Claus, and Easter is not Christmas. I reminded him that last year he received sidewalk chalk in his basket, and that was about as exciting as it would get. This morning when he came into our room, he looked at me with a completely confused expression (nose scrunched, brows furrowed) and said, "The Easter Bunny gave me a Lego Star Wars set." He wasn't acting excited at all, just totally baffled. Now that the set is built, and he has a new Obi-Wan Kenobi for Darth Vader to engage in epic light sabre battles, the excitement is bubbling over. And with Cadbury Eggs for sustenance, we don't think he'll emerge from Tatooine until at least tomorrow.

My cousin, Lindsey, and her family should be arriving momentarily. They just moved from Hawaii to a city that lies a mere hour away from us. This means that Easter can be a family affair this year. Stay tuned for a separate blog post on the glorious feast (but only if I remember to take pictures).