Mountain Mama

Starting Again

2012-01-10T10:01:00.001-05:00

I am on a health kick. Or shall I say, a healthier kick. I know, I know, shock! A new year so a new fitness outlook! Actually, for Jeff and me it was the result of several weeks of holiday eating and laziness that eventually made us feel like blah slugs. It was not only the holidays but a trip to Gatlinburg, just he and I, that we really enjoyed, but we also over-indulged the entire time. I mean, we chose where to eat one night by which restaurant would serve fried pickles. I won’t say which one of us requested that. Ahem.

So, once the last party was had and the last meal based on cheesy/buttery appetizers was eaten, we Got Serious. Now, we have Gotten Serious many, many times before but I feel a little different this time. One reason is that we are not trying to suddenly get fit before an event, like when we suddenly took up running before Warrior Dash. I’m not trying to lose weight for a vacation, I don’t have a timeline. I’ve been on the treadmill every day now, for at least 30 minutes. I’ve started a few exercises that I do every other day like pushups, crunches, lunges . . . things that don’t take any equipment and I can do while watching t.v. or listening to music. This little set of exercises takes maybe 10 – 15 minutes. I’ve started off super small, I can barely do anything I’m so out of shape, but I’ve noticed a difference already. I can do more pushups. I can do more lunges. I can go faster and further on the treadmill. I have more energy. I don’t feel like the laziest person on the planet anymore. This all feels fabulous and I do NOT want to pause the momentum.

I don’t know if I’m necessarily eating much better, but I am awful aware of what I’m eating. I have an app on my phone that is a calorie counter sort of thing, and after a few days of logging what I eat it has made me super aware of portions and how much I can allot myself for the rest of the day. This means a bunch of little changes, like less creamer in my coffee (I never realized how many calories I was drinking every morning), eating just a sandwich without any sides, not snacking constantly throughout the day. I know that there are many more changes to be made, but I’m all about going slowly with food changes. I’ve found that going hardcore all of the sudden makes me binge later. I know that I’ve got to start considering how much caffeine I’m drinking but, again, I will address that at a later time. Caffeine is my best friend on the mornings that I have to wake up at 4:00 a.m. to spend the day at the hospital.

One of the hard things for me is realizing that I’ve been down this road before, lost the weight, after two pregnancies, and now it is so much harder on every level. It’s harder to find the time, what with two kids and a full time school schedule and a husband who is out of town for a good portion of the week. It’s harder with the kids being older, and that’s what I have to keep reminding myself; when I lost all the weight before, the kids were eating baby food and such. Now, we have snack foods, foods for lunches, casseroles made with lots of calories. I’m not going to put the kids on a diet just because I’m on one. I realize that children need to eat well and have healthy snacks and all, but I want to have cookies in the house for goodness sake. I’d like Faith to be able to take chips to school for lunch once in awhile instead of veggie crisp sticks. Also, the kids are such picky eaters that if I have to get them to eat a wider variety of food by baking it in a casserole containing butter and cheese and bread, then that is exactly what I’m going to do. My kids are on the skinny side anyway, and the extra calories won’t hurt them, but it does hurt me and I have to learn to not indulge in their foods. Which means making different meals for me a lot of the time, which I don’t like.

Another thing I’ve realized is how much time I spend sitting down since starting back to school. True, when I’m at the hospital I’m on my feet all day, but when I’m home I’m just sitting. Constantly. School requires such an insane amount of reading so I spend hours and hours just reading textbooks, not moving much at all in the process. So the 30 minutes on the treadmill is just adding an activity level that most people probably have in just daily life. I should probably spend even more time on the treadmill, but I need that time for school . . . and kids . . . and making meals, doing laundry, washing dishes, sweeping the floor, sleeping, etc.

So, it continues to be a work in progress, and a slow progression it is. I lost three pounds and somehow mysteriously put them back on despite my daily exercise and calorie restriction. I don’t understand it, but I’m not going to let it deter me. I have a need for instant gratification and I know that it will be a long time before I can actually have the scale reflect my efforts and a while yet before I can button my pants more easily. But, ah, it feels so nice to be working towards it.

School, kids, hair, pants, study

2011-11-19T20:06:00.001-05:00

Time has been traveling at WARP SPEED. I mean, it was summer, and all was well, and I got some sun, and I didn’t lose all the weight I wanted to but I was running, so hey! That was cool. Then school started for Faith, and for me, and Jeff continued his crazy duel lifestyle of two jobs on different sides of the state. At that point I really became obsessed with the fall. Such as continuously fretting about it, and thinking how will I be able to do it? How can I possibly do it all?

Now, it is almost over, this crazy fall semester of woe. Amazingly, I have done it (almost). I just have finals left to consume my worries, and a few miscellaneous papers to turn in. I feel like there should be a giant board hanging somewhere that I should go check off a part of my life. OB/Pediatrics rotation – CHECK!

:::

Doesn’t it make you feel great when someone else complements your kid? That might be one of my favorite things ever. I really love getting complements myself, because I’m like that and I should be ashamed to admit it, but whatever, it’s true. Even better though to get complements on your kids, I find. Anyway, we were at Faith’s school for a Thanksgiving thing and her teacher came over and told us how sweet and smart Faith was, and just how especially sweet of a child she is and how she wants her own daughter to be as sweet as Faith, and so on. I might have visibly puffed with pride, I can’t say. Jeff and I felt like parents of the year after that so we came home and ate hot dogs and chocolate. Parents of the year, indeed.

:::

I have given up summer dirty blonde and instead have gone fall red. Only at first I went subtle reddish brown, but then decided to pump up the brightness so I got one of those semi-permanent hair dyes and . . . it is bright. Like the little mermaid. AND I have to go to this professional thingy with my parents and sister tomorrow, so, I don’t know. I feel a little silly. But dramatic! So yes, there’s that.

:::

I have fallen off the health wagon. I have fallen off and it ran over me. Then it rolled down a hill and crashed into a house and caught on fire. I am fitting into my jeans, but it ain’t pretty. A smart person would just suck it up (or suck it in) and go and just buy a bigger size. Or the size up from that. Rather, I enjoy shimmying into my jeans and then letting them almost cut me in half throughout the day. I do feel like there is a legitimate reason for the weight gain, and I can happily blame that on school. It makes me feel much better when all the women start venting about their weight gain so I don’t feel so alone. Not only is stress a factor, but also the insane amount of hours studying. Just sitting . . . and studying. I have almost worn holes into my couch by sitting and reading textbooks for hours and hours on end. So little to no activity plus stress eating has resulted in me feeling quite awful about myself. It is a goal that I acknowledge and plan to attack with enthusiasm. Soon.

:::

I started a bible study. It has moved mountains and shaken the earth for me. I know, I know, I know. But truly! More to come on this.

Children

2011-11-05T08:09:00.002-04:00

Well. Well well well.

I'm not even sure what the subject was that I last chose to write here about. Something about extreme catching up or the like. Why mess with the process, then?

So James is now four and Faith is six. This all happened very recently. It's been an exciting whirl of birthday banners and cupcakes and two cakes and favorite dinners and presents and presents and so many new toys that is seems like they've magically multiplied and now what on earth will they get for Christmas, also, too many toys in this house. So we are going to weed out the old and/or forgotten and less played with and donate.

James has been . . . hmm, how do I say this like a loving parent? Testing my nerves? Making me yell more than one ought? Driving me out of my head and making any ounce of patience I owned zip right out of my body? Something along those lines. He is still very loving and sweet and offers unlimited amounts of hugs and kisses, loves to "give me love" (cuddling) and can be very sweet and easy-going. However, both of my children seem to possess another, darker, side of their personality. His is maniacal. He quickly crosses over to the out-of-control side and then it is madness to try and get him back. He challenges me a lot more now and I'm getting to a point that I never had to worry about with Faith. What now? is a question I ask myself often. What works? Time-out? Taking things away? Threats uttered between clenched teeth? I'll figure it all out soon.

All of these things aside, he is a very enjoyable little boy. He cracks Jeff and I up with his little own little quirks and manners of speech. He has started adding extra 'r''s to things, such as 'put'. "I'm just going to purt this over there!" and Jeff and I are hoping he doesn't grow out of it too soon. It always makes us smile.

Faith is doing absolutely wonderful in kindergarten and it still amazes me when we drive up to the big elementary school that she actually belongs in this gigantic place. It used to fill me with worry, but oh how quickly things change. Such as the bus. In the beginning Faith wanted to ride the bus and I thought, never! Why on earth ride the bus when we live so close and I'm home often around that time and why let a stranger drive her around with no seat belt AAAGHH NO! But then I discovered the nightmare of the car-rider line. In short, you get to school thirty minutes before school is out, wait forever, eventually turn your car off because you are not moving, then they rush the children to their different cars, and I'm frantically trying to reach behind me and help Faith get her seat belt buckled but feel the need to just drive already and THEN James has surely fallen asleep because why wouldn't he? Then we get home and he is cranky and despairing because of being awoken from him impromptu nap. It was about a week or so of this before I started realizing that the school bus pulled down our road exactly at the same time I did, every day. So I could do the car-rider thing OR just stay at home and Faith would be home at the same time no matter what. Listen, I don't have smarts for nothing is what I'm saying.

She's making friends and learning so much, much more than I remember being in kindergarten curriculum before. She is reading (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) and writing (sometimes it uses some imagination to interpret, but still) and I am constantly amazed by the how quickly it all happens.

Not long ago, we sat down to watch some videos we made of the kids several years ago . . . Faith was only two and James was just starting to crawl, and it just sort of slapped me in the face and made me tear up. They were that little and now they aren't and I'll never have them that little again and it seems like forever ago - like different children that we somehow traded in for these older ones - and then in the same moment it feels like yesterday, I can see James scooting up to the legs of my chair like it still happens just that way and it all floods me with emotion. Not only are those moments gone, but the time I have now will also be quickly gone.

In other words, slow down, time! Also, it made me want another baby. Yes, truly it did, but Jeff says no.

We do have a new cat though, which Jeff for some strange reason thinks replaces a new baby, but we are all happy. Faith named her Lucy but we all call her kittyboots, because that's just how we do. She is a diluted calico color and is a very sweet and loving cat that lets the children tote her around. Faith even came down once with the cat in a dress and a pink and purple pearl necklace on. The cat was just purring away. So, good family cat. Also, she's killing the mice that get into the garage so wooohooo! Good investment.

So all is well (and chaotic) and happy (and maddening) and just as it should be.

Bad Start

2011-08-20T14:58:00.002-04:00

Man.

So, I've started a new semester in nursing school and I've had several orientations that all last several hours long and SAY they are going to go over this and that, but really just spend the whole day talking about how difficult this next year is going to be. At times, I wondered if they were using some sort of reverse psychology to inspire us or something, but it just kept getting more depressing and then there were even moments where they told us to "Get more responsible" and we haven't even had the chance to be IRRESPONSIBLE yet. It was sort of depressing and not nearly as exciting as the blindly happy and optimistic orientations the first year had been.

I'm starting clinicals in Atlanta and I live in north Georgia. That means a whole bunch of driving. Which is distressing for many reasons, but the most for me is the whole getting lost thing. Because I do. Get lost that is. Often. Even with GPS. There is no hope for my cause, I have just learned to live with it and mostly it is never a problem, except when you have to be in Atlanta at 6:30 in the morning and you live about 65 miles away.

Yesterday, I woke up at 4:00, drank some coffee, put on a wee bit of makeup and left with plenty of time for traffic (which doesn't really exist that early, who knew?) and getting lost time. I didn't get (very) lost on the way to the first location and all was good and well. Yay, I thought to myself, my troubles are over. But no. Then they announced that we were to go to another location in Atlanta and it only took 20 minutes to get there and we were to have lunch on the way and had an hour before we were to arrive. We would have to wait on everyone to get there to begin, so if we are the last one to show up then everyone will be waiting and angry and watching that person.

That was all that was needed to get my anxiety into full swing. Not only do I have direction anxiety, but I HATE being the last person to walk into the room and everyone look at me. Ugh. I feel chills now just thinking about it.

So, I thought, alright, all is well. I have the address, I will put it in GPS, I have a whole hour to get there. All will be fine.

I started walking towards the lobby and got confused already. Where did I park? Oh, I will follow the other students. Then I hear them saying that they parked in the visitors parking and I had parked in the staff parking. So I walked back trying to find a friendly face to walk out with and there was no one to be found. To make an entirely too long story shorter, suffice to say that I spent half an hour in a creepy parking deck looking for my car. That is not an exaggeration. I was on the wrong parking deck for 20 minutes before I found the scary looking tunnel that looked like it went to a dungeon that actually led to staff parking. Then I spent another ten minutes walking around frantically clicking the button on my key ring hoping to see my lights flicker.

By the time I found the car, I was literally sweating in my "professional attire" with my white lab coat. I tried to plug the address into GPS only for it to tell me that it didn't exist. I started to feel real tears threaten my eyeballs. Only half an hour! AND I had to catch a shuttle to the hospital from the new parking deck? I started driving around Atlanta getting mixed up before my phone argued with my GPS and offered the suggestion that perhaps the address was actually Decatur instead of Atlanta? So while I tried to plug the new information in I almost ran a red light and got killed. But I didn't. I'm still alive.

I got to the new parking deck and saw a bus start to head off so I ran uphill, in my "professional attire" with my damn white coat flapping in the breeze, in the middle of the damn day, in the Atlanta (Decatur) heat, to catch this bus and the driver opens up the door and I ask if it is shutting to the hospital and NO it is not and then I hear my name called and turn around and there are 25 other students sitting in a cool, glassed in room, watching me make a red-faced sweaty fool of myself.

So everyone ended up looking at me anyway. The end.

Summer Essay

2011-08-03T20:31:00.003-04:00

What I have done on my summer vacation
by Jenny

I started off the summer going full blast, taking care of my lawn, buying flowers and even planting some of them, and then just shoving the dead ones out of the way. I got some sun and am now a "deep ivory" with tons of freckles, so I'm the darkest I've ever been. I am still pale, however, but less zombie colored. Jeff gave me a new chore, which is mowing the grass, and I have killed the lawnmower. I've kept the house clean, though.

I'm glad Jeff doesn't read this, because he may or may not agree with that last statement.

I took a statistics class, which was three and a half hours long in a sad little classroom at the college, which was depressing, but I got an A for my efforts. Then I took an online Spanish class, which was much more difficult than I anticipated. I got an A in there too, but I'm still not quite sure how. My fall semester starts back in less than two weeks, and I am (not) looking forward to it.

I spent some time in Savannah and the local beach, Tybee Island, and it was so much fun. The kids loved the sand and the water and it was the best two weeks of the summer. I woke up at six in the morning, drank a bottle of water, donned my shoes (and other appropriate wear, I assure you) and went running on the beach at sunrise. This is amazing to me still, because it is exactly the type of thing that I often dreamily state that I would like to do one day, but then I most certainly never do. On my first morning there, however, I was up early due to sleeping bad and I thought "why not?" and so I did and it was such an experience that I had to do it again, and again. Then I had that good trembly feeling in my legs and the inner feeling that I had already accomplished something so early in my day. Then it let me eat a lot without feeling too guilty about it.

The kids and I did crafts and strung beads, and now my house is littered with all sorts of bracelets and zipper pulls and keychains . . . and I can't throw them away. We made them! We must keep them!

Faith started swimming! Yes, it is true, which is an amazing feat in itself especially since at the beginning of the summer she had meltdowns of epic proportion, clinging to our necks, screaming in our ears, terrified of the water. One day I was in the pool alone with her and James, and was letting her rest her belly on my hand and held her arms length away from me and told her that I was going to let go, and would she swim to me? And she said yes, and then she did. I then whooped and hollered and smothered her with kisses. I was proud that she swam, of course, but more proud that she just went for it and that she trusted me. The next day she swam around the shallow end without her floaties, the day after that she swam with her face in the water. Another milestone, reached.

James has had no such luck, but he still swings wildly from a sweet boy with the most charming smile to an awful little demon who laughs when I lose my mind. I was debating putting him in daycare this fall to let him be around other people besides his family and warm him up to pre-school next fall, but we just don't have the money. All will be well with James, I predict. I just need to keep working to figure out how to discipline him in the most effective way. He is still the most snuggly thing in the world, and he's often my alarm clock in the mornings. He's an early riser, and he likes to come into my bedroom and scoot in beside me and hold my face so that when I open my eyes I'm looking into his blue, smiling ones. It's so sweet that I can't even be mad when he wakes me from my sons of anarchy seduction dreams.

Speaking of sons of anarchy, I am watching as much television as one can do, since I know that my fall time will be filled with school and children and not much else. Since mad men has come on netflix I haven't been doing much else and the kids say "Again?" when they hear the intro music. I can't help myself, kids!

Jeff has spent all summer working, and now is working 7 days a week, truly. That is sucktastic in so many ways. I keep reminding myself, it is all for something, it won't always be this way. That helps sometimes, other times I just want to shut myself up. We did go on an awesome date in Tybee that was like an epic food/drink crawl, followed up by a walk on the beach and then the pier. Jeff lost his sunglasses, and I kept marveling at how young everyone else is which means that I myself am aging, but I was more amused than sad, so it was an excellent date.

I haven't made it to church that much, which is awful and made more the awful that I think everyone else is thinking it is awful. Our pastor left for another church in another state and I really liked him. He was young, I liked his wife and his little family, he seemed on fire for what he was saying, and I always felt that the sermon that he preached was just what I needed to hear that day. So now, boo, I'm being a baby I guess. And feeling guilty for it.

Other times this summer I would think that I needed to blog and record some of these memories going down here, but I just didn't get to it. Lazy fingers.

What else? Let's see, food, television, lazy, school, kids, books . . . I think that just about covers everything.

For the next week and a half, I'm going to get my mad men on, eat some good comfort food, and relish in the lounging around because when my fall semester starts it's going to be No Joke.

Catchup

2011-05-23T20:01:00.000-04:00

It's . . . wait . . .May? Like, toward the END of May? Huh.

Instead of struggling with the basic logistics of how that happens (such as time, sun revolutions, calendars, and the like) I will just instead declare that I am indeed done with the first year of nursing school. Done! With an A! It's true. I worked hard for it and those around me can tell. I received two text messages from friends inquiring as to what it was that they did exactly to make me mad enough to have nothing to do with them. I have tried explaining that no, my school had taken over my life. My time, for sure, and my thoughts when I wasn't dedicating my tasks at hand to school related projects. I always felt that I had something more to do, and that feeling hung like a dismal cloud over my head all year long. It's still there, it much lesser and slightly brighter form, since I am still taking some lighter summer classes (if one can call statistics lighter) and have some various nursing school tasks to tidy up before fall semester begins. One more year and I will have graduated and hopefully already have a job in place. I hope, I pray, that this next year flies by school-wise, but crawls along when it comes to my family and friends. Odd, that time thing.

Jeff is working diligently to pursue another career entirely, and I am supportive because it would mean a future that involves evenings spent together as a family. His night shift is horrible and I hate how our time together is so limited. Hard work on his part, hard work on mine, and hopefully a brighter future.

Faith has graduated pre-school, as they do apparently, which is cute/strange, but I got some really adorable pictures of her in a cap and gown so I'm behind this nonsense. What I am loving most of all is that the mornings are no longer a rush of waking, breakfast eating, sock-finding madness. We didn't even set the alarm this morning! That right there is one of the qualifiers of a "good-life" to me. Absence of alarms. The drawback to Faith being at home all day is that she and James have so many more opportunities for attempted murder of each other. It will never cease to amaze me how happy they can be one moment, with their original ongoing games, an ever-evolving storyline of stuffed animals with their offspring, to switching over to the dark
side. Their fights are maddening, with few amounts of actual harm done despite their best attempts. I don't want to be the parent that yells, but I am honestly predicting a summer of raised voices. I'm down with the truth.

Oh! And! I did something fun and physical and I did the minimal amount of training (if one can call huffing and puffing on a treadmill for a couple of weeks training) AND I completed it! Warrior dash, it was, which is technically a race, though my group just did it for fun. I ran a 5K with obstacles thrown in, and I have been insanely proud of myself for the past couple of weeks. I mean, me, queen of the lazy, scaled a fifteen foot wall! It's true, I say, and it inspired me a bit. It made me want to actually train and try again but aim for a competitive time. So, yay, summer may mean some sweat and muscle too.

Aaaaand. That's all. Hullo, blogworld.

Chaos

2011-03-10T18:57:00.001-05:00

Well then.

I feel as though I have been going and going and going, and now I am just stopping for a few savory minutes and shall type instead.

School has started again for the spring semester and it has taken over my life, as school often does. This semester is certainly more grueling than the last and all that is well since I’m making good grades again (OH YEAH) but they weren’t kidding, despite their polite laughter, in orientation when they warned us we would have no life. Jeff and I haven’t spent time with our little group of friends/family since New Year’s. This is true, and this is sad. If there isn’t a test to study for then there is a paper to write. It is rare when there is no school related workings needed to be worked, and we have a moment for other things.

Which leads me to the death of my aunt. She passed a couple of weeks ago and though it is sad, it is one of those deaths that is right and almost welcome. She was so miserable at the end, she told my mother that this wasn’t living it was existing, and I can only imagine what she had to go through. Though still, I imagined her when we went down there to her home and it was strange that she wasn’t sitting there and it’s all so strange still. My mother is staying with my uncle to keep his spirits up and manage the many projects they have going on down there. So that takes Jeff and I to Savannah frequently and we are planning on leaving early in the morning to head back down for a variety of work and chores. That is what family is for we tell them. That is what family is for, we have to remind ourselves.

Faith continues to be the perfect child and James constantly tests my patience and when he isn’t making me lose my mind he looks so cuddly and sweet and makes me spoil him truly rotten. He does it, not me.

Now the children are running around the couch that I’m sitting on playing some sort of horse/monkey hybrid. I wish I could harvest some of their energy in pill form.

Okay, now someone is about to get hurt. I can sense it.

Anyway. Kids. School. Savannah. House (ha! It is sometimes clean and sometimes not, but entirely livable). Exercise (cough.) and church/friends/family/hobbies. Bah. Writing that makes me realize I need to prioritize better or balance or something because that just ain’t right.

It's Even Being Called Snowpocalypse

2011-01-12T19:56:00.000-05:00

I meant to write a post about Christmas. I truly did. It would have been about past Christmases, the magic of it all, the glee of opened presents and then a whole section devoted on all of the truly awesome things I received (it was A. LOT.) but that time has come and gone and now it is the middle of January.

I was also going to write an entire post on my New Year’s resolutions, and I still may because I like to fly by the seat of my pants like that, but I’m not going to do that right now.

Instead I shall write about how the south is covered in snow and how we just don’t know what to do with ourselves.

Now that we’re in the mountains, we’re seeing more snow than we used to when we lived a little bit further south around Atlanta, but we still only get a little snow occasionally, enough to stick for a handful of snowballs and the most wee snowman you ever did see, and then it melts fast away. This week, however, we are hit with what I’m assuming will be named The Great Blizzard of 2011 (akin to The Great Blizzard of ‘93, of which I possess fond memories). Schools have been closed all week, people are encouraged to stay home, there is a handful of crews for the entire state, roads like our backwoods country ones haven’t even been touched, and people are going out of their minds.

I, on the other hand, am loving it. I worry that my future self will have that debilitating fear of leaving the house since I have enjoyed being stuck inside of it for so long. Reading facebook, I’ve been amused by how quickly posts went from “Yay, no work and school!” to “Go away snow, I want out of my house!”. Here in our little happy home Jeff has kept an ongoing fire, I suppose to entertain his inner mountain man since our heat has worked just fine. We have eaten an extra meal a day, because why not? The kids lived in their flannel pajamas only changing in order to put on several layers of clothes for outdoor play, which involved crunching through the top layer of ice only to sink down into the deeper powdery stuff, and taking turns shoving each other on a Rubbermaid storage top down the hill in the backyard. I spent a good amount of time trying to see how large of a piece of ice I could break off just for giggles, and then stopped to question at what point I had lost reason. We watched an insane number of movies and played checkers and stood at the windows at night, looking of the reflection of the moon on all of the unbroken ice in the fields. It seemed like each day just stretched on and on, and it was marvelous.

Jeff went back to work tonight, but the kids and I will just be at home again tomorrow, enjoying this nice and needed little break from the outside world.

And now I have just written an entire post on the weather and put it on the internet.

Notice Housecleaning is Not On the List

2010-12-08T19:02:00.003-05:00

Since I have last posted here I have:

Turned 31, which is not spectacular in itself and I really didn’t care much about it except that the week following my birthday turned out to be sucktastic in various ways and I started wondering if 31 was to be a curse to me.

Took care of Faith who has been battling an ongoing cold and a bout of pinkeye, and James who has had the same cold, a painful ear infection (which warranted a weekend trip to the emergency room). Also, James slipped and fell on our tile outside of the bathtub which has resulted in a huge, painful-looking bruise on his forehead. Oh, and my mother-in-law has organized grandkid Christmas pictures this weekend! I’m thinking of makeup over the bruise. . .

Finished my fall semester and my final grade for the course is an A. Normally I’d be all whooping and hollering and feeble attempts at cartwheels, but I just feel satisfied and that, hell, I deserve that A. I worked hard for it and I would be sour and bitter with anything less.

Started trying to enjoy my winter break, but the weather is too cold! (indulgent whine here)

Decorated the house for Christmas, and I love it so much I don’t ever want to take any of the lights down.

Attended Jeff’s holiday party with him. I was so excited for weeks because it was an excuse to dress up, since I live in jeans or scrubs and those things does not make one feel The Pretty. So the day came and I dressed in my short white and black dress with the bell sleeves, and my high black boots and I wore black hose so that I would not show too much skin and Jeff spiffed himself up and my mom loaned me her expensive black coat with the (faux) fur trim collar and off we went and I felt pretty snazzy if I say so myself. Upon entering I saw crowds of people in khakis and some jeans, sweaters and cardigan sets. An occasional dress or two here and there but they were of the older-woman-at-church variety. Well, didn’t I feel like the over dressed harlot.

Become obsessed with Dexter, and the series has taken over my brain and life.

Indulged in cheesecake, crackers with gourmet spreads, onion roll sandwiches, peppermint coffee, and other various foods. I need to get out of this house and start doing something besides eating before I won’t be able to fit through the doors anymore.

Watched Thanksgiving come and quickly go. It was …eh. The kids ate biscuits and gravy and nothing else at my in-laws, and we didn’t even all sit together, and for my side of the family we were over at my sister’s for the food and then quickly over to my mom’s to get her Christmas stuff out of the attic. I mean, I like Thanksgiving and all, but when I was a kid it seems like I remember it being a Big Deal, and now it just seems like another dinner with the family.

Gotten sick. As in right now. Once again I am reminded that the job of “mother” never gets a sick day, and it particularly sucks when your husband works night shift.

Five

2010-11-03T22:36:00.002-04:00

And now I have a five year old. Her hair, which has never been cut, is not unlike Rapunzel’s. Long and golden and reaches her thighs. I meant to give her a haircut on her birthday, I really did, but I paused and in that moment I knew I would not. I will, of course, I’m not a freak, but she didn’t want to really, and neither did I. Just last week I was at a little fall festival at her school and when it was Faith’s turn to stand up and go get her cookie I heard a couple of mother’s gasp at the sight of her hair. It is her trademark, and so she will undoubtedly cut it short and dye it black when she’s a teenager, but for now I get to have my girl, peaches and gold, and long silky hair that curls at the ends.

Her freckles really came out this year in the sun and she has been developing her sense of humor. I worried for a moment that I was complimenting her too much because she started becoming matter-of-fact about how nice time spent with her must be, but I can’t help but to show love. With words, with hugs and kisses, she surely does not doubt how much I adore her. And while she is a cute child (as if I would say my own is not) she has a beautiful soul and a tender heart. I have tried to instill in her that it is much more important to be beautiful on the inside rather than the out, and so I have a sweet child and that is a blessing that I cannot describe.

She is intelligent, always has been and I’m sure always will be. She is imaginative and enjoys playing with someone or by herself, always creating story lines for her dolls and barbies. She has become much more interested in pregnancy and babies, often working a child on the way into one of the plots of her toys, and has told me that what she wants to do when she grows up is to have babies. And live with me. And I can help her take care of them, won’t that be fun?

She enjoys singing with her kid’s songs on cd, especially a church music for kids one that my mother-in-law had originally bought. She enjoys movies, and some shows, but more than anything likes other kids. She’s made friends with our neighbor’s kids and still struggles to find her “best” friend at school. She wants to help me all the time, and I try to let her as much as possible to see the satisfied look on her face. She says her prayers every night and enjoys reading with me. She is blunt and to the point when telling me something that I need to know and won’t hesitate to put her hands on her hips or shake a finger at me if I’m not doing as she thinks I should.

She is a true joy to be around. She is special, that one. I still thank God every day for her, my sweetheart, my very own strawberry blond, freckled little girl.

Three

2010-10-21T09:13:00.002-04:00

My James is three years old today. While I know that I am supposed to say that I can’t believe it, and it is true that time has flown, it seems like there was no me or us before James. He is a powerhouse of personality, a key figure in our whole family and universe, it is hard to believe that he is ONLY three.

He’s always been such a boy, to the point of making me paranoid and ever-watchful, but he has gone from being rambunctious and rowdy to outright defiant and violent at times. Faith gets the brunt of this, mostly because she taunts him into action, and action is exactly what he provides. A swift kick, or a toy thrown at an impressive speed. My poor girl sported bruises on her school picture day because of Jamie’s inability to just calm on down.

On the flip side, the boy has charm. My father once said that he’s going to smile his way out of trouble all of his life and truer words have never been spoken. He already does it. James is in possession of one of the sweetest smiles I have ever witnessed in my life, the kind that lights up his whole face, the kind that lights up the whole room. I have gone to him, fuming and angry over something awful and deliberate that he has done and he has looked up at me, eyes twinkling and crinkling, and I have been disarmed by his smile, having to catch myself from smiling back. I will have to find a way around that smile, it will be my kryptonite.

Ever since he was old enough to have a preference over anything, he has loved trains. Perhaps a better word would be obsessed with trains. Of course Thomas the Train became a favorite and still is. There are trains and tracks littering my whole house. The trains were essential in potty training. The trains are his best friends. The trains go everywhere with us. In the past few months he has started broadening his horizons, enjoying cars and loving the movie Wall-E, but trains are still the elite of his likings.

I’m so relieved at his appetite that includes a willingness to try anything. His easygoing attitude about going here or there, no need for any sort of routine. His need to cuddle and be loved, hugged, and kissed all throughout the day. He is an affectionate boy, not stingy with touch, willing to give it to anyone who seems to be in need. He will climb onto my lap, look deep into my eyes, and just kiss my nose, my cheeks. I laugh and kiss his neck, savoring these moments, afraid that they will be gone too soon.

He is my heart, my three year old boy.

He taught me Nawlins and Spanglish too

2010-10-19T20:50:00.001-04:00

This is such, SUCH, a bummer but I think I need to get this out.

I just found out that an old co-worker died. He died several months ago, but I found out about it by boredom, snooping around on the internet. I found his facebook page and instead of just his name, it was followed by “memorial page” and then after frantic googling I found his obituary, stating his death as being in March.

I’m just shocked right now. This man was not just a co-worker, but a friend of mine. I started working at a small construction company when I was barely twenty-one and he was about forty-five at the time, a small man with an ever-reddish nose and a permanent grin on his face. He was hilarious, and had one of those laughs that was just contagious, whenever you heard it you wanted to laugh too, even if you weren’t in on the joke. He was a nickname type of guy, he had one for everybody. Mine was “Woodstock” because he had an image of me, long-haired hippie chick, peaceful and free-spirited. Our entire office started calling each other by their nicknames and we even had an official nickname board which needed to be updated every so often.

Whenever I was distressed at work, he was always there with grounded guidance and he was one of my favorite things about that job. I loved seeing him come down the hallway and always couldn’t wait to hear what he had to say. He made my two years at that company immeasurably better.

He had a great love for music and we had many a long conversation about it. When I told him that Jeff played he was overjoyed and often sent home music or videos with me for Jeff to watch. He’d ask me every so often about Jeff, wondering if he was “still pickin’ and grinning”. He was from Louisiana, which oozed out of his voice and was a great sense of pride for him. I learned all about Mardi Gras from him, proper Mardi Gras, not just the partying (although he told me about that too).

I left that job one summer, after management shifted and things got to be unbearable for me. He pursued other avenues as well, for the same reasons. He kept in touch afterward and when I got married I made sure to send him an invitation. His R.S.V.P. card was the fastest one returned and at my reception he was waiting for me with a big hug and an even bigger grin. The last time I talked to him he said that I needed to go ahead and become a mama, and then time sped by on warp speed and I never talked to him again and it breaks my heart I wasn’t at his funeral.

He was a good man, with a wife that he loved very much and three children that are way too young to have lost a father.

I’m remembering good times Andy, and I hope to see you again someday.

Melancholy

2010-10-13T21:14:00.002-04:00

Jeff and I took the kids camping this past weekend and it was The Awesome. We went to Stone Mountain which isn’t deep in the woods or anything that proper camping should be, but it’s so much fun for the kids. They went to the pumpkin festival, we watched a 4-D mini movie that I think may have traumatized James, we went on the sky lift that I know traumatized me (I had a “bad imagine” as Faith would say, about us all plummeting to our deaths. *shudder*), and we went on the train, we walked around the top of the mountain, we went to the old plantation houses and petted the farm animals. At night we roasted marshmallows and made smores.

It was the weekend that we’ve been looking forward to having with them for, I don’t know, forever. Just Jeff and I, and our children, all in one place, doing wholesome family type things. It was rather dreamy, actually, and not in a Stepford way because they were still screamy, terrifying children at times, but just . . . good. It felt good.

Then we came home and back to the grind. I washed my hair three times and it still smells like campfire smoke. The clothes are still in heaps in the laundry room, and I’m already behind in my nutrition class for the week. This is all okay, though. This is life, this is what happens, I don’t live in movie land where things behind the scenes get magically taken care of except for comic relief purposes. What really does get to me, however, is that real life settles back when Jeff starts his work week.

Having a husband that works nights SUCKS. There is no poetic way to put it, it just sucks. He’s on a different schedule than we are, he’s always tired. I feel guilty for waking him up at 11:00 a.m. because I know he’s exhausted and I feel like crap for the mornings he has to wake up at 7:30 for me to get to school. We both feel awful when we’ve squandered away the moments that we do get to share by bickering about some non-significant Thing. I get irritated sometimes, thinking that he could bathe the kids on his nights at home, or make their dinner, or play with them, or settle some argument since I do it by myself all the time. I immediately get angry at myself for the irritation thinking that while I’m home with the kids, he’s at work, in a shop, on his feet, at night, lonely, deciphering intricate blue prints, all to support us.

It’s not just hard on our marriage, it’s hard on our kids. Faith goes four and a half days without seeing her father. EVERY WEEK. I try to fill him in on the little things, but sometimes they get lost in translation. I feel so blessed, for all the things I have, and then I feel a little wistful, I suppose, wanting someone to share them with daily. I want us to be a family, to be whole, every night together.

Here’s wishing to a brighter future.

Random - Just to hear the keys go click

2010-09-20T21:54:00.001-04:00

I spent the entire weekend studying for my first exam, which was today. It covered several huge chapters out of our main text, a couple dozen chapters out of our secondary text, three chapters of medical math, and four chapters of medical terminology. I must be learning something after all because after it was over I thought to myself “well, that wasn’t too bad”. Then I came home, changed into completely unflattering gauchos and a huge t-shirt, made myself an enormous burrito, and have tuned into mindless television shows and looked at silly things on the internet because MY BRAIN WANTS A BREAK.

:::

Jeff and I were planning our upcoming weekends and we have something planned for every weekend until the end of time. On one hand, yay, stuff to do! On the other, boo, whatever happened to lazy weekends where we stay in our pajamas and watch old 80’s movies? I don’t even know the last time we’ve done that. With Jeff working nights, weekends are the only time we have together as a whole family. It’s also the only time we can spend with his folks, or mine, or any of our friends. It’s the times when we do grocery shopping, or house projects. I hate that he has to work nights. It ruins everything. And makes me cranky. This post will start getting out of hand, so I should probably change the subject.

:::

Faith’s teacher brought her out to the car last week (which is new to me, this whole escort to and from the car thing. Just what are they trying to keep the parents from seeing inside?) and told me that Faith had had a good day, but was a little disappointed when no one else wanted to play pretend with her. She was stuffing animals and/or dolls up her shirt and pretending to be pregnant. I laughed and shook my head and tried to appear like a normal parent and informed the teacher that it’s been a big thing with her lately, playing “pregnant”. The teacher eyed me, probably trying to figure out if I were pregnant which would make more sense and so I made sure to tell her I didn’t know where it was coming from, and we went home. Where Faith continued to play pregnant, made her barbies be pregnant, and drew pictures of babies in bellies. So I decided to really blow her mind and showed her the video of her being born and she was FASCINATED. I asked her if she wanted me to have another baby and she said no, that she’ll just have one some day when she grows up a little bit and I could help her take care of it. I’m so proud of her. She wants to have a child, doesn’t care if she’s married, and she’ll make me take care of it. I must be doing something right in my child rearing duties!

Blessed

2010-09-15T21:07:00.000-04:00

Not long ago Jeff and I were looking through old pictures on the computer, click click click and we were transported back two years and three. There we sat, mouths hanging open as we viewed our children back then. James, bald, wide gummy smile. Faith, short curls, baby-face. The videos are more extreme, tiny voices that are now loud. Of course, in a few short years I’ll think that these are the tiny voices (hard to imagine) and that time has again back-handed me and left me stunned.

Chubby cheeks are starting to narrow, and short legs are lengthening. Diapers are non-existent and temperaments are well in place. I can hardly lift Faith without a verbal exclamation and James is much more boy than baby. I watched the videos and looked at the pictures wanting so badly for another baby, another tiny thing to feed and hold and be a BABY, but I know that another would quickly grow out of “baby” and into “kid” in lightning time.

I’m trying to make it last. I’m trying to keep our old habits. I swaddle them in towels and hold them in front of the mirror after the bath, something I started with Faith when she was just a wee thing. I sing the morning songs, the patience songs. I cuddle and carry and use our own language whenever possible, transforming hand to “hammy” and flip-flops to “clip-clops” and they are moving on when I refuse to.

It is obvious that each stage is a new wonder, a new sense that I must hang on to this, this right now, and wish forever for the memories to stay clear and never leave my ever-evolving mind. They are wondrous and aren’t I the lucky one to get to experience this? How silly it feels sometimes to complain about this small thing or that inconvenience when I have the privilege to watch them be.

An Experience

2010-09-08T16:13:00.000-04:00

I’m not quite sure what I was expecting. Something sad, I suppose. Old people, feeble-bodied and weak-minded, sitting listlessly around a bleak room, lonely and depressed. I figured they would all be sickly and incoherent. I’m not sure why I thought this way, but I suppose I had heard so many stories about the sadness of nursing homes from my in-laws that I expected the senior center I visited today to be the same.

It is part of the nursing program I’m in, a community service type of assignment. We spent some time with seniors today and we’ll go spend some time in an elementary school in a couple weeks. While I was looking forward to the elementary school (a little) I was sort of dreading today. So imagine my surprise, just ten minutes into my visit, when I thought to myself “this is awesome”.

The people I met were upbeat and energetic people. The woman I spent most of the day with, Wilma, was easily one of the most effervescent, witty, quick, charming people I’ve ever met. Her hands moved quickly with her crochet needle, her eyes easily picked up the mistake I made when she was trying to teach me, she had comebacks for every taunt thrown her way in record time. She is 86 years old. Her and another lady, who is 90 and proclaims that she is healthy as a horse, made easy jokes towards one of the only men at the center. They are both widowed but they don’t want “an old man”. Wilma was married for 57 years and her husband passed six years ago. She told me that they were very close and had he been alive she wouldn’t have been out at the center, but that it’s helped her a lot. It keeps her from looking at four walls all the time.

Wilma enjoyed me being her pet today and I didn’t want to leave her side even though the room was full of older people, all in their own groups, all full of hearty laughter. I laughed so much today that I felt my cheeks starting to hurt. Wilma reminded me of my grandmother, my father’s mother, who was quick like her, feisty, and would give those big, toothy, loud laughs when something amused her. I tried my hand at crocheting on a loom, and admired all of their handiwork, beautiful hats, scarves, blankets, afghans, quilts. All made with ancient hands and carefully stored away to be sold at a craft fair to raise money for the senior center. I told myself that I would be there and purchase Wilma’s Christmas quilt.

Every time my eyes met someone else’s I gave them a genuine smile and received one in return. Here were folks who had spent most of their lives, if not all, in North Georgia and spent their days at the same center with the same people and I could just feel a current shift by my presence. They were happy to see me. They wanted to tell me their stories, and hear mine. They were pleased to hear I was in nursing school and that I was a Christian. They were not stingy with common affection, touching my arm, patting my shoulder. They talked about the children at the local school where they sometimes go to read books with the first graders. They are proud of those children, praising their intelligence, as if they were their own. They would like Faith, I think, with her quiet manner and polite ways. They would like James, with his charming smile and his crinkly eyes.

It was time for me to go, it came by too quickly. I went to get my purse and had the director sign my paper saying that I had indeed spent time there, and as I walked back to Miss Wilma to say goodbye, I saw dismay in her eyes.

“Are you leaving, honey?” she asked.

“I am,” I replied with some sadness. “But I’d like to come back and see you again. May I?”

And she smiled and pulled me into a hug and kissed my cheek, said that of course I could, and then told me goodbye and that she loved me.

Riding Down the River

2010-08-31T09:25:00.000-04:00

Somehow, it is the last day of August. My summer, which was filled with endless good intentions, has ended. Faith is in school, I am in school, we are all newly adjusted to our fall schedule and all is well, but man, I kind of wish summer had lasted just a LITTLE bit longer. It just seems like we didn’t get to play enough.

It is wonderful, however, to be able to open the windows for the first time in months without feeling like we’re suffocating from the heat and humidity.

In one last summer hurrah, Jeff and I and some friends went down the river. In what might be the most redneck mode of free entertainment, we basically just sit on inner tubes and ride them down the Chattahoochee. What would be a ten minute drive on back roads that parallel the river is a five hour ride on tubes. We take coolers full of drinks and food, and shove them into their own tubes, which we tie onto ours and we just sit back and let the river take us down a little farther south. We always bump into rocks, cover ourselves with bruises, and occasionally flip over when we try to navigate little rapids. We have sometimes lost the contents of our coolers and almost always lose our sunglasses. When the river is down we have to scoot along the more shallow areas and when the river is up we fly along in a more fun and terrifying ride. We always try to cover ourselves with sunscreen but most of the time we end up getting burned anyway. We always straggle out of the river at the bridge where we end our ride, dragging our tubes behind us, soaking wet, red, sore, and dehydrated, usually missing some article of clothing that we went in with.

It is one of the most fun things we do all year.

We always get into the Chattahoochee up near where we live in Northeast Georgia, where the river is clean, long before where it gets near Atlanta and is . . . not so clean anymore. Once on the river we occasionally see kayakers going by, but most of the time we are all alone in our little group. We’ll see houses sometimes, high on the banks, cabins isolated from the rest of the world. It is quiet and peaceful and tranquil. It feels like it is some part of nature untouched from the rest of the world and it’s our luck to be able to enjoy it. It’s several hours of the kind of fun you have when you’re a kid, just a thrill to be moving fast with the sun on your face, laughing until your sides hurt. It just makes me feel alive.

Now, it’s nearly fall, and the river will quickly get cold. And another year until the next river ride.

Too Much Booty In the Pants

2010-08-26T15:40:00.000-04:00

Not too long after I had Faith, when I was still in that awkward time of being too small for my maternity clothes but too big for my pre-pregnancy clothes, I decided to start taking very small, very comfortable baby steps. Those tiny steps led the way to bigger leaps and one day, nine months post-partum, I was the most fit I had ever been in my life. I allowed photos to be taken of me in my swimsuit on vacation and didn’t want to burn them when I saw them later. I enjoyed shopping for clothes. I enjoyed having a level of energy that I didn’t have before.

Then there was James. I thought I would re-create the post-partum magic, and it was going well for awhile and then all of the sudden, it halted. There was a few pounds that I just couldn’t shake. Actually, no, it’s that I wouldn’t shake them. I just lost the drive. I lost the motivation. I started eating late at night, after the kids went to sleep because I enjoy eating and I enjoyed being able to do it without some sort of interruption. I started buying more junk. I stopped exercising. Anyone who does this knows that it’s very fast to start moving downhill. In no time I went from being about 6 pounds from my goal weight to 20.

Now the summer is almost over and the fact that I wasted much of it bemoaning my own lazy self has kicked me back into gear again. If that hadn’t of, then my nutrition class surely would have. One of our projects for the fall is a self health assessment, which I’m about halfway through with now. It’s an eye-opener, for sure. Even some of the time when I thought I was making healthier choices, I really wasn’t.

So here we go, baby steps again! Hello, treadmill. Hello, cauliflower. Goodbye, chips and queso (until the weekend that is).

School Days

2010-08-22T18:11:00.001-04:00

I am now already knee deep in my fall semester at school although it only started last week. Yet, I’ve already had nearly ten chapters to read, in several different books, and an essay to write.

Nursing school, I am predicting, is going to kick my ass.

I should have known from the start. We had an orientation that was like no other orientation that I’ve ever been a part of. It was an event that lasted all day long, with various faculty and former students taking turns and talking about the program, its difficulties, and how even though we would most certainly lose hope at times if we stuck with it then one day we would graduate. It wasn’t the most, ah, motivational thing I’ve ever heard. In fact, it was terrifying.

We ended up pairing up afterward, each first year student with a second year student (those who passed anyway), and my partner had some words of advice for me. I actually was making good notes, and got some surprisingly good study tips, and then the ax fell. I was told that after they spent four to five hours a day studying that their final grade was only a B.

!!!!!!!!!!!

I am a 4.0 student. I have made the effort to be a 4.0 student. I love having my GPA at what it is, I relish in being the dork who makes only A’s, I can’t help it, this is what I’ve become. And honestly, I need it. The state of Georgia has an excellent financial aid program that funds tuition for those who make the grades for it, and by crackity, I’m going to get my financial aid!

All the stress aside though, I must say I enjoyed looking through the syllabus. Whereas my other lab modules consisted of things like dissecting brains, kidneys, fetal pigs and the like, and occasionally examining the molecular structure of the basic cell, our first lab module included things like “making an occupied bed”, “giving baths”, “lifting a person”. Begin at the basics we did, and I actually had fun in lab.

I’m excited about this semester, and I’m not even going to pretend like I’m not. It is, however, going to be a lot of work. Here’s hoping I can get through it.

Summertime

2010-07-26T22:50:00.007-04:00

This summer my family has enjoyed the best of both worlds. We live in a comfortable and pleasant house in the mountains, in which the only pointed decision we made about where to place the furniture was where we could see the most mountains out of each window. Sprinkled throughout the summer were trips to the beach at Tybee Island, a surprisingly easy five hour trip from our door to the white screened creaky door at the sea blue beach house. Evenings spent here at home could be lounging on the swing in the back, watching the sun cast off peaches and lavenders over the creeping gray on the mountain tops. Evenings spent at the beach could be leaving our warm seats on the front porch under the lazy ceiling fan and walking over the boardwalk to the sand, to the surf, and watching the sun cast off golden pinks and dreamy blues, watching the moon rise over the ocean, seeing the lighthouse turn its light on for distant ships.

There have been countless sweet moments where I feel blessed. Truly blessed. Not luck. Not chance. BLESSED.

Seeing my happy, healthy children experience pure joy in life is the most I could ever ask for. Hallelujah.

Big Country

2010-07-19T19:04:00.000-04:00

Before Jeff and I had children, we had talks about how we would raise them. Birthdays would be a big deal, we’d spoil them at Christmas but not too much, and we’d raise them in the country. We would give them a childhood much more like Jeff’s than mine.

Jeff and his sisters and cousins rode four-wheelers all over the place long before they could drive. They could ride their bikes down to the old country fill station without ever encountering a car. Hours spent outdoors far outnumbered hours spent in. I, on the other hand, lived in a condo in Decatur, Georgia. There was no yard, just a public grassy area that several condos surrounded. There were shootings down the road and only one neighbor we were friendly with and me being outside unsupervised just was not going to happen.

We could have chosen a happy medium and settled our family down into suburbia, where we lived before we moved up to the mountains, but staying a weekend up here and then going back down there . . . things quickly became clear for us. We couldn’t stand wasting our time in traffic, or paying too much money for a house that only looked out onto other houses. Driving through the towns meant seeing strip mall after strip mall, interspersed with chain grocery stores and industrial parks and buildings. When we first moved up here I constantly was amazed by the views that followed me everywhere I went, on daily errands, or gazing out of the kitchen window. Every night we are treated to sunsets that never cease to move me with their beauty, things I never seemed to see and appreciate before.

I’ve never once regretted giving up things and places to get those things in order to live out here in the mountains. We once said we’d much rather have a small house and acres of land rather than a huge house on a tiny lot. Now, we have a perfect sized home and we still get to experience North Georgia at its finest. Being a part of these tiny towns, with produce stands populating the sides of windy mountain roads, historic homes and buildings still being used for their original purpose, fields of farms housing old and aging red barns, it always feels like a blessing.

Just to be here.

Overcast

2010-07-02T12:31:00.000-04:00

My aunt is dying.

She is my mother’s brother’s wife and she has been dying for some time, I suppose. She was diagnosed with COPD some time back and has just been slowly sliding downhill ever since. Every once in awhile there has been a dramatic dip and a scary shift and every time we would wonder, is this it? Is it time? She would pull through, however, and go on in what is now her new normal. Her new normal is so sadly different from her old normal and I don’t she can reconcile the two and I don’t think she’s happy. We’re at that weird stage where we start to wonder what we’re even hoping for anymore.

It was like this with my grandmother, my mother’s mother, the first Faith. She was diagnosed with cancer, given six months to live and ended up making it for ten. Towards the end she viewed everything as a chore; eating, walking, sitting, talking. She told me that “this is not living” and, oh how I loved her and it made me happy to just breathe the same air as her, but I knew she should go and I knew that was what had to happen. It broke my heart, it eased my heart. It’s impossible to describe the overwhelming sadness but the slight relief it gave me when she passed.

I’ve been thinking of my grandmother a lot recently. This whole thing with my aunt is bringing up these old feelings and it is summertime, which makes me think of being with my grandmother in Savannah. It was always happy times with her. I was never bored; I never had to be constantly entertained with expensive toys or activities. Just me and my grandmother in her tiny house, going on walks, or running errands, playing checkers, reading books, doing crosswords, and talking. Always talking, all day long. Those were some of the easiest and happiest times growing up.

This never fails to hit me like a ton of bricks, this passing of time. It seems like there was never this life before Faith and James, yet there was. I was the child, my aunt was young and vibrant, my grandmother was healthy and alive and my friend, now time marches on and people start to drift out of life.
Yet the memories are there. I can only hope to pass some of those on to my children either by voice or by action. I can channel my Granny, laughing hard and deep and raspy, getting on the kids level, appreciating them, and appreciating little parts of life.

Smartening

2010-06-03T19:54:00.000-04:00

The past couple of months have been surprisingly hectic. I thought that by no longer working and only having school that I would have so much more time, but . . . eh, not so much!

When I haven’t been delving into human anatomy and physiology, which is making my brain overheat and steam up a little with all the thoughts and memorization and conceptualizing of complicating miniscule processes, Jeff and I have been spending every free moment doing SOMETHING. We’ve been to Tybee Island a few times; we’ve spent weekends with friends and some with family. We’ve cleaned the garage and built a fence (I use “we” very loosely on these last couple of things) and I’ve studied and studied and so on and so forth. Occasionally I’ve absorbed some sun and spent some quality time with my new treadmill and there has been the junk food of the television world that I like to watch mindlessly while I check out of the real world for short periods of time.

Suddenly, it’s June. Gone is May, one of my favorite times of the year, and I have to try hard to remember parts of it though it is near enough behind me to still glimpse it in my rearview mirror. I want time to slow down a little bit. These are the last months before Faith is in pre-school, seriously this time around since last year was more of a trial run. I wanted this summer to go on and on since winter stole too much from us and I looked forward to sun-induced freckled skin and sweaty lower backs and seeing my children’s tiny legs skip in the grass while the sprinkler sprayed them. I wanted to laze in the yard on a lounge chair while the kids played “jenny and jeff” in their little house in the backyard. I wanted to read more books and listen to more music and write some of the trailing stories that have been knocking around my brain for the past few months.

Instead, I am learning about the human body and the understandably and amazingly interesting minute cellular processes of every small and large thing that we humans do. It boggles the mind and it takes up a lot of time. And while the sun is shining, I’m sitting in a classroom that has a breath-taking view of the north Georgia mountains, trying not to look outside for fear of my mind being captured and swept away into the blue yonder.

No, I Don't Have Any Shame

2010-04-20T19:15:00.003-04:00

My mom was talking to me on the phone yesterday and she asked what it was like to start this week by not going into work. I told her it felt wonderful but at the same time it was like I was forgetting to do something. It's an odd feeling, to not have to BE anywhere. One of my classes is finished for the semester and the other one is online so I don't have to be back in a classroom until the second week in May and until then . . . ho hum, diddle dee. I suppose I'll sweep the floors and play with the kids and read some history and RELISH EVERY SECOND OF NOT HAVING TO WORK!

The major drawback is, of course, not getting paid anything anymore. So there's that added guilt of wanting to get a pedicure this week and then wanting to show off those freshly polished toes in a new pair of taupe heeled sandals, which I've been eyeing online. I'm sadly up a few pounds and after dropping those in (hopefully) a couple weeks or so, I'd like to get a new pair of jeans. Or shorts. Or AND shorts. Unfortunately, I'm not actually contributing to the family bank account anymore so either I take some of the tax return and treat myself and play dumb (and sneaky) or . . . I owe Jeff some "favors". And no, I'm not above that.

Unemployed

2010-04-18T19:12:00.002-04:00

I quit my job. I walked into Dysfunction Junction one sunny day and gave my notice, telling them that I was making school my focus and I just wouldn't have the time to devote to work anymore. They were sad to see me go, but not angry, and offered me a place to come back to if I ever wanted to. Now it is Sunday evening and I don't have that grudgy feeling in the pit of my stomach. You know what I'm talking about.

I prayed for it. For the moment. For when Jeff would say, "Yeah, Jenny, we can swing this". For not spending my hours in a place that I didn't want to be. Now, for the first time my hours at school will be spent on a specific matter that I've invested myself in. I'm working towards a career and not a job. I'm so filled with purpose right now that it's a surprisingly easy feeling to incorporate into my life. I'm happier spending time with the kids, more patient as a tackle whatever incredibly important thing that they need me to at the moment, knowing that all my time will be distributed between things that I WANT it to be.

It's funny looking back on all the wants I've wanted this past year. There were some job opportunities I prayed for (begged God for is more like it) that didn't pan out. Now I see why. I wouldn't have been able to have those jobs and go to school. It's like I say "A-ha!" and a voice says "see?".

So I quit my job. Ever the Jenny I of course took off two weeks before summer semester starts. I need to have a little time off. Right?

Throw your hands in air, say oh-yayer

2010-03-09T17:24:00.000-05:00

The past three years or so have been hard. We sold the house we loved and moved across the state. Since then we’ve had to live in places we didn’t want to and take jobs that we didn’t like. We were “past” those places, but forced to still exist in them. James was born in the midst of all this and the one bright and shining reason why I wouldn’t want to just entirely block the past three years out of my life.

And suddenly, the sun is shining. Everything is so bright that it’s like a straight blessing directed at us, showing us that good things come to those who wait, those who pray, those who have faith.

We live in this incredible house that’s already more than that, it’s already our home.

Jeff got a new job. It pays more money, he enjoys it more and he’ll have every weekend off.

I’m still at my job (still waiting on a miracle there) but something even better has happened. I got accepted into the nursing program. One out of 110 accepted out of 1000 that applied.

We have money in the bank. And clothes on our back. And plenty of food in the fridge. And finally, something shiny in the future.

Happy happy joy joy! (Ren and Stimpy throwback.)

A Resolution

2010-01-09T09:40:00.001-05:00

Right now I am drinking coffee, cozied in my completely pilled-up grandma-ish type sweater, and in my office! Or computer room, or the room where everything has gone that doesn’t yet have a place (hence a frightening mound of blinds that seems sort of dangerous to walk around). This room has a giant window that looks out towards farmland and right now it shows a world covered with snow. Here in the south, snow is quite infrequent so its arrival is A Very Big Deal. There is non-stop news footage of flurries, announcements of school closings before anything is even sticking, but I’m all for it. I missed work yesterday for the snow and ended up spending half of the day in my pajamas getting caught up with my television habits and apparently that was exhausting enough a task to warrant a two hour nap with James later. I am ashamed of my laziness.

:::

So, nine days into the new year and I’m finally going to write a few words about it. I am not a resolutions type of person really. I make wide generalizations that leave much room for interpretation or error, things like “be a better person” which, really, is rather silly. Does that mean to give to the homeless or not yell as much or do twenty more sit-ups? I don’t know. So I got a little more specific this year.

You see, there are things about my life that I don’t really like, even though I love my life. I don’t like having to work, obviously, and I don’t like the struggles with money and the predictable pitfalls of having both cars suddenly give out or some other technical difficulty that really screws with day-to-day life. However, I can deal with all that. I can make the best of it. What really bothers me at those moments where I get all mopey and melancholy is how I’ve spent my time. I see other people (or read about them) who have work and kids also but also spend time devoted to fitness, or some other hobby. Women who actually make real dinners and go shopping for bargains and read books and throw parties. Women who take their kids to the park, museum, restaurants, home to make crafts. Women who take the time to WRITE.

I suppose my resolution is this – take the time, or make the time, for the things I love. Stop doing just enough to muddle through the day, stop doing just enough to keep up with the house, keep the kids fed and clean and then the day is over. Do more, or do it better, or whatever it may be.

Instead of here . . .

2009-12-30T10:46:00.000-05:00

What I've been doing besides updating my blawg:

* Celebrated my daughter's fourth birthday. Faith is amazing. I know she's mine so I may be a bit biased, but I think she's pretty damn smart, that one. She's such a character, she's physically endearing and her heart is big and sweet enough to make up a little for her short and hot temper. She loved her birthday, the attention, the presents, the cake, the poofy dresses she wore for days.

* Celebrated my thirtieth birthday. 30. I AM 30. It is hard to believe. I didn't do much, just . . . turned older.

* Decided to go back to school, more specifically nursing school, started going through the motions and realized the school I am applying at is very good and very competitive. So I stressed out, lurked on forums about the process of applying to said school, stressed some more, took tests, submitted all sorts of senseless yet expensive forms and now I wait until April to know their decision. In the meantime, I'll be taking more pre-requisite classes starting next week. I am not yet registered. I have no idea what classes I will take or when. It's exciting to not know! (Not)

* Decided that, you know what? I kind of don't like my job. Also, I heard that a really good job may be opening up where my cousin-in-law works. I sent my resume and now am waiting on pins and needles. Pray for me.

* Finished the house and moved in it. And am still moving. Every day. We had a lot of stuff. It's beautiful and spacious and wonderful and awesome and I love it and I rolled around on the floors and galloped down the hallways and put out my arms and twirled because I had room! So much space! Fun fact about larger houses - you might get yourself worked up at night at all the places a creepy murderer stalker could hide. There is a lot of them. Besides that, I love having a home again.

* Christmas, duh. It was sweet and fun setting up the Christmas scene for the morning when the kids would come downstairs. They had appropriate looks of joy and delight at their presents (a ride-able train for James, bike for Faith) that were waiting unwrapped under the tree. It was a day of happiness and wrapping paper littering every inch of the ground and broken ornaments and loud toys and not so loud toys that lethally waited for a tender foot to step on them and also some strange monk-type of Christmas music that Jeff just turned on for background noise and I think it was starting to brainwash me.

* Catching up on all my bloggy world obsessions since I've been without internet for way too long. Missed you all!

On Your Son's Second Birthday

2009-10-21T22:50:00.001-04:00

On your son’s second birthday you wake up when the alarm goes off, too early as always. Your head is still fighting for rapidly diminishing dreams, not enough rest absorbed. You remember being awake at midnight, with your book in your hand, waiting for the melatonin to kick in and knock you out. You hit snooze 1 or 4 times before forcing yourself out of bed, shuffling to the kitchen where you say a silent thank you to your husband for brewing coffee before he went to bed only an hour before.

You sit on the couch and sip, waiting for reality to set in, for your senses to catch up to your motions. Your daughter walks in, crawls onto your lap and falls back asleep. Your son, the birthday boy, soon follows, and by this time you are percolated enough to make breakfast for them and start sing-songy verses about birthdays and all sorts of wonderful things.

It’s time for clothes and makeup. Well, hell, just twist your hair up into a low bun because it really should have been washed this morning, but you didn’t get out of bed early enough, did you?

Off to work, the place you so lovingly named “Dysfunction Junction”. Your boss cries, you awkwardly try to continue doing your work. You light out of there two minutes early without guilt. Buy paper plates, a scented candle, and some lip gloss that turns out to be disappointingly orange.

Then off to see the concrete being poured for your driveway and some strange men as well as relatives working already several hours into hard labor. Look just long enough and then tuck your glossily most pointedly un-sweaty and orange-lipped self back into your vehicle and go to pick up your daughter from pre-school.

They tell you that she was flushed and warm earlier, keep an eye on her. Off to the supermarket because you just spoke to your mother-in-law who told you to pick up some ice cream and a prescription for your husband’s grandmother. Your daughter throws a fit over Oreos, sits down in the middle of the grocery store. Try to maintain proper balance of patience as well as discipline. Go home, wrap presents, change clothes, go next door where the future party waits.

Small talk, laughter, obligatory complaining about jobs-health problems-family members that are not present. Pizza arrives, chow down. Call husband, when will he be home? Wait. Wait. Wait. Son starts throwing self on ground, making highly unpleasant screeching sounds. Call husband, “when will you be here? Cake needs to be cut!”

Husband, weary, “Go ahead without me”.

So you go ahead, wishing your husband were here to see his son blow out the two candles on his birthday cake, to see the smile that can’t stay hidden when all the attention is on him, to see him tear open his presents and greet each one with unrestricted enthusiasm.

But it happens, and you smile, because you can’t restrain it, and everyone is laughing, and everyone is glad to be there on a Wednesday night, eating cake and celebrating life.

Pirates and Memes and my obsession revealed

2009-10-15T21:38:00.005-04:00

So, I happen to have a soft spot for memes. And books. And characters.

Somewhat recently I found the blog of sweet/salty Kate, and I've sort of become entranced and she happens to have a new book The Dread Crew: Pirates of the Backwoods and has a post up over at her place inviting others to share their answers for a chance at receiving her book as well as a spot in the reviewer's circle. Let the awesomeness commence!

1) You are facing an epic journey. You may choose one companion, one tool and one vehicle from any book or film to accompany you. Or just one of the three. It’s up to you. What do you choose.

AH. I’m going to have to go with the author’s pick of Jamie from the Outlander series as my companion. He could protect me and then we could, ah, rest. And as for vehicle, oh what the hell, let’s go with Donas the horse. Yes, I have obsession problems.

2) You can escape to the insides of any book. Where do you go, and why.

Prince Edward Island. To ANY of Lucy Maude Montgomery’s character’s homes. I still love to read those books every once in awhile to remember what it was I really wanted when I grew up.

3) You can bring one literary character into your current life. Who do you choose, and why?

Augustus from Lonesome Dove. Someone who has lived an adventurous life and is always in good spirits to regale you with lengthy tales about past times and the meaning of life.

4) _______ is my go-to book. I could read that book fifty-seven times in a row without a break for food or a pee and not be remotely bored. In fact I’ve already done that but it wasn’t fifty-seven times. It was sixty-four.

Outlander. All of the series. I read, and re-read them a few times a year. I love it to an obsession (see number 1). It’s the ultimate adventure, pure un-adulterated escapism. LOVE IT.

5) Of all the literary or film characters that made an impression on you as a kid, who was the most enviable?

Anne Shirley. Wholesome, spirited, rising up from being an orphan to a much loved friend and member of society, I love the book, love the movie.

6) Of all the literary or film characters that made an impression on you as a kid, who was the most frightening?

Though I had no business whatsoever seeing this movie as a child, the creepy old man in weird hat in the poltergeist movie. GAH.

7) Every time I read _______________, I see something in it that I haven’t seen before.

I think in the Great Gatsby I see new ways that the book, in the way it’s told, is absolutely timeless.

8) It is imperative that ________ be made into a movie. Now. I am already picketing Hollywood for this – but if they cast _____ as ____, I will not be happy. I will, however, be appeased if they cast _______.

I’m torn on this. I think To Kill a Mockingbird is one of the only movies that does justice to the book. So, when I love a book, I hate the thought of it being made into a movie. But for fun’s sake (and this is where you will roll your eyes) should Outlander be made into a movie, I would be disgusted if they chose anyone but Gerard Butler for Jamie. One can hope.

9) _______ is a book that should never be made (or should have never been made) into a film.

The Other Boleyn Girl. The movie didn’t even really have the same plot, which was, er, odd.

10) After all these years, the _________ scene in the book/movie _______ still manages to give me the queebs.

Clown under the bed. That’s all I can say.

11) After all these years, the __________ scene in the book/movie ____________still manages to give me a thrill.

Jake Ryan leaning on the car when Molly Ringwald walks out of the church at the end of sixteen candles. Sigh.

12) If I could corner the author _______________, here’s what I’d say to them one minute or less about their book, ___________:

Oh gracious. Here I go again. I’d gush to Diana Gabaldon that she has provided me with years of entertainment, thank you, thank you.

13) The coolest non-fiction book I’ve ever read is ______________. Every time I flip through it, it makes me want to ________________.

Animal, Vegetable, Miracle. It makes me want to grow, preserve, eat homegrown food FOREVER. Also, grow asparagus to see what it looks like in tree form.

What Dreams are Made of

2009-10-13T22:54:00.001-04:00

One of the things I find myself constantly repeating stupidly when talking about trailer life is “It’s not that bad,” which, when I think about it, is a really lame comment. Not that bad compared to what exactly? A third world prison? A mansion? The falling down house in town which seems to somehow magically hold an entire family? My point of reference for this comment is somewhat hazy, so it usually just slides by, but for some reason I feel the need to throw that out there. Yes, I am staying in this trailer on my husband’s land, yes it is temporary, yes it sucks, yes most of the doorknobs are plastic. But! It’s not THAT bad!

Well, truth be told, I must have some uppity snob somewhere inside of me because, yeah, sometimes it kind of is that bad. Thankfully, we’ve had a house to look forward to moving into despite the building process inching along. If we didn’t have a light at the end of the tunnel, I would probably be a lot more morose about this whole temporary tub of tin situation.

So that’s a reason I haven’t written too much lately because my mind is on two channels, one being HOUSE HOUSE HOUSE HOUSE and the other being WHY WON’T THE KIDS STOP TALKING/WHINING/FIGHTING FOR FIVE SECONDS SO I CAN READ A BOOK OR EAT A MEAL OR TAKE A SHOWER OR JUST STARE OFF INTO THE DISTANCE AND THINK ABOUT THE HOUSE.

It’s true. I’ve a one track mind lately. The house is so near to completion that I can almost taste the joy of living there, of bounding on my new carpet with bare feet, of being on a whole different floor than the kids, of opening a cabinet without a shower of Tupperware falling on my head.

And, in a completely shocking twist of feeling, I am going to miss this little pile of crap that is currently our home. I’ll miss being next door to my in-laws, of seeing cows and horses meandering up to our fence, of walking down to our garden when I want to make okra for dinner.

Ha! Who am I kidding? There is a mouse family under the cabinet in the kids bathroom and a strange and mysterious odor coming from the access door to the plumbing. I am DONE with this place!

On pins and needles waiting for the house, the house, the house . . .

Stuck

2009-09-22T21:40:00.001-04:00

We bought this house in January. It was framed, had a roof on it, windows and two exterior doors and that was it. We bought it awful cheap, but we had to finish it. I thought we would be moved in by now.

Instead flooring is just going in this week. We still have to do grading in the yard, pour a driveway, add gutters, cabinets and countertops. The painting is finished, as my aching back can attest to, and it is starting to resemble something of a home.

And yet, we have run out of money. I hate being without money. I don’t even care to have LOTS of money, I just want SOME money. Right when I started making more at Workplace the kids both became enrolled at daycare and whoosh, all that extra money flew out the window at a startlingly fast speed.

Jeff and I were talking today about it, and we were reaching into the financially dim recesses of our brains, fishing for change, wondering where we could scrounge enough money together to finish the house. When we both were at a loss for words I suggested that we just go ahead and do what felt natural. “Let’s panic!”

I’m really not quite there yet. I don’t see the point in worrying over things that won’t get better by just focusing negative energy on it. At the same time, I do NOT want to turn thirty in this tin box! I know, pride and vanity and all that, but really . . . is that too much to ask for?

Besides working on the house, we’ve been battling the plague, some nasty head cold mess that infected our entire family and didn’t go away until the past couple of days. Vacation is now behind us and I’m in that mode of wanting something to look forward to, maybe a camping trip or a new haircut, or maybe, just maybe, a moving day.

Beachbound

2009-08-29T08:10:00.000-04:00

As of this moment we were supposed to have three whole minutes before we started the car and pulled down the long driveway to begin our journey to the beach. Instead, I am sitting her at the computer in my soft blue bathrobe, finishing up bills and uploading some baby photos onto Google's server. Just in case our place catches fire while we're gone. I have fears like that. More and more often.

The kids are still asleep, Jeff is crankily changing oil in the cars somewhere, next door at my in-laws' I think. He was the one chanting the “we leave at 8:00!” mantra, I was more like, eh, we leave when we leave. It is the beginning of a RELAXING vacation, right? RIGHT?

I packed up the kids clothes, and haven't even began on ours yet. I am hesitant about what to pack, Jeff's sister and cousin are tiny, petite, and in the summer time always bikini-clad with such a nonchalant attitude that it surpasses confidence. I, however, am the one who cares more about my cover-up than my swim suit since that's what I'll have on all the time. I worry about being compared to others, even though every one else thinks that is just so silly and foolish. My silly and foolish mind gets concerned though, imagining sitting beside Jeff's cousin and chatting and laughing and then picturing us: her small, blond, tan, sitting at ease in her bikini, and me, pale, awkward, cellulite-clad, uncomfortable. Hopefully I will get over that mess and just BE, be there, in the moment, in the sunshine, playing with the kids without a care to the world.

So, shortly, we'll be off, headed to the Gulf of Mexico for a week of massive family fun, sun-soaking, sand-coated, and hopefully, blissfully unaware of the outside world.

Adventures In Daycare

2009-08-10T21:37:00.000-04:00

Friday morning started off badly, with Faith writhing and going all limp bodied as I tried to get her dressed, to her slowly leaking big tears out of bright and pleading eyes on the way to school. I stopped and got her a big cookie to eat on the way, hoping that bribery and chocolate would take the sting out of me forcing her to go to school, but no, once we pulled up she started crying and begging me not to leave her. I had one of those moments standing outside of the car when I was half-expecting a REAL adult to walk up and take over the situation, instructing me gently how to handle life and other things. In the end I had to pry her from the car and carry her inside, handing her off to her teacher who was sweetly consoling her and promising her big fun and I had to rush quickly out the door before anyone could see me do my crumple cry face. I saved that for the ride to work, fanning myself before walking in and swallowing the big lump of failure, disappointment, and reality before settling into the day.

The real treat of the day, however, came when I went to pick her up at the end of the day. She was in somewhat high spirits and her teacher started telling me what she had done all day and we were making small talk when in bursts a young woman from the playground hollering about who was driving the Honda. “I am,” I started, staring at her, when she then told me that it was rolling away. I turned towards the door and the teacher had to tell me to, you know, put my daughter down before I went running outside, so down I put her and hauled out the front door, alarming all the teachers in the main area, and I saw the white Honda slowly crossing the large field next door to the daycare, almost to the cross road. I ran harder than I have, oh, lets see, EVER, simultaneously praying that the car would stop before it got to the road or that I would get there first, thanking myself for choosing to wear flats that day, hearing a car honk and sure it is that girl I work with watching me race across a field after a runaway car, and wondering if I really did have to walk back inside after this or could I just call Jeff and have him go get Faith now, and always in the future.

I walked back inside, sheepishly but trying to laugh at myself, like oh isn't it so funny? I let my car roll away! In a parking lot of the day care at the end of the day when kids are walking outside! I cried this morning and then caused a big scene in the afternoon! In the end I just mustered as much dignity as one can and gathered up my daughter and paid the administrator for the week and walked out, both of us wishing we didn't ever have to go back.

Summer School

2009-07-28T22:04:00.000-04:00

Tomorrow, for the first time ever, Faith is going to daycare. This is a Big Deal. I'm not quite sure why, since I know she has been begging to go to school, with the playground, and the kids, and the little chairs and the little tables and the story times, and the sing along songs, and everything she has ever heard about it has enchanted her. So she is thrilled.

I, on the other hand, am not so much. It is the whole stranger taking care of my child thing. It is the whole no one can love her like I do thing. It is the whole what if there are too many kids to watch and she gets hurt thing. It's the worry and the loss of control and the fear that maybe she'll just blend in too much and no one will fall absolutely head over heels in love with her, like she deserves.

I wish things were different and I could stay with her every day, but they are not and I'm not going to dwell too much, but yes, my little girl is going to “school” as she says and I just hope that some child will run up and grab her hand and want to play and be best friends forever.

:::

James is not going to daycare and I'm not sure what to think anymore about childcare situations. Just go with the flow, I suppose. It's times like this when I think “what am I, absolutely NUTS for even thinking for a second that I could possibly want another child? What would I DO with it????”

Work is . . .well, work. I know that the eleventh commandment is thou shalt not write about work on thy blog, so I'll try to refrain but oh how I would love to. What with the awkward situations and the sometimes pleasant conversations and the vast difference between a career and a job. Yes, think about that for a moment and then guess on which side I fall. Blah blah economy blah blah poor blah take what you can get blah come home and forget about it.

:::

On a much happier note, this is by far and away the best summer of my adult life. I am not pregnant or nursing or have an infant that can't walk. I can put floaties on both kids and we can all swim. They can play outside for hours, we can all absorb the sun and then all daze around in a blissful sleepiness. There are impromptu cookouts, late night parties, entire days spent floating down the Chattahoochee, and warm days that slowly fade into hazy twilight evenings dotted with fireflies. The kids can both enjoy every moment of the day, from sunup to sundown. I love this summer so much that it makes me sad that July is almost over and want to do a Zack Morris and freeze time.

June

2009-06-30T23:58:00.001-04:00

One of the many things that I should have written about in this space is the fact that my sister-in-law gave birth to a tiny and adorable girl last week. I managed to show up at the hospital in that magical window where modesty is gone and acceptance has taken over so I was able to stay in the room during the birth. Despite all the scandal that an unplanned pregnancy to an unmarried woman not yet 21 caused, I cried when I saw my little sister-in-law choke up with those joyous sobs as she held her baby to her chest for the first time. It doesn't matter when it happens, whether the timing is right or not, it is powerful, that moment when your old life dies and your new one starts.

:::

My sister lost her house, one of my best friends has lost her job of 10 years, my mother-in-law very well could lose her job tomorrow, and Jeff and I have been in a blur of constant moving, relocating all of our possessions again and again. We continue to work on our house, now onto the painting stage, just so thankful that we have something to look forward to when so many around us have lost so much.

:::

Even though the lives of everyone around us seems to have flipped upside down and inside out, our little foursome keep on going on just fine. Work, and the house finishing process, the madness that is taking care of small children, the things we would like to do versus the things that need to be done . . . it's all an often frustrating but comfortably happy storm. I end up staying up late, like tonight, just to listen to music or catch glimpses of shows that I remember liking to watch when I didn't hear shrieking in the background. Or reading – books, YOUR blog, and yours too, and a million others as well. I keep telling myself “Write, Jenny, write now while the babies are asleep, write before that long list of things to write about in your head starts getting faded and lost forever, write” but then I look at the clock and midnight is so close and I have to get up for work in the morning. And slowly, but surely, all the things I want to write about are drifting away into never never land.

So -
Faith, my sweetheart, is at turns wonderfully good and deliberately bad. She tells me that she wants to ask me a question, then asks how an elephant goes through walls, like walls of glass. I am flummoxed, of course, because how DO they? But she has the answer. They just lift up their trunks and knock out a hole of glass and walk through it. Then she runs back off into the other room until she has another question that she already has the answer for. She still likes holding my hand when she falls asleep and still wants to cuddle on my lap and still wants me to “hold her forever” and I don't ever want that to end. She is so proud of herself at the pool, wanting me to watch her jump off the stairs, she is energetically giddy when she's around other kids or when we act like kids by dancing foolishly or running around in circles outside. She reads with me and then tries to repeat all the words that I've just said while cutting her eyes at me, watching to see my reaction to her somewhat flawed reading. I, of course, am enthusiastic, which she adores.

She and James are fighting more now, over toys, over food, over my attention or lap space. He is talking, if you can really call it talking, although I can mostly translate. He's picking up new words every day, finally, but he still has an appointment this week for a consultation on the tongue clipping that he's bound to receive. I could go back and slap, or at least foot stomp, the pediatrician that he had at birth who didn't think that being tongue-tied would bother him and “let's hold off on clipping it until we see if it affects his speech”. Which his pediatrician now, whom I adore, says that it certainly does. He is all boy, reckless and fearless, jumping off of the couch, climbing atop anything he can get a grip on. He is covered in bruises and scrapes and has dirt under his short fingernails and is always pulling off his pants and then his diaper and running laughing through the house and occasionally doing things that should only happen in a diaper then running to me, concerned, and talking his strange James babble. He's got the sweetest smile I've ever seen, the cutest pout, and a surprisingly strong arm when he gets mad and hits.

They both walk into our room at night and climb into bed with us and fall back asleep. They are both doing new things every day, things I want to remember, some I don't, and I am really enjoying them this summer. It is the first time in years when I haven't had an infant or been pregnant, and it's such a simple joy to go next door to the pool and be able to put on their floaties and us all just . . . be. And swim. And soak up the sun. As adorable as my newborn niece is, this is what I've been looking forward to when I wanted to become a mother. To have this, our family, all able to enjoy the same thing at the same time, with each other.

Reunited and A Close Call

2009-06-03T21:07:00.000-04:00

The children came back from their trip three days early and I was thrilled to see them and at the same time disappointed that I still hadn't shampooed carpets, read entire books while lounging in the bathtub while only rising enough to turn on the hot water occasionally, or, oh I don't know, write another post.

I was so glad to see them though, nearly tripping over my own feet to rush to them, not sure of who to pick up first – Faith, who was energetically telling me about “arts and crafts!” or James, who was stumbling quickly to me yelling “Ma! Ma!”. We've fallen back into our old groove like we never left it and life is happy and chaotic as usual.

:::

On Saturday we took the kids next door to my in-laws' pool and Jeff's cousins joined us with their children. Jeff had to leave to go to work that night (boo) and I was talking with my father-in-law and cousin, while watching the kids, never taking my eyes off of them for more than a couple of seconds. All of the sudden Faith started yelling and us adults all looked towards her and all of us bolted upright because James was in the water, about two feet from the edge and I have no idea how that happened when moments before he has been sitting about two feet AWAY from the edge of the pool. He didn't have his little floaties on because he kept coming to me trying to get me to pull them off and I finally did, figuring we were about to go home and he was done with swimming (he had gotten water in his face about an hour prior and was DONE with the pool) (I thought). So I, foolishly, took off the floaties and let him play with his truck by the pool because I was right there and watching him. And then he's in the water.

I don't remember how, but the next thing I knew I was in the water pulling him out and he just grasped onto my arms, coughed a couple of times into my neck, eyelashes clumped together by the water framing wide eyes. He hadn't lost his breath and just wanted to hold onto me. My father-in-law said he was about to jump in when I pushed him out of the way, and the rest of the family got a chuckle out of that the next day when we recounted the story. But it terrified me. I had just read horrific stories of children drowning and here my own baby was, under the water. It seizes up my chest just writing this.

Without making a bigger deal out of this than it was, suffice to say that I am at danger of becoming one of those parents, you know, the ones that make their teenage children wear life preservers and the such.

Without

2009-05-27T21:15:00.001-04:00

Awhile ago my mother-in-law decided that she was going to go to camp meeting this year in North Carolina. She used to go all the time, taking my husband and his sisters when they were small and always enjoyed it so much that she's been wanting to go back for years now and something always comes up and she never can. So when she told me that she wanted to go this year and take the kids with her, I just sort of assumed that something would fall through and then on Saturday her and my very pregnant sister-in-law told Jeff and I to have the kids ready by 1:00 the next day because they were going to camp meeting and they were taking the kids with them.

I hemmed and hawed and Jeff eventually talked me into it, telling me how the kids would have such a great time there and so on and so forth and so now the kids are in North Carolina and have been since Sunday and will continue to be until this coming Sunday and I am going absolutely out of my mind.

What on earth did I do before I had kids? I keep wandering around aimlessly, picking up books and turning on the television and browsing through my itunes library and even trying on my own clothes for heaven's sake. We don't have the money to go shopping or get pedicures or whatever other self-indulgent mess I can think of. So I've been eating and lounging and trying to enjoy food without tiny hands creeping onto my plate and uninterrupted reading. But I keep drifting, thinking of the kids, imagining the worst case scenario, thinking that if they were here right now they would be crawling onto my lap or pointing at words on the pages for me to pronounce.

When they are here I am always half-devising a plan in my head to occupy them just so I can have a few precious moments alone, and now I have sweeps of empty moments ahead of me and all I can think is FAITH and JAMES.

Shoulda

2009-05-20T23:52:00.000-04:00

It is nearing midnight and my three year old daughter is laying sideways on my pillows, arms and legs splayed out, and my one year old son is curled up like a shrimp on the foot of my bed. I am still wearing my bathrobe from the shower I took four hours ago, and I never did comb my hair so I have no idea how I'm going to wear my wavy, cow-licked hair tomorrow.

I know that I should be in bed. I should have drank more water today and eaten less of that drool-worthy sandwich. I should have lined up someone to grade our new yard. I should have made that appointment for the 18 month check-up that James should have gone to last month. I should have exercised. I should have paid the car bill. I should have read more books to the kids and watched less television. I should have not cared so much about the cedar chips that cover the kids every time they play outside. I should have written in my blog in, oh I don't know, maybe the past few weeks?

I wonder if I'll ever get better at this, the prioritizing of time. I know that there are some things that I love to do, and yet, I find myself going two days, a week, a month, without doing them.

However, the house is getting built, the kids are staying fed, relatively clean, and joyously happy. There is money in the bank. I'm healthy, and alive, and growing more peaceful and accepting and, dare I say it, happy every day.

Haircut

2009-04-22T22:41:00.005-04:00

I should really take this opportunity to talk about my new job and how happily surprised I am with it or maybe I should complain about how long this finishing building a house business is taking, but instead I have urgent and important news.

We cut Jamie's hair.

Poor James. Born with a hair growth pattern that most closely resembles that one Stooge, or perhaps a mad scientist, and as most often commented by others “just like an old man's”. Yes, it is true. It has hardly grown at all on the top and just grown OUT from the back and the sides in a wild curly mane that brings to mind electric shock therapy. When just bathed it is soft curls and I know, gag, boys with curls, but on my baby it was the most beautiful thing on earth. But then it kept growing and finally I realized that it was starting to resemble a mullet and you know what? I already live in a country ass mountain town and I really don't need to add “mullet” to the list of things that I currently have to endure. So I pulled out the scissors and we went outside and I attempted my first little boy's haircut. It didn't turn out as bad as I thought it would, especially when James took off and I had to chase my 18 month old around the yard with scissors in my hands. I know. I should write a child safety manual.

Before picture. See? Mullet. Yikes.

I'm a total hick. I cut my half-naked son's hair on the porch. Realizing I have reached a new low.

It's a little long on top, but that's only because I thought the child should experience longer hair on top like most normal children.

He seems rather taken with it.

Something Good

2009-04-09T10:01:00.000-04:00

I would like to take a moment from my whooping and cartwheeling to say that I have finally, FINALLY, been hired at a small company here in town. It's run out of a little old brick house and the front room will be my office, oh happy day, I have an office again! I've already been making mental plans to bring in a little potted plant to sit on my desk next to the window, and wondering which pictures of the kids I want to frame and bring in.

Oh, I know, it's not all about decorating my desk. It's also about paychecks! MONEY! We'll be able to pay our mortgage on the big, beautiful house that we're building!

Can you tell I'm in a good mood?

I start work tomorrow. We don't exactly have all the kinks worked out with the whole “who's going to keep the kids” thing, so that will be, um, fun. It won't be a problem until next week and hopefully we'll have something worked out by then. So today I plan on doing fun things with the kids, things out of the ordinary like making the drive to a larger town, one that has a movie theater and department store. I'm feeling brave, like I can take two small children out into the world and not feel overwhelmed. Ah, the sweet surge of optimism that comes with a job offer!

Something Bad

2009-04-03T23:04:00.002-04:00

My sister-in-law had come by to pick up her phone charger. She ended up staying for awhile, talking about her pregnancy and I was offering, as usual, everything I had so that she could make preparations for her future daughter. I like pregnancy talk. We sat here for awhile.

She stood up to leave and looked out the open front door, through the screen door, at the driveway and announced that Angie, my cousin-in-law (but also a very close friend), was pulling up. Strange, I thought, that she would be coming here at this time.

My sister-in-law was asking what was wrong before I even saw Angie's face. Angie was sobbing and shaking, distraught, obviously, asking if we could keep her son because someone was dead in her driveway. I said of course, trying to register what was being said, while trying to seem calm. She left and my sister-in-law sat back down to absorb the news.

Jeff called a few minutes later. He was with his father, who was the first person Angie called after 911, and they had gone over and discovered it was a woman, sitting in the driver's seat of her locked car, still dripping blood from her nose and mouth as they peered through the tinted windows.

Angie and her son, who had gotten off early from school, had returned home from doing a few errands. She started to pull into her very long driveway and saw a car parked ahead of her. Thinking it was someone lost and needing to turn around she waited for a moment, and then awhile longer trying to figure out what they were doing. She eventually got out of her car and walked up to the stranger to ask them to leave when she saw . . . what she saw. It was horrible, disturbing to say the least, and she promptly freaked out and called 911. Then my father-in-law, before driving over here.

“Thank goodness you have a lot of family around here,” I told her later that night, trying to say something optimistic about the whole sad story.

Why her driveway, we wondered? It is up the hill and behind where we live, a little to the side. It is a driveway used by three people, a house out of sight, but a lived in one nonetheless. Who was this woman? Did she know them, any of us?

Later we learned it was a neighbor who lived a mile or so down the road. She was on her way, supposedly, to pick up her 12 year old son from school. She had a three week old baby at home. My first thought on hearing this was “postpartum depression”, simple as that. Things suddenly made sense. I tried to tell my father-in-law, who looked at me skeptically, that this was something very serious for some women.

Angie came over here tonight and we talked for a bit. What she saw today is something no one should ever see. We talked about the selfishness of suicide, about people we've known hurt by it. Angie, who is a seasoned gore addict, is already haunted by the images, and I can't get the family out of my head.

I don't know the lesson we're supposed to learn by these things. Why did that happen when it did, where it did, why it did? I suppose it's just important to remember that they do happen.

Vacation and Back

2009-04-03T22:38:00.001-04:00

I once had a friend in high school who was secretly called the one-date wonder by another one of our friends. I use the word “friend” very loosely here. She was very pretty and funny, innocent and wild at the same time, the type of girl that guys usually start drooling over. However, every time she went on a date it ended strangely with the boy never asking her out again. Since she was full of back-handed compliments and seemingly harmless biting remarks to us, we got a secret thrill out of her misery. I know, I know. I don't feel the same way NOW of course, but back then it was a little glee I received, seeing how things really did come back around.

So it was with grim realization that I now realize that I am the one-interview wonder. Or in one case it was the two-interview wonder. I send out countless resumes, get the exciting call to come in to interview, dress to the nines, speak all sorts of fancy talk, and then . . . nothing. Sometimes there is the call back, which is like a punch to the gut, and sometimes they don't even bother to let me know they've chosen someone else. I'm trying to laugh about it, but suffice to say that I am becoming very discouraged.

:::

Happier days were just had by Jeff and me. We went down to Tybee for five days. Yes, FIVE DAYS. I cried the last morning when we started to make our way home. We called the house to let my sister-in-law know that we were en-route and she put Faith on the phone. Her little voice saying “I love you. I miss you.” was just too much. I wished that we could tele-port ourselves home.

While we were there, though, it was unbelievable. We watched movies without interruption, ate out constantly, walked on the slightly chilly beaches, and enjoyed ourselves completely. Except for the whole no kids thing. It ate away at me a little. A little.

:::

I'm back now, back to reality, where the ocean doesn't lie right around the corner, back to where there is a shortage of jobs, a house that seems to take forever to get built, and many extra pounds from all that eating out.

I know this is going to sound silly – but when I walked back through the door and the kids both threw themselves at me . . . well, that was the best part of the vacation.

Lately, Sickly

2009-03-20T21:58:00.001-04:00

I was having one of my many recent gossip and catch-up talk sessions with my cousin-in-law, Angie, when I mentioned casually how we somehow managed to get through the entire winter without getting sick. At all. I mean, with two small children and two adults working that's like impossible right? We did it though!

Yeah. You know where this is going.

It started on Monday with a sore throat. Then I felt like my brain was exploding, or imploding, or something equally as disastrous. “Me and my big mouth,” I thought, “bragging about how insanely well we are all the time.”

I put off going to the doctor thinking it was just a cold, refrained from kissing the kids which is unthinkable and unbearably hard, and generally just suffered for the next few days until today when I sucked it up and went the doctor. Then I was told that I had a respiratory infection, sinus infection, AND an ear infection. On top of all of that Jeff has been on night shift so I've been doing this parenting thing all by myself and I feel like I deserve some sort of medal, or award in my name, or a pedicure, or maybe just a free go at cadbury eggs and some nachos.

:::

The kids have actually not been too bad, and I'm mostly just thankful that they haven't caught The Sickness. Jeff and I are going away in a week and we'll be gone from the kids for the longest amount of time since, um, birthing them, and I'm sort of doing that half gleeful/half sorrowful thing. It will be WONDERFUL to eat out without them, without rushing home to get them before it gets too late, to sleep through entire nights without waking up to random cries, or a little body scurrying in beside me and kicking me unintentionally in the gut. At the same time, I am already worrying about someone else keeping my kids, what happens if Jeff and I die in a car crash, who will raise our kids, will they use our life insurance wisely, what happens if the next caregivers die, who will THEY leave the kids too, and other happy thoughts that roam wildly through my head at night.

I need to get some decent sleep tonight.

:::

These days of trying to make the most of my time with the kids, but being sick and trying to keep my distance is just not do-able. The other night, while Jeff was gone, both kids ended up in bed with me and their little warm bodies were a comfort to me. Faith pats my head when I lay down during the day. James, well, there's nothing sweet that he does. He's had a little burst of language advancement so he'll yell “Mo! Mo! Mo!” while he throws his cup at my head. He does have an awful sweet smile though. That counts for a lot.

So off I go, swallowing antibiotics and Tylenol pm and hopefully dreaming something pleasant without a middle of the night shrieking to end it all too abruptly.

Rejection and Dresses

2009-03-11T22:01:00.002-04:00

“Hello, Jennifer?”

“Yes?” I replied, barely able to contain my excitement.

“While it was very nice meeting you, we decided to go with another candidate. It was a very hard decision, but she had just a little more experience. I'm sorry. I'd love to keep your resume in case we have something else open up, though,” she told me. I swallowed, and managed to croak out that I would appreciate that and thanks for her time.

********

I had managed two rounds of interviews, met the board of directors for this company, got my hair cut for it all for goodness sake. All for nothing. I wish now that I hadn't even heard of the job, it was perfect hours, perfect location, more than perfect pay and for an organization that I would have truly loved working for. Now when I peek back at the classifieds the only things that are open seem to be greasy little holes in the wall who pay their administration hardly anything. I just sigh and wearily close my browser window. Don't really feel like looking now.

********

An hour later I put James into one of Faith's dresses and it seemed to make the whole day better. So there's the upside! He's a very pretty boy and it went perfectly with his way-too-long curls. I, of course, took pictures.

I suppose that I WOULD jump off a bridge if everyone else did

2009-02-19T09:09:00.003-05:00

Twenty-five things about yours truly:

1. I named my daughter after my grandmother, who I was very close to. I knew that I would long before I even contemplated becoming pregnant. James is named after his-great-grandfather. So, Faith is named for my mother’s mother and James is named for Jeff’s father’s father. We didn’t really set out to do that.

2. I once was attacked by a cougar. Another time I was on the back of a runaway horse. Both of these things happened at summer camp.

3. Whenever I see a green and grassy hill I have the very strong urge to roll down it.

4. I’ve always thought that it was my calling to become a mother, and now that I have children I feel even more strongly so.

5. I WILL write a book someday.

6. I have very ugly toes and very pretty teeth.

7. I am not a good driver. I used to be terrible (my friend nicknamed my car “the bashing mobile of terror”), but I’ve improved to Not Good.

8. Also, not so good at directions. I have gotten lost coming home from work, from a job I had been at for years. Also got lost while using my mother-in-law’s GPS. I’m special like that.

9. If I believed in psychic abilities I would say that my mother, sister, and I all have a touch of it. But I don’t.

10. I know that things happen for a reason; I know there is purpose to certain things – sometimes I just wish I knew the answers.

11. I have a passion for books. My ultimate vacation would be warm sand on my (ugly) toes, quietly roaring surf, and a deliciously good book in my hands. OR! In a cozy sweater, curled in a giant chair by a fire in a mountain cottage with a book. Either one.

12. I’ve heard that time heals all. I don’t think I believe that. Yet.

13. I have an incredible faith in God that grows every day. It has given me a peace that I can’t describe, one that I’m not sure I could function without.

14. I knew my friend Tracy would be one of my best friends for life when she told me that she too loved Anne of Green Gables.

15. I’ve had wild times and I’ve had mild times. I prefer the mild.

16. I make delicious salsa.

17. I’m fairly smart. Okay, I’m being modest. I’m very smart.

18. And sometimes a little too proud.

19. I used to dye my hair red, then blonde, then red, then blonde. I’ve given it up for my natural hair color of kind-of boring brown. I like it a lot better than I thought I would.

20. I know that every mother thinks this, but my children are the most beautiful and brightest kids I’ve ever known. And VERY funny.

21. My life has a soundtrack.

22. If home is where the heart is, then my heart is still in Dallas, Georgia.

23. There are so many places that I want to travel to, but never enough time or money. So I plan on taking major trips in about ten years.

24. The song I always sang to my babies when I rocked them was Clementine. If I was all “Clementined” out then I would sing bah bah black sheep for Faith and row row your boat for James.

25. I’m incredibly optimistic. Despite moments of being very sad, and a lot of those moments being strung along in a row, I know that I have much to be thankful of – my children, my parents, my sisters, my friends - life is AWFUL good!

Thinking

2009-02-06T22:13:00.001-05:00

Sometimes I think about a third child. I think about the tender fragility of a tiny body secure in my arms. I think about how newborns do that funny, wobbly, rooting thing that always makes me smile. Or that moment when you see the second pink line and you realize that your whole life has just changed. The preparations, carefully washing and folding small cotton pajamas and cozy socks and placing them carefully in cleaned drawers. I think about that fluttering feeling that turns into solid, fluid stirrings in the belly, and how that always used to make me smile, like I knew something about this new baby that no one else did. I think about the anticipation of birth, meeting a son or daughter for the first time, those sleepless but amazing first weeks . . .

Then there are nights like last night. Jeff was at work, and both kids ended up in bed with me before too long, Faith asleep and pressed up to my right side, James, warm and quiet, pushed up to my left. In my king sized bed I had no room to turn over and I thought how would there be enough of me to go around for a new baby?

M.I.A.

2009-01-31T19:28:00.007-05:00

I have been ignoring ye olde blog as of late. Right now I have two small, but loud, reasons why who happen to be climbing on my lap. So! How about a couple of pictures.

Faith, helping with muffins, in the blue morning light.

James, up close and personal.

I shall write again soon and tell of the new (!) house which is far from finished, or my new job, or how I am eating healthy again and always hungry, or some other facet of my fascinating life. Ah, how I love the sarcasm.

Adjusting

2009-01-15T10:29:00.001-05:00

Jeff’s work schedule is somewhat strange and since the kids and I usually have no sort of routine of our own we often fall into Jeff’s on/off shifts and I have to stop and think about what day it is, when we should be sleeping, and other things that are completely not normal.

This week he has started working nights and I now have TWO part time jobs so I’m sure that the next few weeks will be a confusing blur of wake/sleep home/away questioning who has the children sort of mess that I can only hope will go smoothly.

We should be closing on the house any day now and the appraisal came back $90,000 OVER what we are getting it for, so to say that I am thrilled is an extreme understatement. Faith tells me that she wants to paint her room black, which makes me think I have a mini-goth in my midst. She also tells me that she doesn’t know how to play all by herself, she doesn’t know how to go potty all by herself, she doesn’t know how to sleep, eat, etc. all by herself, making me be her constant companion all day. When I get tough (ha!) and tell her she has to do whatever it is by herself she looks at me with big, round, blue eyes and tells me that it will make her sad. Which makes ME sad that she’s sad (and also a little ashamed that I’m constantly being guilted by a three year old), but also frustrated that I can’t have all the time in the world to just sit and play with her.

There is simply too much to do these days, but it’s a glorious sort of busy. It’s wonderful to have a life that calls for hair that is styled and makeup applied, instead of too-long hair and paper thin t-shirts with faded script. It’s nice to have somewhere that I have to be, a place I have to leave home behind for, if just for a few short hours. It’s nice to just be Jenny again for a little while, and not constantly “mommy”. Even writing that, though, makes me wonder if I’ll ever be able to separate the two, if I’ll be able to be gone without thinking constantly about the kids and how they are doing, what they are doing.

Here I go. Hooray and ouch at the same time.

What's Going On

2009-01-09T23:33:00.001-05:00

Where have I been?

Playing Xbox, lego man, obsessively.

Getting back in shape, painfully.

On a new sleep schedule, one that included 1:00 a.m. nachos (see above).

Going on interviews.

Working from home, with children in the background. This is impossible, by the way.

Making phone calls to lenders and realtors while managing to remain in the dark.

Staying close to family, listening.

Playing barbies, ponies, and pets.

Nursing bruises and booboos.

Reading every chance I can.

Discussing heavy metal.

Laundry.

Dancing in my living room, with the kids, spinning, dipping, and twirling, joyfully.

I feel wonderfully refreshed, somehow washed clean of the melancholy that I’ve been dipped in. I feel powerful, like I can do ANYTHING. Life is amazingly good all of the sudden. Or rather, it always has been and my eyes just opened.

This Too Shall Pass

2008-12-31T19:20:00.001-05:00

This past year has been, hands down, the hardest of my life. It’s not because I was adjusting to being the parent of two young children – in fact, that part has been surprisingly enjoyable.

It was my marriage. It was missing my old friends. It was accepting hard truths. It was going without money, without things. It was living in the middle of nowhere, in a trailer none the less. It was feeling like I should be doing more, for my children, for my husband, for myself even. But the days became a blur, one day seamlessly weaving into the next and all the while my goals remained unmet, something large was missing, I kept feeling as though I should have been doing more. What “more” was I could never say, but I knew I wasn’t doing enough.

It’s been hard to deal with but I learned that the only thing I could do was to trudge forward and make the most out of every moment that I could. Those moments when Faith was incredibly sweet and tender, crawling into bed to curl up next to me with her long strawberry-blonde hair tickling my nose. Those moments when the kids somehow miraculously played happily together. The moments when Jeff and I managed to get grandparents to babysit so we could get a dinner out. When James said “mama”. When we went on car rides as a family, the children falling asleep, their faces mirroring each other. Those joyful moments of stepping on the scale. James, clutching tightly to me, with his precious smile and urgent need to have me near. Faith, singing, theatrically – reminding me of just what I thought a child of mine would be long before I ever had children.

I remember a framed section of cloth near the door of my grandmother’s house. It had the words “This too shall pass” cross-stitched onto it. I used to think that it was an ominous reading into the future, something to remind us that everything will be gone and forgotten one day, in an apocalyptic way. Instead, as my grandmother told me with arched eyebrow, it meant that our troubles will all pass one day, just as suddenly as they came.

That comes to me often now. This too shall pass.

And on the horizon, better times, more happy moments, joy found in unexpected places. I’m so ready for it that my breath catches in my throat to think of it.

Happy New Year, world.

Christmas

2008-12-27T12:04:00.001-05:00

The Sunday before Christmas Jeff and I went to Atlanta to continue our new-ish tradition of a couple of days spent kid-free in the city. We got a room that looked out onto Centennial Park, which was all done up in lights and Christmas music drifted out from the ice-skating rink that was set up in the middle of the park. It was beautiful at night, entertaining during the day. I could have spent most of the weekend staring out the window, looking at families and couples celebrating the holidays outdoors in the freezing (literally) cold.

We ate lots of good food, had fantastic seats for the hockey game, were able to sleep at night without a baby kicking our heads, but I was very happy to come home to the children and our own little Christmas tree with a handful of presents underneath.

:::

We had three separate Christmas celebrations, all different. We are now swimming in a sea of barbies, ponies, and tiny trucks. My mother went overboard, like she always does, and gave Jeff and I an Xbox and now I am obsessed with the Indiana Jones lego man game. I have kept Jeff up late the past couple of nights playing it, until he tells me that he HAS to go to sleep now.

As usual, I’m glad and sad that Christmas is over. The magic is gone now, the anticipation of everyone opening up the gifts I’ve gotten them is over, and I’m ready to throw out the tree to be burned so I don’t have to vacuum up needles anymore. The sweet and melancholy music is not relevant anymore.

:::

Back when Jeff and I were just dating, before marriage and children, we had conversations of what kind of Christmases we wanted to have with our own children someday. We talked about the best parts of our Christmas celebrations as kids, what we wanted to repeat, what we wanted to start new. Yes, we wanted to go crazy with gifts for our children. Yes, we wanted to make the season a big deal. Yes, we wanted kids of our own someday who were thrilled with every moment, enchanted by the lights and the sounds, who stared wide-eyed at the bright boxes under the tree.
So it was more than fulfilling this past week to watch them have all the things we wanted for them. And very satisfying indeed when Faith opened up all her gifts, looked amazed at all she had and looked up at me, blue eyes round and serious , and said “Thank you Mommy”.

Working

2008-12-15T22:45:00.001-05:00

Everything is going along just swimmingly. The offer on the house was accepted, another financial move fell easily into place and then my father, out of nowhere, tells me that he has some work needed to be done on an up and coming project of his and do I want to do it from home to make extra money? Well, yes I do, Dad and thank you for asking!

I've always had a fairly strict policy on working with family – that it should NEVER be done. My father owns his own company and at any given time there have been at least three or more family members working there.

*shudder*

It's many things. The fear of other people thinking I had gotten a job not because of my intelligence but because of who I was related to. The fear of not seeing my father as my dad anymore, but my boss instead. Or my sister. Or uncles. Etc.

I wouldn't ever want to question anything myself either. I would want to know that I had received a raise because I deserved it, not because my parents knew I was having hard times financially. I would want to be promoted when I earned it and never question if “Daddy” was just helping out again. So over the years I have stood firm and always knowingly smiled at my poor sister's woes of working with my father and now I have succumbed. Because I am poor and I need the money and I have no shame.

Tonight, though, when I did my meager share of work sitting at my antique desk with my Christmas tree softly lighting the room, I felt that small soaring feeling again. I was doing work, real work that I'm going to get paid for. And it felt good.

How We Got Here, Where We're Going

2008-12-10T23:26:00.001-05:00

Once upon a time Jeff and I lived in a comfortable little house in Dallas, Georgia which is about thirty or so miles west of Atlanta. We fixed it up, worked hard, loved our serene and cozy home. It had a huge, flowing river birch in the front yard and dogwoods dominating the backyard. It had a little window over the kitchen sink that looked onto our miniature magnolia tree. The sunlight filtered through the windows like poetry, lighting our happy little home with warmth and sunshine.

Jeff took a year off of work to go to school. I took a year off to raise our baby girl. Money was tight. We accumulated debt. We couldn't afford the house anymore. We put it up for sale and it had a contract on it less than two weeks later.

Since then we stayed with my mom for a long while, carving out a little corner in her massive home, then eventually migrated north and eventually settled in my in-laws' trailer. I have often had moments where I suddenly stop and my temporary blindness is stripped away. I abruptly see everything clearly and want to ask myself “How did I get here? Since when do I live in a trailer?” and then things continue to unfold in a familiar way and this is just where I sleep, eat, take care of the kiddos – it's where I live, unfortunately.

I try to think of my grandmother, who raised three children in a tiny two-bedroom blockhouse. Or my husband's grandmother who raised seven children in home that may not even be classified as a “house”. We have a roof over our heads, food in our bellies, clothes on our backs. That's all that matters, right?

The plan was to build our dream house on this land. The house we want, the house we've wanted for years, costs too much for us to build. We don't want to settle for something less because once we build it here, well, it's here forever. So we're stuck. We don't WANT to live in a trailer, but we can't afford our dream home.

The solution? Something in between. We signed a contract to buy a house today.

I feel a little breathless.

Innocence

2008-12-04T00:25:00.001-05:00

Tonight we went and bought a tree (I was tempted to chop one down from the land just because I could, but, oh well, am lazy) and we dug out our old Christmas boxes and decorated. It felt more than a little ridiculous, dragging a tree into an already cramped trailer, squeezing it in amongst our over-sized furniture in a tiny space, but as I brought out familiar old ornaments one by one . . . well, it made me a little teary-eyed. The large beaded blue star, and the gold star made of mesh (I always had a thing for stars), then the ornament that Jeff's mom gave us when Faith was just a little red-headed baby – a little strawberry blond angel girl that looks remarkably like Faith, and after that the personalized ornaments: Jeff and Jenny, two bears kissing, a tree that lists Jeff, Jenny and Faith, 2006. Last year – all four of us as a penguin sled-riding crew – for some reason all of these little things touched a sentimental and heartwarming spot making me feel like I was part of something much better than just myself, that I was making traditions.

Of course my babes are just too little. James was interested in immediately pulling down any ornament we had just hung, Faith only concerned with what I was placing so carefully among the limbs, wanting to dismantle what I had done only to do it over herself. I had to remind myself many times, they are just babies still, they won't remember this, the year we lived in the trailer, the Wednesday that we decorated the tree.

:::

We went to Dahlonega tonight, the old gold-mining city of Georgia. We are all settled on top of ancient mines actually, there are some on this very property long since fallen in and forgotten. Dahlonega is a special little city though, full of character, new and familiar at the same time. The trees surrounding the old square are hung with lights, swags laid deep in the tree branches lighting up the historic buildings, catching our imaginations and lighting up our faces as if we were children ourselves.

:::

I love that about Christmas. The fact that something so simple as white lights can seem suddenly so magical and fascinating, how decorating a tree can be something that we can look forward to all year. How I can be mesmerized by sitting in the rocking chair in the dark, staring at the lighted tree, listening to music and feeling just like I did at 26, 22, 16, 9. I want to set that same stage for my children – look around, feel how fantastic this is, family and lights and Christmas, full of wonder and love. I know it sounds a little silly, but I felt it when I was a kid. I don't want mine to be cynical and doubtful of the world. I want them to see the lights and feel the clean and cold air and have that feeling that anything is possible.

December

2008-12-01T23:18:00.001-05:00

I woke up this morning and immediately looked out the window behind our bed, viewing the outside world upside down. The sky was that dark egg color that always makes me think that it looks like snow weather and right at that moment when the thought was working it's way through my still sleepy mind I saw that there was actually snow falling. I flipped myself over to see our yard right side up, a lightly dusted world, still and quiet and cold.

Jeff and I are both having a hard time accepting that it is already December. We've been busy with birthdays and getting with our families for Thanksgiving and errands and groceries and raising children and being alive that we didn't really get to stop and smell the roses (the fallen leaves? What is the proper analogy here?) in November. The down times were spent sick, runny-nosed and sore-throated. Last month was mostly happy moments, peppered with bad news and small plagues. Now it is the time to immerse ourselves in trying to find perfect gifts for everyone, personal yet inexpensive, decorate like eager children, drink egg nog and eat cookies and complain about waistbands getting tighter all while trying to remember the true meaning of the season.

It's already exhausting me.

So, lately. Faith and James both have an aversion to sleeping all night in their own beds. I have grown so accustomed to James waking up every night, because the child still doesn't sleep all night without waking up, that I somehow sleepwalk into his room every night and just bring him back to bed with me. He sleeps fabulous tucked into my side. Faith is now waking up every night and shuffling her way back to our room also, climbing up the trunk at the foot of the bed and making her way to my other side falling back asleep with her head on my shoulder. Now is where I am supposed to say complaints and frustrations, but honestly? It's sweet. Not always comfortable, that's for sure, but I wake up every morning with a smile on my face, no exaggeration. I do feel a sort of failure on my part as a parent, I know that I should be encouraging them to sleep in their own beds but I suppose that I am rather lazy.

It's also that I somehow feel that there isn't so much time to keep up with our little indulgences. December is supposed to be that last month of free time and living it up (ha!) as a stay-at-home mom before I am to dig in my heels and be aggressive in looking for a job. Although who is to say that when that time comes that there will be any jobs up here in the middle of nowhere, it very well could be like it was before. Once again I am at this impasse, not knowing what to hope for, what to dread, so instead I shall just enjoy this carefree month for what it is.

A Little Dark, A Lot Dreary

2008-11-25T22:26:00.001-05:00

I suppose I was hoping that the next time that I wrote here I would have this fabulous news, this life-changing information, but it didn't happen. Financial turns, deals never made, and in the end I am in the same place I started out, but I feel as if I have lost something that I never had in the first place.

:::

This isn't the first time. For the past couple of years, Jeff and I have occasionally hung our hopes on something too high and been disappointed with the inevitable. I am more numb to it now than before, I was halfway expecting the bad news to come and it stings to think that I now expect anticipate the worst. No big deal, onward and upward and swallow the thick before it chokes you.

:::

We've all been sick. First it was me, sore and tired, then James, coughing and leaking thick nasty out of his nose. Jeff is now feeling the beginnings of Something Bad, Faith the only one unscathed so far. No one had been sleeping well and every morning I wake, folded into strange positions between two toddlers, in our thankfully large king bed. Jeff lays sprawled out every morning, seemingly unaware of the three other coughing, dreaming bodies in his bed. The children crowd only me for some reason, perhaps because they know that I'm the one who will wake up when they cry or crawl into bed beside me. It is my arms on which they lay their little round faces, it is me who sleepily walks to the medicine cabinet to fish out the suppressant needed in the wee hours of the morning. It's always me.

:::

Thanksgiving is right around the corner and it already feels off balanced. My nieces and nephews are with their father this year. My mother-in-law has to work. We're having dinners on different days and missing people, as if it were a rehearsal dinner instead of the real thing. I am designated to desserts, like every year, since I am the youngest. With Jeff's family, however, I hold some cooking clout, being the best cook they have in the family. I look forward to making something that actually gets eaten at the table. I'll be happy to see the holiday come and I'll be just as happy to see it go. I wasn't always this way.

:::

It's not a good day, or week, and tomorrow is a new day that will be filled with expensive coffee, pleasant routines, and my two sweethearts. As always I need to see the light in their faces before the dark creeps up around me, deceiving me into thinking things are worse than they are and only hopeless futures await me.

Randoms

2008-11-14T21:32:00.001-05:00

I know that I've already been through this, but it is so bloody bleak and gloomy around here that if I were inclined to be depressed about turning older then I would be in the depths of despair. Luckily, I'm not so . . . I'm not. Instead the kids and I are starting to get a bit of cabin fever. Our car has brake issues and Jeff, for some strange reason, doesn't want to ride his motorcycle in the rain, and the windshield wipers on his mustang have, impressively, been flung off during the last time he drove it. So Jeff is borrowing one of his dad's vehicles and I am seriously stuck here, even more stuck than usual. So we've read and played dolls and I've removed several things from Jamie's tightly gripped hands (toilet brushes, broom, disgusting old crumbs he dug out from under the stove, a cat). We've watched movies and chased each other and argued over whether nap time is really necessary. Faith is still a little under the weather, so I'm trying to have extra patience with her, but there's so much whining and unexpected crying and her telling me that we're not best friends anymore, which really kind of hurts my feelings and then I feel rather pathetic for even thinking that.

In other news, I failed at November's challenge of writing here everyday, so yay, go me. What I have learned from this experience is that I really don't like writing every day when I “have to”. Yesterday, the cats brought a disgusting and mangled dead bird to the front door, freaking Jeff and Faith out horribly when they started to walk outside last night. What I've learned from THAT is, hey, the cats remembered my birthday and were bringing me a gift! I have eaten all of my hummus, yes I did, and then I made the mistake of looking at the nutritional facts and seeing how many calories I had just consumed. What I learned from that . . . well, I'll stop this now because I will just start stating the obvious. Suffice to say that this isn't a very good month for eating well, what with all the birthday cakes and pies and hummus and bagels and what do you know, Thanksgiving right around the corner.

Some random cute things: When asked what my name is, Faith responds “Jenny Soup!” which is much more adorable than my super-country actual name of Jenny Sue. James makes smacking noises, like kissing, but when asked to give us a kiss he grabs ears and lunges forward with a wide open mouth, giving us the most slobbery attacks possible. It's gruesome and endearing at the same time. Faith asks us all the time if we “remember this, mommy? Member that, daddy?” and yes, we always remember, and it is such a joy to see that she remembers too. It's odd, actually, that a just barely three year old can remember so much from a really long time ago. Also, (and this really isn't all that cute but something that makes me think, hey life is really not like it was several years ago) while I've been used to having a bathroom buddy since Faith was a baby, now I have a whole bathroom posse. Today James, Faith, AND both cats went to the bathroom with me. Instead of mourning my long lost right to privacy, I just have to look around me sometimes and think, wow this is really odd but I don't really mind all that much if it means no one is screaming.

Twenty Nine

2008-11-13T16:01:00.001-05:00

It's a dreary day. The sky is completely gray, not dark enough to be ominous, just dark enough to make you feel like staying in bed and reading a book, only you can't stay in bed and read books because you have two toddlers to take care of. It was raining earlier, not raining enough to make music on the roof, but enough to make my straightened hair poof out into waves. It's dark and dismal, we're stuck inside where it's even more gloomy.

Today is my 29th birthday.

I used to think that birthdays were a big deal, something to make as big a fuss about as possible, but now with Jamie's birthday and Faith's being so close and being so recent, it seems a little silly to make a big celebration for me. Jeff bought me bagels and hummus (the way to my heart is through my stomach, aw yee-ahh) (also, I never buy those for myself because my favorite hummus is super expensive and bagels are a weakness of mine I can't allow because of the calories) and a pot of fiery-colored mums. My father-in-law came by to haul off our trash and wished me a happy birthday. The sweetest one I received so far though came from Faith. She crept into our bed sometime in the middle of the night so first thing this morning, she told me “Happy Birthday, Mommy” as if she had been waiting to say it. So my heart melted before I even had my coffee.

I'm so happy for another year of life, and health. This past year has been the most difficult of my life. I feel as if I've aged ten years, and still feel grateful to look into the mirror and see a youthful face with just a few very faint lines and those being smile lines anyway. I'm a little sad that this is going to be the last year of my twenties, and even more sad that I'm not celebrating it with many friends, but the truth is that I just don't have many anymore. I just realized the other day that my former friends, whom I spent every birthday with for more than ten years, never laid eyes on me when I was 28. It hit a note of melancholy that I wasn't expecting.

Enough of that. So here's to making 29 the best age yet, the year that will be filled with laughs and love and family.

Hey, Jealousy

2008-11-10T23:08:00.000-05:00

When people always warned me about jealousy between siblings, I assumed they meant on Faith's part. The day we brought James home, however, set the tone for the next year. She knew we were bringing a baby home and just wanted to hold it and see it and then she was done. There have been a handful of times that she's wanted to sit on my lap when I was holding him or wanted me to feed her food like I did for him, but for the most part she's been extremely generous with giving up her share of our time. She watches out for him, checks up on him, shares her toys, translates (uncannily) what he needs when all he talks is nonsense babble. As a big sister, Faith is awesome.

James, on the other hand, not so much the easygoing sibling. He is never willing to share the attention with Faith. When I hold her on my lap he will go to great and daredevil lengths to wedge himself between us. He'll climb up the backs of chairs just to launch himself over our heads and hopefully into my arms. He'll angrily squeal/whine (oh, that awful noise) when he sees me playing with Faith alone, or when I take something from him to give back to her. The worst of all, though, is the hair pulling. He knows that it's effective, so that is his favorite form of revenge on her. When we hear Faith yelp all of the sudden, we automatically shout for James to let go of his sister's hair.

The hair pulling in turn has resulted in Faith gritting her teeth and doing a awkward arm-swing maneuver that is her way of hitting without really hitting, I suppose. While I don't necessary support her reaction, I can certainly understand it. I feel bad for her most of the time. She never asked for a brother, and she got one anyway, one who dominates our time and attention, one who demands to be held constantly, and what does she get in return? Her hair pulled.
I guess the moral of the story is to keep one's hair in a ponytail as often as possible.

Abandoned

2008-11-09T20:28:00.003-05:00

The weekend is almost over and even though Jeff has a couple more days before he has to return to work, we'll be down at my mom's house, so the chance to do all the things we wanted up here is over. Thankfully, we got a lot done, including dropping the kids off at grandma's so that we could go on a four-wheeler ride.

We have over a hundred acres of forested, mountain, family-owned land. Over all of that we flew, Jeff laughing in the wind, me with my arms clutched tightly around him. Up steep hills, down into ditches, getting caught going over logs, knocking down small trees in our way – all immensely enjoyable, if not a little frightening at times. Some of the time I kept my head down behind Jeff's back with my eyes squeezed shut because of ground-up leaves that had gotten in my face. Other times I leaned back to stare at the incredibly blue sky, vast and spotted with powdery white clouds. We rode past one of Jeff's aunt's house, through her large clearing at the top of the highest part of land, where we caught views of Appalachia stretching out before us. We darted through another aunt's land and eventually wound up at the old abandoned home place, which lies directly behind where we live.

It's where Jeff's great-grandfather lived once. It's been abandoned for decades, the porch has long since fallen off, the windows no longer exist, vines cover all walls and over the roof, creeping into the lone upstairs window. It's beautiful and ghastly, melancholy and somehow touching. Jeff used to show me the old decrepit house back when we used to visit during holidays and I would openly shudder. “Creepy.” I've only dared to go in once before, only staying in there moments before seeing an old shirt hanging in a doorway and then shrieking and fleeing outside. I still attest that it looked like a MAN STANDING THERE and I had to run for my life. Little did I know that one day I would be living just a couple hundred yards away from the spooky old place.

Yesterday, we pulled the four-wheeler up beside it and dared to step inside. I figured the colder weather had driven out the spider (or at least I hoped, FERVENTLY) and was willing to explore. We stepped cautiously through the kitchen, floor littered with dozens of mason jars, an ancient refrigerator and stove still in place. While I started to question Jeff why these old appliances were still in there he had darted over chairs and glass into the next room. It must have been a living room, there was a fireplace, but also an old bed with several mattresses heaped on top. Women's shoes, mostly dressy, were strewn all over the floor over long-ago printed magazines. Jeff wanted to poke in every corner while I wanted to study the items I was finding and finally he led me to the staircase. Which you wouldn't have been able to see unless you were looking for it, since it seems like it was built INSIDE of a wall, tiny narrow steps leading up to the attic. “Uh, no.” I told him, firmly and definitely. After his persuasions I found myself gingerly tip-toeing up the stairs, hoping that they didn't come crashing in and I found myself at head level with the attic floor when I decided I had gone far enough. Jeff, being a mountain goat, trip-tropped along the floor, somehow psychically guessing safe spots to stand. I saw a red dress hanging on a hook from the ceiling, swaying in the breeze from the open window, strangely still intact after decades of being left to the elements. I begged Jeff to grab the dress, he would not, proclaiming it was not ours (the old house is technically on his uncle's land) and I told him that I truly doubted anyone cared since they were leaving the house to fall in. On his way over to retrieve the dress he said he found words written on a beam up there. “Held? . . . uh . . oh, it says help me,” he said distractedly working his way back to the stairs. I stopped in my tracks. “What did you just say?” I asked him. He worked his way down the steps getting himself and me halfway through the house. “It said 'help me',” he repeated and I flew the rest of the house outside to the safety of the four-wheeler.

Scary.
But I still want that red dress. I don't care if it's haunted.

Scenes from a Fall Day

2008-11-08T20:28:00.004-05:00

Watch.

Play.

Attack.

Siblings

2008-11-07T20:57:00.000-05:00

Sometimes, when my mother is off on one of her seemingly endless trips to Savannah to visit her family, my sister and I end up calling each other more - perhaps to make up for the non-existent daily phone calls we each have with Mom. Or, when my sister has a rough day at work with Dad (yes, they work together amazingly) she'll call me afterwards, fuming or frustrated, venting to the one person who she knows can understand. When our parents drive us crazy, we go to each other first, not looking for answers, but just to commiserate.

It's one of the many reasons why I'm so glad I have her. As an adult I'm so glad that I'm not an only child. During holidays or birthdays, when all of our family is together, we'll sometimes start funny stories about some horrendous thing Dad said or some outrageous thing Mom had done. I worry about my parents' health and I know that when the dreaded day comes, as it inevitably will, my sister will be standing beside me, holding my hand. In the times of supreme happiness or unbearable grief, we have each other.

Tonight, I pretended to drink Jamie's milk, upturning the cup over my face and making loud noises accompanied by silly faces. Both kids started cracking up and then, instead of just watching me and laughing, they turned to each other and their eyes crinkled up even more, and all of the sudden they just had a moment. It was caused by me, but it didn't include me. It was as if they said to each other “hey, isn't Mommy funny?” without using any words at all.

I suppose it just occurred to me that parenthood isn't all about me, or my individual kids and what I can give to each of them, or even all together as a family. They have each other, like I've had my sister. They'll have each other to turn to, to call or email, about whatever horrible trauma I've caused them. They'll have each other to finish amusing stories at Christmas about how I used to embarrass them, or how Jeff had whatever strange hobby that kept his attention. Whenever Jeff and I go, hopefully a very long time from now, they'll have each other's hands to hold.

Deep thoughts, man. Now I'm off to contemplate Dark Side of the Moon. (not really.)

Trying, Not Puking

2008-11-06T22:32:00.002-05:00

Today was the first (half) day of Jeff's many days off in a row. So, that means we will be getting so much done! We'll start cleaning out Grandma's house, we'll backup all the pictures on our computer, we'll go on dates, we'll take kids to the park, we'll visit with both sets of families! Actually, I can tell you right now that we'll be lucky to get just one of those things done. We rather suck when it comes to following through with our well-planned intentions. We're really quite lazy.

Although we DID go to Brasstown Bald today, just because. It's the highest point in Georgia with spectacular views, and it's just around the corner from where we live. We headed out the door a happy family of four going on an adventure and came back in as two cranky and sleepy kids, a highly nauseated wife and a daddy who was JUST FINE because he was in the driver's seat. I learned that wearily saying “Barf.” won't get you too much sympathy, only a suggestion to roll down your window and stick your head out of the car to force the fresh air into your face at 50 miles per hour. It doesn't work.

The leaves up here are amazing and brilliant in deep golds and rusty oranges. This week has been the most gorgeous yet, a little late, but surprisingly beautiful. This is the first year that I've spent an autumn in the mountains, and when there are forested mountains all around , the leaves fall slowly and continually like a slow snow. There are thousands of crunchy leaves on our driveway, in the yard, in mounds that That New Cat likes to burrow in. I'll be sad when the trees are barren and bleak and motionless. Blah, Winter.

News

2008-11-05T22:11:00.002-05:00

Today was a good day. The kids and I went for a drive with windows down and music loud. I looked in the rear view mirror to see them each doing their own versions of head banging. Faith started asking for her “present mail”. I quickly glanced behind my seat to try to identify what she was pointing at. “What?” I asked, trying to drive a straight line. “My present mail, Mommy! Yes, that!” she happily confirmed when I picked up a birthday card her aunt had given her. Birthday card = present mail. Cute. It kept a smile on my face for a very long time.

:::

I knew my in-laws must be going through a hard time, what with my little sis-in-law and all. I decided to make them muffins to cheer them up and give them comfort. All of them. Even Miss Trouble herself. Faith stood on a chair beside me and helped me with the process. James, of course, climbed up beside her and only fell off once so I feel like that was a success in itself. We had fun baking, the three of us. Jeff came home and I told him we had to hurry next door to deliver the goodies while they were warm, so off we trekked, up the long driveway. It was too silent when we walked in. We found Jeff's dad downstairs, angrily working on his basement, building shelves in frustrated silence. Jeff's mother and sister were not there. Another twist in the the plot. More bad news. Very bad news. We left the muffins on the counter and drove home.

Waiting, Wondering, Hoping

2008-11-04T20:15:00.000-05:00

So. It's the fourth of the month and all, but is it to late to do that thing? That nononano, noblomofosho, whatever. You know. Where you HAVE to write everyday, lest you be spontaneously imploded or some other most unpleasant misfortune? Okay, then I'm doing it! I know that I am only setting myself up for failure (Wow, the former optimist that used to be me would be highly displeased with that comment) but I must try. It's probably going to come out as some strange stream of consciousness thing that made my high school journals very strange and hard to understand. Good luck!

Right now Faith is asleep in her bed, hair still in braids. She fell asleep next door, curled up in Papaw's armchair. James is behind me on the couch feeding himself a bottle. Jeff is outside, escaping the world for a few moments of privacy and cold, fresh air. I am writing (but you didn't need me to tell you that, did you?) and watching CNN.

I've never been this excited about an election. This morning I actually woke up feeling a little giddy, like on the first day of school or actually more like when you have that ultrasound appointment that tells you what gender your unborn child is. All of the sudden everything that you presumed or made tentative plans around suddenly falls into place.

This election day will remain forever in my mind though for another reason. My sister-in-law, notorious for being a consistent and problematic troublemaker, just dropped a bomb on us all. I can't get it out of my head. I don't want to go more into it right now, just in case one day I'll actually tell my family that I have this little hobby here and they suddenly find out that I'm writing all of their secrets. But imagine, shocked silence after unexpected words and a hasty exit from Jeff and I.

So. Here I sit, wondering about our nation, wondering about my little-sis-in-law.

Three Years

2008-11-03T23:22:00.002-05:00

We're finally getting back into our normal groove after the past few days. There was Halloween, which was spent at my sister's, and then Faith's birthday was yesterday and we actually had a real party for her (poor James, he will feel like the un-favorite) (making up words here). I'm glad that the kids get to enjoy all these festive times spent with cousins and such, but truthfully I am sort of glad it's over with. I just wasn't very prepared this year, not like I had thought I would be, so everything felt harried and it just seems like I haven't been my very best lately.

However, seeing Faith with her little cheap plastic tiara, smiling at the large crowd gathered around singing for her, in front of the cake bought just for her, just makes my heart warm and all aflutter. I am so unbelievably proud of her, proud that she is mine. She's my little strawberry-blond fairy of a child, blue eyes that cut at me when she's saying something surprisingly clever, a teddy-bear face that bursts into grins and giggles at the slightest provocation. I love showing her off, telling her accomplishments or the cute things she says. It's wonderful to see the pride that her grandparents take in her. At the party, all the adults stood in a circle talking of this cute thing that Faith did or that funny thing that she said. My mother tells me that sometimes I forget just how good of a child she really is, or how she's the easiest out of all five of her grandkids to take care of.

I do know this; this past year has been made immeasurably better because of her. My darkest days have been brightened by her presence, my tears turned to laughter because of her attempts of uplifting conversation. I remember the day that she jumped with both feet at the same time, on the sunny front porch of my in-laws brand new house. I think of how easy potty-training was, one day I just stopped using diapers, and she got it. She understood what she was supposed to do and she did it. She is a child of memory, she has learned an order to things that I know I haven't instilled in her, and she is diligent in preserving this. She remembers things said between Jeff and I weeks ago (which makes me realize I have to be VERY careful of what we say around her). She loves imagination games, loves girly toys, loves making her barbies dance with the one “prince” doll (beach Ken with scary hair). She runs outside at every opportunity, sneaks cats in whenever she can, and tries to reason her way out of everything.

Faith has a short temper, always has, and shows fiery explosions of anger. She loses her patience quickly, like her father, and gets worked up into a furious fit before I can calm her down. She has also has, thankfully, a sweet side that makes the fury all worth while. Every morning, no matter who wakes up first or what stage of the morning routine we are in, we have to cuddle. I have to stop whatever I'm doing and grab her and snuggle down into the down comforter and ask her about her dreams (strawberry shortcake band aids, unicorns, cake, That Calico Cat) and smell in her curly hair that always holds the scent of her shampoo. I'm always scared that one morning she won't want to cuddle anymore, that she will reach that age where affection from her mommy is no longer something of importance.

I can't believe she is three years old. It still seems like she should be my tiny baby, swimming in newborn clothes too big for her. I still catch glimpses of that, especially when she sleeps all long-lashed and rosebud mouth relaxed in peaceful slumber. I can't wait to see the person she becomes and at the same time want to keep her my tiny girl for as long as I can.

Funk on an Upswing

2008-10-30T22:29:00.002-04:00

Forgive me if I am about to complain too much.

It could be that Faith didn't go to bed last night until after 1:00 for some mysterious reason. Then James woke up an hour later and when I sleepily felt of his skin I realized he was warm. He was running a fever and didn't feel well, he just wanted to lay on me as I rocked him. I gave him some baby motrin, a bottle, and my chest to lay tiredly on as we watched some middle-of-the-night television. Jeff, who wakes up at 4:00 every morning, found us on the couch and encouraged me to go back to bed. I couldn't fall asleep for another hour after that, though I was exhausted.

Or maybe I'm not in that great of a mood because after turning around my eating habits I've completely fallen off of the wagon. As my friend Mandie would say, I've fallen off the wagon and it has run over me. With Jamie's birthday and then Faith's less than two weeks later and then my own following hers less than two weeks again I sort of gave up on the idea that I could do autumn healthily so I've stopped trying and now I feel my pants fitting tighter, but you know what? Maybe I should lay off the popcorn at 9:30 at night. I know better. I KNOW BETTER. That's what bugs me the most, the backsliding.

It could be the lack of money. It could be that when I do feel inspired to find a job (even though Jeff and I decided that I should wait until after the first of the year) there is nothing, I mean NOTHING, around here. It could be that going away for the weekend without the kids was so enjoyable that now that I'm back to the whining and diapers and constant meal making and nap times that don't seem to happen that I'm disappointed. It could be that I'm disappointed for being disappointed, because that makes me a crappy mother. It could be that I didn't wash my face or brush my hair until after noon today, instead I just crept around here in my over sized sweater clutching a coffee mug, even though I will freely admit that I had the time, I just chose to not do it.

Blah. I am depressing myself.

Whenever I have days like this, a little funk that comes and goes, I always try to cover it up. I don't want Jeff to know because my bad moods drag him quickly down and then it becomes a Big Thing. I'm afraid he'll think it's something more than it is, so I try to fake happiness then I become resentful and boohoo, I just want to lay face down on the bed and tune the world out. Instead I held Faith close for awhile while James fake-cried to get to us and Faith, in some strange perceptive way, turned to look at me as if it were the first time she had really seen me all day and reached out and patted me, then turned away. And then it was as if a switch had been flipped. I splashed water on my face, combed my hair, and did laundry, washed dishes, made lists, held kids, and just started moving and feeling alive and normal again.

So maybe I am a crappy mother, but I have wonderful kids and they balance out everything.

Back Again and In Denial

2008-10-28T22:01:00.000-04:00

Yesterday Jeff and I returned from a long weekend camping trip that was taken without the children. It was romantic, it was indulgent (as much as sitting in the woods for three days can be indulgent), and being without responsibility was almost intoxicating, making us giddy for no reason at all. We ate when we wanted to, took walks when we wanted, I read actual chapters on end with no interruptions and I even took a long fantasized about nap. When I wasn't stuffing my face or absorbed in a book, I stared at the campfire, one of my very favorite things to do in the world. I love to pull up a camp chair and settle down and just stare at the flames and let all thoughts speed out of my head, or maybe swirl around in a nonsensical way that is peaceful and soothing.

We took walks through the woods and along trails, the views where we camped were spectacular. The ground was covered in shades of bronze, gold, and burnt orange with the odd light green mixed in. We crunched through dry areas and I slid through the wet ones, glad that the path was so narrow that Jeff couldn't see my face at my near falls. We briefly entertained the idea of coming back out at night with a flashlight but decided that the chance of running into a spider-snake (the combination of each of our biggest fears) was just too horrifying to bear.

As much as we enjoyed ourselves, there was still that nagging, small voice in me that wanted to call and check on the kids constantly. “No one can take care of them like I can,” I reminded myself too often. Or I would bring up cute things they've done lately, things I'm sure I've already told Jeff about dozens of times, but he would still smile or laugh and then we would be quiet for a few minutes missing our babies like crazy.

Of course, they were fine. Jeff's sister did crafts with them (I felt like a failure when I saw that it IS possible to do crafts with toddlers, but now I've got flare for my fridge) and they ate well, slept well, behaved well, no accidents, no new bruises. It was a success. A success I'm sure my whole in-law family is glad is over.

Now this week has already started and Halloween is this week (I have no costume for James), Faith's birthday is Sunday (I'm still in sugar shock from Jamie's cake and have no presents, NOTHING), and Jeff has got days and days of work ahead of him. So I'm going to go to bed now, and pretend I'm still in la-la land of no responsibility and go read until I fall asleep and the book hits me in the face.

Un-parties and The Plots Against Me

2008-10-23T00:05:00.007-04:00

There are many reasons that living out in the middle of nowhere can be amazing. For instance, this past weekend Jeff and I left the kids with their grandma while we went riding around in tiny neighboring towns and as we drove through a little farming valley I was struck by how absolutely beautiful everything was. It was like a scene from a movie or a postcard. It was sunk down in a valley, with tree-filled mountains rising on each side, the leaves had begun to turn, the rail fencing lined peaceful rolling pastures that housed old red barns, the road curved lazily as giant oaks leaned over the street, sigh, it was so soothing to see and this is everywhere up here, a picturesque scene in our backyard.

However, I couldn't find any place in a twenty mile radius that sold party hats.

:::

Jamie's party was last night, held too late, with too few people and the only ones actually there during the whole lit candle singing part didn't actually SING, except for Jeff and I. Which was . . . awkward to say the least. It made me wish we had just stayed home, but oh well it was only next door and I would have felt slightly anti-social to have stayed home. Someday I will just accept the fact that I kind of AM anti-social.

I made a cake. It wasn't store-bought-pretty or anything, but it was really good and I just ate some and oh look at that, it's 11:45 at night.

So tempting.

James was good last night, waiting patiently until we finally let him dig into the cake and then he thoughtfully perused the toys that Faith viciously unwrapped for him. He got some firetruck thing that plays a little song that has already embedded itself into my memory and I keep hearing the sing-song tune and of course that's his favorite toy NOT the old-fashioned wooden ones that I tracked down and bought him. Those are already pushed to the side, positioned perhaps deliberately so that I will keep stepping on them and momentarily wishing that I still cursed the way I used to.

THEN today James climbed up on top of a counter, like Spider-Baby, and gleefully threw down my glass pumpkin which shattered into millions of shards on the kitchen floor. I yelled for Faith NOT to come in there (which, so stupid, I should have known that if I hadn't of said anything then she would have stayed happily in her room) so immediately she runs in asking “Why Mommy? What did James do? Why I can't be in here? Why? Why?” and I tried to keep them away as I swept up the tiny pieces and got three splinters of glass in the bottom of my foot. All the while, still not cursing. I deserve some sort of medal.

However, he's really cute. So, that counts for something.

James Stone - One Year

2008-10-20T13:34:00.001-04:00

Continuing on this theme . . .

One year ago today I woke up with contractions, finally. Waiting around to go into full labor, and never doing so, Jeff and eventually went and got sandwiches. The man taking our order asked me when I was due and I still smile at the look on his face when I replied “Three days ago”. Then went back to my mother's house and we both took a nap for a couple hours.

We woke up that evening and the contractions were back but no one was taking it seriously anymore. My sister's ex had her kids for the night and she was planning on going out but had stopped by for awhile. My dad wanted me to show her some video of a high school football player on my laptop and while we were watching the contractions suddenly became more intense. I stayed silent with my dad on one side of me and my sister on the other side and when my sister cracked some comment about how I was going to be pregnant forever I told her no, I didn't think it would be long at all and told my mother to go ahead and curl her hair (my mother's hair has to be curled for every occasion).

I tried writing the times down, but my labor was following no sort of pattern whatsoever. I went into the back room to start getting things together for the hospital and it was getting late, almost time for Faith to go to bed so Jeff took her to go lay down and I was dimly aware that this was the last time I would see her as my only child and I knew that I should make this moment more special somehow, but my body was starting freak me out a little bit. Contractions came sporadically – two minutes then five then back to back, all the while becoming more intense. Jeff came back a little while later and watched as I doubled over holding onto the edge of the couch. When I straightened back up the look in his eyes held everything, concern and alarm and a question. “Yes,” I told him, “I'm calling the midwife now”.

I went into the hospital a few minutes later and was in extreme pain by this time. I remembered how contractions worked, coming in waves, peaking, and then easing back out. For some reason, however, mine stayed peaked for too long, I didn't recognize this intensity and it scared me. I didn't know how long I had, if I would be able to get my epidural in time, wishing they could just hurry me past triage because I was obviously in labor.

They moved me to a room at last and hooked me up to an IV. At that point everything seemed to move quickly, nurses coming in and out, my midwife trying to encourage me through contractions while promising me pain relief soon. I started to feel frantic when the contractions began but seemed to never end. I told Jeff to not let any of my family in while I was in pain like this. They came to insert the needle for the epidural and I tried not to move through contractions and waited for relief that seemed to never fully come. The IV felt like it was filling my body with ice water and I alternated between having contractions and shaking uncontrollably in between. Then, suddenly, they told me it was time to push. Jeff ran to get his mother, my mother, and my sister, the baby watching crew. The hospital room was not designed for many people and instead of them being able to stand back and not have to witness explicit delivery action, they had to stand near the foot of the bed. I remember wishing that they could stand somewhere else, but I really no longer cared at that point. I feebly asked the nurse if I could push the button for more epidural and she told me it would do me no good at that point, so I just tried to remain stoic.

The midwife told Jeff to stand beside me and I hoped he wouldn't pass out. He stayed way behind my head when Faith was born and I didn't think he could handle it. Actually, when James made his appearance the midwife took her attention off of the most pressing matters at hand to ask Jeff if he would be okay since he did a major jump-type of move. She told me to grab my baby so I reached down and pulled him to my belly.

I could sit here for hours staring out the door trying to think of the words to describe that moment and I would never be able to. To hold the child that was on the other side of my belly just moments before, to be able to look at his face, to see that everything was well, no, better than well, just perfect, was beyond amazing. I teared up, continuing to cry (and still shake) after they whisked him off. I kept looking at him and back to Jeff, my sister and mother and I kept saying “Isn't he beautiful? He is really so beautiful!” and they told me yes, he was.

He was actually born after midnight so his birthday isn't really until tomorrow, but that day leading up to his birth is etched upon my memory. Such a strange feeling to not be able to wait until you can see your child, but almost regret the end of a pregnancy, especially when you're not completely sure that you will have another one.

Once he was here though, I was in a constant state of wonder. I had forgotten how tiny babies could be. I had forgotten the non-stop all through the night care that they required. I had forgotten how I could spend hours staring at that brand new little face.

Since the moment I had found out I was pregnant with him everything suddenly became a comparison of the past – my pregnancy with Faith, how I found out, the due date, the birth, how he developed compared to her, their ages when they reached milestones and so forth. After awhile though, he wouldn't let me make the constant comparisons because he proved that he is his own person, he is James, full of a personality that is so HIM, his own way of learning things and his own method of experiencing life.

I have watched him for this past year, going from that tiny newborn to such a little character. He is incredibly loving and affectionate. He climbs everything he can, frightening me everyday with his death defying stunts. He is walking, more like Frankenstein's monster than a child, but he slowly lurches around getting to where he needs to be. He has slept through the night only once in the past year, keeping me hoping for a repeat of the miracle but only to wake me up every night at midnight. He wants to be held, wants to see my face, wants to be near me always. He won't let anyone else take him from me, howls when I walk away. He's chubby, has comical hair, bright blue eyes, soft skin, and gives slobbery kisses. He's my heart and I can't imagine that there was a time before James.

Last Year

2008-10-15T12:33:00.002-04:00

One year ago . . .

My due date was drawing closer with no sign of impending labor whatsoever. A usually happy pregnant woman, I was nearing that feeling that I could not possibly get any larger. I was walking every day and night, eating spicy foods, doing as many of the infamous labor starters that I could bear.

I was ready to stop being pregnant, but I was also trying to remember every moment of it. Most of all I was ready to meet my son.

Lately, In Pictures

2008-10-10T18:39:00.010-04:00

I really do have a camera. I just never do the whole camera-to-computer thing. When I finally do I have hundreds of pictures to sort through. I good intentions with this little blog. I thought I would have pictures in every post, that sort of thing. Let's pretend I did that, shall we? And now for catch up.

This is my artist's rendering of our cat, Chick. And then this is her.

Uncanny, no?

The new cat whose name has yet to be set in stone. Right now we rotate between Tiger Lily, Clover, That Calico Cat, That New Cat, or That Little Cat.

The famous "Letter Game" which Faith loves. Any time I get on the computer she starts to beg to play it. James, of course, does not want to be left out. So once I start it I can't stop it, my lap begins to burn from the laptop and I have children surrounding me and it kind of makes me never want to get on the computer.

Taking a walk over to Grandma's, with our giant dog Baxter. For some reason Faith is crawling like a dog. I'm surprised she didn't get accidentally trampled.

And for the finale, the classic reaching-for-the-camera shot. I can't tell you how many of these I have. And yes, my children are color coordinated for church. I can't help it.

I suppose it is time for me to finally put a picture with my blogger account, which is really rather hard. Today I was sorting through recent pictures and realizing I look OLD. With real lines around my eyes. I was tempted to use a more flattering picture from a couple years ago but that sort of feels like cheating.

This Season, Still

2008-10-09T12:55:00.003-04:00

The days have gone from a warm, thick heaviness of air to a goose bump-raising chill. The leaves are starting to turn, the wind is whistling through foggy days. On nice days the sky is a crisp and clear blue, the air fresh, the sun still shines. For the past couple of days, however, it is like the setting for a scary mystery movie. It’s been a constant drizzle of rain, the sky never lightens from a deep slate color.

It’s starting to throw me off. Usually the first thing I do every morning is open the windows and doors and let the light in. It’s not doing much lately. I’m starting to feel like a hermit.

Luckily, the kids have hit a patch of awesome lately. Faith’s age combined with a new phase of less tantrums and more understanding is adorable and sort of amazing. She is starting to try to figure things out, why this happens or what to expect from people. She’s smart and clever. She comes out with the most precious things. She says “thank you” and “please”. She gives everyone kisses and hugs when she says goodbye without prompting from us. Right now as I am typing this she is stripping on the front porch while watching a “sick butterfly” (it’s like the scariest moth I’ve ever seen and it’s turning slow circles on the porch floor in a slow death dance), so I’m not sure how that ties into her learning manners and such, but there you go. When James isn’t climbing to the highest point in the house and balancing precariously on a countertop or dresser he’s playing with toy cars and building blocks. He’s starting to entertain himself or let Faith entertain him. They both love the kitten and he’s now saying “kitty” (more like kee-kee) which is his second word (the first is bye-bye). They are consistently happy children and it not only warms my heart but keeps a smile on my face as well.

This year we look forward to taking Faith to pumpkin patches and corn mazes, this year she is already talking about costumes and jack o’ lanterns, how ghosts are NOT real but ARE really scary. This year we’ll also take our children (plural!) out to hikes to warm our bodies on Jeff’s days off, we’ll take pictures of them together smiling and happy. I can actually be in the autumn pictures since I won’t weigh forty tons like last year.

Jeff’s about to be off of work for a week (this schedule is wonky, but I love it when he’s off) and we have so much planned that we will undoubtedly fall short of all we have to do, but I’m looking forward to the next week like a little kid would. I suppose I’m excited because I’m about to see autumn through Faith’s eyes.

Damnimals

2008-10-07T12:34:00.001-04:00

The other day I opened the front door and hollered for Jeff (because I live in the mountains and we holler, we don’t just yell) and Faith told me that he was down in the yard saying “here kitty kitty”.

While I think it is adorable how Faith can give accurate details about what is going on, I was more perplexed as to WHY Jeff was saying here kitty kitty when our cat (Chick the Cat, fat and white) was laying on her side at my feet like the big, lazy thing that she is. I went back inside to tend to whatever I was doing and forgot about it until a few minutes later when Jeff called me outside telling me to look what he had. In his arms was a calico kitten. I immediately switched baby for kitten (I am a sucker for kittens and puppies) and went to the rocker and declared that this kitten was sent to us for a reason. I expected Jeff to roll his eyes and maintain his firm position on his NO MORE BABIES NO MORE ANIMALS rule, but instead he just looked thoughtful for a moment and said that we would need to get her fixed soon.

In turn I just stared at him, my mouth might have been hanging open. Was this . . . my husband? Surely not. Was this a trick? Possible. But why? I was trying to figure this out as Faith squealed and laughed, delighted with this new toy, I mean creature, and I soon got distracted by setting up a makeshift home for it in our garage.

Jeff continued to be very easygoing about the whole cat thing, petting it as he went by or calling it kitty boots, which is his own little name for cats and I continued to be amazed and a little suspicious. Jeff was all for animals once, but more of a dog person and only really excited about getting our great dane as a puppy. The rest of the animals were sort of an act of surrender, his giving in to my endless begging with an air of resignation. We both came to the decision after having kids, however, that we just didn’t have the room, the finances, and the time for extra responsibility for any more animals. But seeing a helpless little kitten melted away all of my icy level-headedness, and I really didn’t expect Jeff to be the same.

When I talked to my mom about it she said something that made me think. “Maybe he realizes that your days are monotonous and he’s letting you have something that makes you happy and takes your mind off of it,” and I was really surprised. That my mother would put that together without me even telling her what’s been going on lately and that I didn’t think of it and that Jeff would do something sweet for the benefit of me.

Even though it means vet bills and another animal to take care of, it’s such a simple pleasure to watch a kitten do that butt-wiggle and pounce thing, all things playful and joyful attack. It reminds me that little bursts of happiness are found in the most ordinary places.

Time Away

2008-10-05T13:01:00.000-04:00

I will be the first to admit that I’ve really got it made. I get to stay at home every day, I don’t have to wake up in a rush every morning and fight traffic just to go and spend my whole day at work. I can do what I want whenever I want and I pretty much love this.

However, two kids may not always want to do what I want, like when what I want is to go to Target and wander the aisles aimlessly for a couple of hours in silence. The children probably clap their little chubby hands with glee at the thought of making a shopping trip turn into their opportunity to shriek and scream and reach for breakable objects and pull hair and push each other and so the mere thought of doing something like that becomes a big, neon, flashing NO sign in my brain. So I don’t go out too often is what I’m saying.

Then I began to fantasize about small things. Reading a book in peace, or going out for a warm pumpkin spiced coffee and sitting at a table staring off into space, or sitting in a bookstore for an hour browsing novels and getting inspired. To take a walk, or go to a random store, or anywhere for that matter all alone. Let me say that again. ALL ALONE.

The story is always the same, though. Jeff works long hours and is exhausted when he gets home. We live out in the middle of nowhere so even if I wanted to escape for an hour, it would be another two hours to get somewhere and back. We don’t have the money to drop on expensive coffee or shopping. We don’t have the money for gas even. So my fantasies often stayed that way and never became reality and one day would end and another would begin and slowly I began to go a little bit crazy and maybe get a little depressed.

I mentioned it to Jeff awhile ago and instead of him saying something like “you know what honey, you always stay here with the kids and never go out and do something you would like to do so go ahead and enjoy yourself and I’ll stay with the kids” he said something like this “that’s not going to happen” and then I fumed and it turned into a stupid argument (because I don’t know how serious he was in the first place and I was in a bad mood already) and then it grew and I did the idiotic martyr move of “well fine I’ll just stay at home every day and never leave the house”. Well that sure showed HIM! I’ll just stay at home every day and never get time to myself! Oh. Wait.

Last week my husband said the words I needed so badly to hear. “You go ahead and take the car and spend the day doing what you want and I’ll stay here with the kids. Have fun,” and I grabbed the keys and sprinted towards the car and listened to my music and drove a little crazier than usual and suddenly I felt a million times better.

Once upon a time, before I became a wife and a mother, I was just Jenny. I had my own hobbies and interests. I liked to have time alone even before I was married. I liked my privacy and the occasional solitude. Now if anyone were to ask me to tell them about myself I would first say that I am a wife and mother, and truthfully those are the things that I am most proud to be. Once in a while though, it’s nice to be just Jenny again. A day alone here and there to just be me, and not everything else, is a salve to wounds that I don’t often realize that I have, and an opportunity to feel refreshed and relaxed. A chance to just BE without having to always DO. It’s also a chance to drive eagerly home to see the faces of the people I love most who are happy to see me return.

Quick Thinking - FAIL

2008-10-01T14:13:00.000-04:00

“Ew, James! I smell the stank!” I announce. (I often announce things, like dirty diapers, or how I am now going to do a load of laundry when the children are the only other people in the house. I don’t know why I declare things like this out of nowhere. I can’t help it. I often break into song for no reason at all. It can be very loud to live with me.)

(People wouldn’t know this unless they are Jeff. I am really shy around everyone else.)

“I wanna see! I wanna see!” Faith screams as she runs into the room. (Faith has an odd obsession for wanting to be present during dirty diaper changes. It’s really rather disturbing.)

“You don’t want to see this,” I say. (I tell her this every time.)

“I gonna watch you, Mommy, okay?” (She says this as if she is explaining something to a very young child.)

“If you have to,” I tell her absently as I’m already starting the disgusting job of wiping slimy foul matter off of Jamie’s tiny rear.

“Mommy. What’s THAT?” (She is pointing to Jamie’s special parts.)

“His poopoo?” I say to buy some time as I hurry up the process.

“No, Mommy! THAT right there!”

“Oh you mean his pee pee?” (Yeah, pee pee. Code for the real word. I’ve heard other parents use that. Sure. Okay. This will work.)

“No, that’s not pee pee,” she sounds exasperated at my stupidity. (Of course! Because everyone knows that pee pee is urine, NOT a body part.)

“Damn.” I don’t say this out loud. Instead I say, “uhhh,” like the intelligent and quick thinking person I am.

“Uhhh,” I continue. (Do I give her the true technical term? I suddenly have a vision of her announcing what the names of Jamie’s parts are in church. No. I can’t tell her the true name. Must come up with toddler slang.)

“Umm,” I stall. (I don’t want to confuse the child. I imagine her saying that’s not a ball or that’s not a nut. Why can’t I think? I am the parent, why am I suddenly stumped by something so stupid? What the hell am I going to say when she asks where babies come from?)

“Mommy look! Clifford the dog is on!” she exclaims happily as she runs off.

I breathe a sigh of relief and look down at James who has been staring confusedly at me this whole time. “Ummm!” he suddenly says.

Great. Glad I’ve taught you something wise, son.

Autumn of Discontent

2008-09-23T17:47:00.002-04:00

It is now officially autumn.

Of all the seasons, I love spring the best. Or maybe summer. I love how the world comes alive again in the spring, I love to see green again. However, in summertime there’s something sensual about the heaviness in the air, the way skin remains damp no matter what time of day it is, the fireflies that hover in multitudes in between trees in the dusk.

Fall, though, is special. There is the sense of expectancy that I’ve written about. Sometimes it is ominous and foreboding. Sometimes it is hopeful and eager, filled with plans and the knowledge of time spent well. It is often mysterious and is the perfect time of year to ponder Great Things.

The girl who was my best friend for years absolutely loved this time of year. She enthusiastically decorated her house with fall and Halloween paraphernalia. We often went on long drives down deserted dirt roads or over ancient bridges at night just to freak ourselves out. She sent emails on the first day of fall declaring her love for it all over again. It was well known that fall was her time. I could not, and still can’t, pass a place that is filled with the rusty colors of autumn without thinking of her. I pass by salt and pepper shakers in the shapes of fallen leaves and think how perfect they would be for her. I wonder what her house looks like, I wonder if she’s breaking out all of her sweaters, I wonder if she’s planned any trips to the corn maze or pumpkin fields.

I miss her so badly. I think of her every day. I wish I could pick up the phone and call her and just listen to her talk for hours, to catch me up on the past year of her life. I wish I could send her a card saying that I am thinking of her, or just to tell her that she’s in everything I see around me this time of year.

I can’t.

The hardest thing in the world I’ve had to ever do is see the hurt and pain that the people I love most in the world experience because of me. To know that they could have not had to suffer it if I had been different, if I had made different choices, or even if I had never been in their lives. To think that I am remembered by someone who I truly love as a big waste of time or the most horrible time of their lives absolutely kills me. After a year it is not any easier. I still miss her. And I can not tell her that I do. Her life is better off without me.

I don’t know why on earth I am writing this and then putting it on the internet for goodness sake. I wanted to write here honestly and without holds on myself, and so I do. So, world, I miss my best friend from the depths of my heart and I wonder if it will ever let up.

Peculiar

2008-09-16T22:42:00.000-04:00

Ever since I quit work and stayed at home to be a stay at home parent my inner mind clock sputters and stops. I often lose track of days, my sleep schedule hasn’t been normal in years and usually the only way I can stay on track is by trying to follow Jeff’s schedule. This past week he began a new one however, and it is totally screwing with me. He works three days on, then a day off, then three more days on and then a week off. The past week was his off week and it has been completely strange, but good, to have him here with us day after day. We stayed busy and much has happened and I don’t even know if I should try to bother putting it all down in words. There have been trips to the emergency room, trips to Target, arrests, home projects on OTHER people’s homes, and I made a huge amount of salsa today. I am aware that my story telling and explaining lacks quite a lot, but all is well with everyone, it’s just been another week living close to many family members.

Today was the first cool day that we’ve experienced, sort of strange in an overcast way, never quite raining but making you feel like you need to stay inside. I didn’t though, I walked outside as much as I could today and felt like I could spend hours outside. I tried to absorb as much of that expectant autumn feeling as I could, with just my thoughts and myself.

Every year at this time I have that feeling that something is right around the corner. Last year the upcoming fall meant the birth of James. The year before that we were selling our house and moving across the state, the year before that was the autumn when Faith was born. However, this year doesn’t seem to hold anything big or important just ahead and that’s what makes this year feel odd and makes me feel like I’m ill equipped for the task at hand. I’m not quite sure what I’ve been expecting but knowing that it’s not going to come feels lonely and a bit sad.

I sound a little too melancholy for my own good.

On a lighter note, Faith has informed us that zebras do NOT make the neigh sound that horses make but instead they make “ZEE ZEE” sounds. Jeff and I found that fairly awesome. James continues to be impossibly needy and poops way more than any child should.

On Staying At Home

2008-09-08T22:40:00.002-04:00

I stay at home, all day, every day. Most days I have no car. Almost every day I have no money to spend on anything besides groceries. So, almost all of our time is spent at home.

*****************

I get to see the sun rise up slowly over the mountains every morning. I get to see the leaves on the big tree in the front yard become illuminated from behind with the gold glow of the morning. I hear the rumbles of the motorcycles that are on their way to Blood Mountain, and the crunch of tires on the rock driveway when my father in law returns from an errand. I watch the dogs run in the backyard and see the cat turn in a circle upside down before her eyes close in tight slits for a nap. I’m here waiting when Jeff comes home for lunch and when he comes home at the end of the day.

*****************

I am not only the primary caregiver to the children but almost to the point of being the only one. When Jeff gets home he is tired from working so hard all day and he almost always has a chore that needs to be done before bedtime. I don’t get time to exercise. I don’t get time to take long bubble baths. I don’t ever get to leave in the evenings and drive to a bookstore and spend a precious couple of hours perusing through books. I make every meal for the kids, change all of Jamie’s diapers, attend all of Faith’s urgent potty times, give the baths, wipe the hands, wrestle dangerous tiny objects from Jamie’s grasp, try to rationalize with Faith about everything, struggle with naptimes, rush to every cry, and the only time I can shower or read at my own leisure is after they have gone to sleep and usually by that time I am exhausted.

******************

I am the one who spends my days on the floor playing dolls or building blocks or reading books. I am the one who dances in the living room with the kids or makes monster sounds and chases Faith through every room before finally grabbing her and making monching sounds on her belly. I am the one who gets to rock James to sleep every day and night. I am the one that they want when they are hurt or sad. It is my arms that they run into, my lap that they crawl on. When we’re around other people James will twist up his face when he sees me and can’t get to me. It is to me that everyone looks to when Faith comes up with one of her Faith-isms that they need to have translated. I am the one that they seek out and climb on and laugh with every single day.

******************

I don’t make any money. I have no recognition for my work. I don’t get raises or reviews or a pat on the back when a job is well done. I don’t get to gab with girls at the office or hear any daily gossip. I don’t get to be challenged intellectually or test myself or see what my own boundaries are. I don’t get to have a drive home where I can think to myself that I did a great job that day. I don’t get to come home after a long day of work and kick off my shoes and lean back and relax for an hour. I don’t ever pick up my purse and head to the movies or out shopping just because. I don’t meet co-workers or friends after work and talk about my day. I hardly talk to anyone besides my family members.

*******************
I was there for Faith’s first steps and was the one who got to see Jamie’s last week. I heard Faith’s first words, and will be there when James says his. I’ve taken care of them through every sickness, and have been there for every doctor appointment. I’ve been there every day through every phase. I got to see all of those sweet and rare moments that get hidden throughout the day; seeing Faith playing when she thinks no one is watching, or James smiling up at me with sleepy eyes right before falling forward onto my shoulder for naptime. I get the reward of knowing that the next morning they will wake up happy, like they do every day, and that I will have hours of un-interrupted time with them.

Most vs. Some

2008-09-04T10:03:00.001-04:00

I wonder if I will ever be able to accept how fast taking care of two very young children goes from being pleasantly busy to CALGON, TAKE ME AWAY.

Most days feel like the movie Groundhog Day. I wake up, change diapers, make meals, get them down for naps, change diapers, feed, change, rock, console, feed, change, and so on and so forth until I feel like I will just become an emotionless robot after a time, just going forward about my day mechanically. On days when things are different, a new errand thrown into the mix or being somewhere else, then I feel like OH NO, the schedule is off and then spend so much effort trying to do the same things I always do, the same things that sort of drive me crazy with the monotony.

Most days though, I am fairly happy about it all, if a little robotic, and sometimes the redundancy seems to be a comfortable sort of tedium, pleasing and harmonious to us all.

Some days however, Faith gets frustrated because something isn’t working quite right and starts howling, or she refuses to take a nap, which wakes up James, who in turn then keeps her up. I, in turn, lose my mind. It seems like an impossible task to find something that she will eat willingly and when I suggest something simple and usually agreeable like a sandwich she will suddenly scream and writhe on the ground as if I am tormenting her and adding another degree of torture to her already hideous life. Or the inescapable temper tantrum that comes with trying to get her tiny toys to line up JUST RIGHT in her toy plane. The black dog has to be in the very back with his head turned just so, the white dog has to be on the right side near the front, NO, NOT THAT NEAR THE FRONT MOMMY AAAAAGHHHHHH, and then when finally they are all in place and she tries to carry the plane across the room and they slide off their assigned spots, then I want to go run and hide from my own two year old daughter because she turns into a really scary monster. The times when they cry all day because of lack of sleep or boredom, or who knows what. I don’t ever know. Then Jeff comes home and I want to say “Here, take your children while I run far, far away and maybe I’ll be back soon,” but I can’t ever say that because once he gets home he has to help his father build a fence or he has to till the garden or fix his motorcycle or . . .

So. Yes. Some days are bad, most are pretty good, but all of them I am so thankful for. I have a feeling that one day I will look back on the days when I grabbed my hair in my hands and howled at the ceiling and smile to myself and maybe miss those chaotic and frustrating moments. Or . . . not.

Say It All

2008-08-31T23:10:00.000-04:00

SOMEONE has been on the computer because the curser was HUGE, the font size was 163 instead of 12. Who could have done that? It is like when Faith manages to touch two keys on the keyboard and I spend an hour trying to undo what changes she had made to my settings. Or when James picks up the remote and is suddenly recording some dragon show that I never knew existed and then Jeff comes home and looks at the recorded shows and wonders why he never knew his wife was a fantasy loving geek.

Anyway.

I am sort of sad to say that this Labor Day weekend is not very fun so far. We’ve gone to church, taken naps, I mopped the floor, did some laundry . . . oh my goodness I have to just stop right there. I am envisioning myself reading this years down the road thinking, “why on earth did you sit there typing the most boring list of stuff ever?” although to be truthful, church was really not at all boring. It never is with two small children. It almost seems laughable to think that one can expect their children to respect the quiet holiness of the sanctuary and to be reverent and understand the importance of it all. James would have fallen asleep on my lap but we forgot his pacifier and so right when the sermon began he began his loud and whiny grunting. I took him out to the lobby and saw the doors were open so I stood outside for a couple of minutes swaying back and forth and catching snippets of sound. He finally fell asleep on my shoulder and I stayed out there for a couple minutes more, both to assure he was really asleep and to just enjoy it. It seemed special all of the sudden to just stand outside the church even and breathe in the fresh air and feel the unusual brush of my long dress against my bare legs. When I walked back in we stepped by several other parents with their babies on their shoulders all looking at James and I a little enviously, I thought. “Mine is asleep,” I smiled to them. “You can come back out and take ours!” they grinned back.

We had a full house in our tiny country church this week. We had a guest speaker, well known in our church system, and I believe it was also friends and family day. I sometimes pray to be able to receive the message and I think I did.

The reason why I think I did is this: A year ago, two years ago, well, probably my whole life I never would have written this down. There are many people who don’t believe in what I do, who get turned off immediately by someone who not only has beliefs but states them openly. I didn’t want to turn off people, I didn’t want to stand out and be different.

I believe in God. I have faith. My faith gets stronger every day. I am not worried about turning people away. I worry more about not speaking up about what I believe. It’s a courage I never thought I would have. I would have just buried the fact that I went to church, I would have written about the laundry instead. I would have cared more about being well written or humorous or thought provoking instead of just being honest.

It’s more than just freeing. It’s peace.

And so I am able to write about it, yes church is part of my life. This week in the life of Jenny featuring children, housework, money woes, martial harmony and discord, the death of a garden, and God.

Lately - Complaining and Disjointed

2008-08-28T10:00:00.000-04:00

The past couple days have been especially rainy, yesterday being a consistent downpour that lasted all day long. A river formed in our front yard, my in-laws’ driveway washed out, a nearby town flooded completely. It was sort of awesome in that dreary sort of way in the beginning of the day, but woe is me, I live in a trailer. The front porch (porch! Ha! I mean a pile of rusted tin!) (I’m bitter today) leaked, the dogs got into the trash can and tore up dirty baby diapers which got rained all over so the back porch (porch! Ha! I mean a pile of rotted wood!) (Oh, so very bitter) is covered in damp baby poo.

My hair has taken on a life of it’s own. Where my daughter’s hair lays in strawberry blonde ringlets down her back when it rains, mine grows out to extraordinary length and width and the frizz can be like a lion’s mane, or just like a crazy redneck woman who has had a bad perm. I have not had a perm, just to make myself clear. I just have big hair at times.

So it was a struggle this morning with the flat iron. It took me half an hour to straighten my super long hair until it was sufficiently glossy and sleek enough to go out to distribute resumes.

I am still looking. I have applied at places where I am qualified and then I have applied at places that I am completely OVER qualified for and I have not heard a word. I don’t know if it’s because I’ve been out of work for so long, or if it’s because of the economy, or if it’s because of where we live. That’s a problem with small towns. The opportunity for work is just so scarce. Jeff had to take a huge pay cut to get on at a shop up here, but it was preferable to driving almost an hour away to go to work. So it was that I applied for a job that would pay me less than what I made when I started my first office job when I was nineteen.

It is just time for me to suck it up and deal with it. It is time for me to find a job already and make money once again so we can build a real house.

The only thing that makes me doubt that is that is just feels wrong sometimes. I feel like I’m supposed to spend my days with my kids. I’m praying for a sign, for an opportunity. In the meantime I am sending out my resume.

In other news, James suddenly went from having two tiny teeth poking through his bottom gums to now having several coming through the top. He’s also discovered the stairs at his Mamaw and Papaw’s and this is sad and involves many frantic sprints by me to find him halfway up the long, wooden steps. He’s also in that unfortunate stage of standing and almost walking, but not quite, so there are many falls and bumps. I want to take him for portraits soon, but he always is sporting some new scratch or bruise.

Faith is just pure wonderful in all of it’s forms. She’s so funny; the things she comes up with just crack us up. She has a temper, yes, but she is so happy all of the time and it just makes me happy to absorb some of that. She’s been especially good with James lately and now that they are at an age where they can play together is something I hadn’t even been anticipating, but now that it is here it is like a fabulous and unexpected gift.

Reunions

2008-08-22T16:53:00.001-04:00

I walked into the mall with a vague sense of where I was going. I knew that there was an indoor playground area for kids to run around in, and I dimly remembered seeing it one of the times I was in there. I found it quickly enough for never having taken my kids to it. I am not that social and often avoid public play areas for kids - I’m just too shy, too awkward.

She said she’d be there. “I have red hair now,” and she was right. I couldn’t miss her hair, but was that her? The girl I met when I was fourteen years old? The girl who I’ve been through everything with? The one who I’ve had hateful arguments with and also the one with whom I declared that Thursdays were our macaroni and cheese nights? The girl who turned me onto some of my favorite books and who I could admit that I loved Laguna beach to?

Yes. It was her. We hugged and then sat back and viewed the one thing that we hadn’t yet gone through together. Being parents.

It happens frequently, I suppose. Conversations shift towards children and how our lives are altered by them. Milestones in development, genetics that make up their hair color, it all gets talked about.

At the end of the day, when we were saying goodbye, it struck me how much didn’t get talked about and I began to miss her already. It was the first time in ten months that I had spent time with someone other than a family member and it hit me like a punch in the stomach. I need this. I need my friends. I can’t let time go on too long or a distance that big come between us again. I missed her and the casual comfort that we so quickly fall into when we are together. She is one of those people that it never seems to matter if I’ve been away from her for two weeks or two years because when we meet again it’s as if no time has passed at all. There no awkward getting-to-know-you conversation that we have to endure before the real stuff pours out. There’s no making ourselves appear as if we’re better than what we are, and no poor-mouthing ourselves either for that matter. We just simply are who we are and we accept it and love it.

I feel a little bit more whole again and in a strange way I have began to wonder how many pieces I was in in the first place.

A new Mr. & Mrs.

2008-08-20T00:02:00.001-04:00

The first time I heard about him we were at a wedding. While waiting for the ceremony to begin my sister-in-law showed me a picture on her phone. “This is the guy I’ve been seeing,” she said and right away I knew it was something serious and different from past boyfriends. For one thing, he was much better looking in a perfectly wonderful and normal way than any guy she’d dated. For another, she was telling me about him.

At another wedding, two months later, she told me that she hoped I’d have more kids than just Faith and the bun that was baking in the oven (James) (duh). Whenever she had her wedding then she’d have to have a flower girl and by that time Faith would be way too old, she said. “You never know,” I said in a sing song teasing voice. “This guy might marry you one day,” and she just smiled. Yep. Different than any relationship she’d ever had.

This past weekend they got married and Faith was indeed the flower girl. I was a last minute bridesmaid, and the whole wedding was sort of last minute at that. It all came together, as they always tend to do, and we all breathed a big sigh of relief when it was over. Despite all the panic and frantic shopping, decorating, and planning it was awful nice to have a wedding, especially for those two. I’ve seen a new side of her that I know he’s responsible for and it’s always sort of mushy to see two people pledging to love each other for eternity. It makes you want to make meaningful eye contact with your significant other and then maybe slow dance later.

Instead of that though, Jeff and I helped Faith eat several plates of cake and took turns carrying Master James around.

There was an after party where we met people who’d we had heard of, people whose reputation not only preceded them but made one think that perhaps mayhem was in the air. Alas, nothing happened, and yet we still had plenty of stories to inform each other of for the next day. We spent the weekend in that post-celebration fog, relieved to be free of duties and maybe a little disappointed to not have something big around the corner to look forward to and speculate on.

They are on their honeymoon now and I hope that they are taking this time and making it into something that will remain stamped on their minds forever as a ridiculously romantic and deliriously happy few days. I hope that they carry a little bit of it around forever in a back pocket to be pulled out now and then. We all need those moments and those pieces of joy to hang on to.

Summer Vacation

2008-08-14T23:01:00.013-04:00

Whenever I go to Savannah or Tybee I suddenly feel right. I feel like I can relax, I can sit back and soak in the world, I let go of worries, I get inspired, I feel alive. Whenever I come back from there the world starts slowly seeping back in in a slightly unpleasant way. Back from vacation blues times two or ten or a hundred.

My uncle very generously offered us to stay at his beach house for a family vacation so Jeff and the kids and I stayed there, my parents stayed with my uncle right behind us and my sister and her three kids stayed at a family friends home next door. It was sort of fun being able to walk back and forth between houses and also at times a little panic ridden. “Where is Faith?” we would suddenly shriek before realizing she was just next door with her cousins.

Instead of feeling like everyone around was too much of a good thing I really enjoyed it and felt sad when my sister and my nephew and nieces had to leave early. I even had a moment of craziness when I thought about keeping her kids for the remainder of the time. Don’t worry. Sanity kicked in at the last minute.

I love history and Savannah and the island are absolutely ridden with it. It’s small time life with charm and soul. It’s slower down there, even slower than here in the mountains. Jeff and I rode bikes past sprawling mansions that once faced the oceans and then past new cottages painted bright colors decorated with twinkle lights. I spent as much time as I could sitting on the front porch reading and just staring off into space breathing the ocean-tainted air and feeling peaceful. James was ever-attached to me as always, but he even seemed more laid back there. We would occasionally ask each other why we didn’t live there always.

We drove into the city of Savannah a couple of times. My grandmother, who Faith is named after, is buried in a cemetery right beside Bonaventure. Who would have thought that wandering a place of the dead could be so enchanting. In a GOOD way that is.

My aunt used to sneak in Bonaventure at night when she was a teenager. Um. No. I could not do that.

I was down there for four days before I remembered that there is such a thing as the internet. We watched very little television, and relied only on books and each other and the town itself for entertainment. It was wonderful.

It was filled with many tiny adventures: the baby squirrel’s life that I saved, the hundreds of starfish that washed up on the beach, Jeff and I going back to “our” restaurant on River Street, taking James to the beach for the first time, celebrating my mother’s birthday, the silly, yet somewhat entertaining ghost tour that ended at the Pirates House where I did get a little freaked out. Most important, and how cliché of me to say, was the time spent with my family, all of us in one spot with just days to plan or not plan and just be there together.

Of course, you can't please everyone.

Oh yeah, THIS thing

2008-08-14T09:30:00.000-04:00

Apparently, I rather suck at this whole blog thing. I get it, posts, updates, all those thoughts that swirl around in my head at an impossible velocity get written down and recorded in actual words, but the execution is another thing all together. Time! Such a precious commodity around here.

We spent last week on vacation and I’ve been putting together a post about it, but so far only in my mind. There are pictures to upload and beach towels to wash and sand toys to re-store and oh yeah, furniture to move and then shoes to buy to go with my new (borrowed, but completely adorable oh how I love it) dress that was meant to be worn to Jeff’s sister’s wedding this weekend. Only yesterday, the day after I bought brand new shoes for the first time in, I don’t know, probably two years, I got asked to be IN the wedding as a bridesmaid. My first thought was, but I already have a dress to wear! And new shoes! Then my next thought was, oh my goodness if I had known that I would be standing up in front of EVERYONE then I would have been starving myself for the past two months. Instead I will be standing beside all of my sister-in-law’s best friends, all tiny despite having kids. Yes, I have lost weight, but no, I am not a size two. It seems there was a massive argument between my sister-in-law and one of her bridesmaids and the girl is out of the wedding, and I believe the dress fits. Sure, there could be better reasons for being asked to be in a wedding, but at the same time, we’re the sort of family who does these sort of things.

So. A little distressed, but pleased, and also harried over here.

The other thing that keeps me from updating is the fact that we recently got a tivo, which means that I have been able to watch ancient episodes of 90210 during my frenzied mornings.

Anyway, there it is, excuses. I am trying to get better at time-management so that I can have all of life’s pleasures, including 90210 AND writing AND shoe-shopping AND keeping those two kids alive and happy and loved.

Nine Months Up, Nine Months Down

2008-07-31T15:32:00.001-04:00

As with most women who have had children, I now have an appreciation for my body that I used to not have. It is an amazing piece of human machinery that conceived, grew, birthed, and fed two children, and as far as I know, could continue to do so.

But, oh, vanity.

Before I had any children I was not completely satisfied with my body. I could stand to lose ten or fifteen pounds, I ate junk, drank too much, didn’t exercise, and so on and so forth. How I did wrong by my body is enough to write several essays on. Then I got pregnant. I had to take care of myself and suddenly enjoyed taking care of myself. I ate better, but I still would snack constantly. Also, where I worked was a place where vendors tried to schmooze us (schmooze? It is a word?) and would often bring by doughnuts and cookies and the like. My wonderful co-workers always made a point to let me have the first go at them. “Better let the pregnant lady go first!”

I happily would. I ended up gaining about fifty pounds.

After Faith was born I didn’t even care first about all that extra weight. I was just so in love with my baby and everything else took a backseat. Every once in a while, though, I would get up the courage to try on a pair of my old jeans. Try and FAIL, for months.

Then I began walking. I really didn’t do it as much for exercise as I did it to just get out of the house for half an hour. I would put on the ipod, my shoes, and take off around the neighborhood. Later, I began cutting out sugar from my coffee. Then I stopped using butter. Then we stopped frying food. A little change would lead to a bigger one, and eventually all of my eating habits had changed. One day I tried on my jeans again and not only could I button them, but they were too big. In a fit of glee I tried on everything I owned and all of my clothes were too big. I bought new jeans. I lost another ten pounds on top of that. My father-in-law told me I needed to eat some biscuits. My sister let me try on her clothes, which were also too big, and my sister is an extremely tall, extremely thin woman. This was just weird. Awesome, but weird. Right when I was getting used to it I got pregnant. “This time,” I thought to myself “I will not gain fifty pounds”.

I gained fifty-one.

Losing weight the second time around has been different. I no longer live in a sub-division so walking is not the same exercise as it used to be. Jeff is a lot busier so times that I do walk I have to take the kids with me and it’s not so much exercise with two tiny people. I seem to have more of a love for food than I used to. I don’t know. Excuses.

James just turned nine months old. He has been out of my body as long as he was in it. I am one pound away from my pre-pregnancy weight. I fit into most of my old clothes (one pair of jeans, my teeny-tiny jeans, they just aren’t working with me).

It’s exciting, being able to do this again. A tiny bit harder than last time, but I did it. Almost. You know, one pound to go.

The Closest Neighbors We Have

2008-07-28T20:38:00.000-04:00

Sometimes I imagine myself making new friends and telling someone about where I live.

“You live next door to your in-laws?” I imagine my new, not real, friend saying incredulously.

I imagine this because; well for one thing I’m a loser who imagines meeting new friends (hi, dork self!), and also because I know how most of the world sees their in-laws. Some are okay, some are really not, but most people wouldn’t want to live next door to theirs.

Mine are just different.

They lived in the trailer for three years while they saved and then began the building process on their new home. They told us we could live in the trailer and offered us land so that we could build our dream home next. We obviously accepted (and ever since have talked non-stop about our future home). My mother-in-law told me that if I ever wanted to go back to school or back to work that she would change her work schedule to keep our kids. She also offers to keep our kids all the time so that we can go shopping, or out to eat, or just so we can get chores done. When we go over there she always reaches out her hands to take the baby from my arms and when supper is ready she comes back to take James so that I can eat with the rest of the adults. My father-in-law always comes over weekly to haul off our trash even though we tell him we can do it ourselves. I’ve looked out the window to see him ride by on the lawnmower cutting our grass. He’s come in here with bags bulging from the garden that we’ve neglected to pick for a couple days. They built a pool beside their house, mostly for our kids and us. My mother-in-law often comes by with clothes she’s picked up for Faith and James and she has started keeping a drawer full of baby food at her house, even though we live just next door.

They are just awesome. I could not imagine better grandparents for my kids.

There are times, though, that I just want to be around Jeff and the kids, simply because we’ve spent so much time in the past two years around family members. I just want our little family in our own little space and to not have to do obligatory visiting with people we see all the time. However, that feeling often vanishes very quickly.

Last night around 7:30 Jeff told me that his dad was buying some steaks and planned to grill out. Immediately I began private grumbling. It was really too late for me to eat dinner, it will be forever before the food is ready, on so on and so forth. I can really be a buzz kill sometimes.

Then, two hours later, I’m holding a sleepy James on an outdoor glider in the corner of their patio, just in the shade from the porch light. Jeff has turned on the pool light and my father in law has solid country gold on the radio. Although I am not a big country music fan, it feels sort of right rocking James to the old music made more than twenty years ago. The sun has just set, leaving vibrant peach streaks in the slate sky, and I watch the trees move so gently, that if I weren’t staring at them it would seem like they weren’t moving at all. Faith is running around inside with her second cousins, and my mother-in-law is talking with her sister while getting food prepared, Jeff helps his dad grill. It’s too late to eat still, but I will. The kids should be in bed, but I’m glad they are not. I think, this is nice, no this is perfect.

Yeah, I’m pretty happy about the whole in-laws next-door thing.

Nieces

2008-07-23T22:39:00.000-04:00

For several days now I’ve had my two nieces staying with me. My sister needed help with childcare since my mother is out of town and I’ve missed my nieces and thought that they are young and simple enough to enjoy country living for a few days without missing the luxuries of life too much.

They went back home today and although I could elaborate at length on my mental and physical state right now, suffice to say that I am exhausted.

Not only is it more laundry and more dishes to wash and more food to cook, but it’s the pickiness of the eaters, one wants this food, but the other two refuse it. It was the constant bickering between my five-year-old niece and my two-year-old daughter. It was the constant effort of entertaining my eleven year old niece and then throw a baby in there that has severe attachment issues at the moment and, well, there you have me, a mindless and tired puddle of Jenny.

All I really want to do is curl up in bed and not do a single thing for an entire day. I just want to read a good escapism book about pirates or something ridiculous, and stay in bed for hours beyond the point of the normal limits. I want to not think or do anything. I know this sounds whiny and silly, but I just FEEL whiny and silly. Maybe it’s osmosis or something. I’ve been around whiny children and felt the need to join in.

I’m also slightly disappointed, maybe because I set my expectations too high. I remember being the age of my oldest niece, and going to visit my aunt. I always loved her, sometimes more than the rest of my family. She just seemed so real and down to earth and funny and simply fun to be around. She seemed like she really listened to me when I talked and she kept up with my life. She made the most out of every situation and even a trip up to the local gas station sometimes felt like an adventure with her. I so badly wanted to give my niece that same experience. Well, I failed. I watched her shows with her and just tried to be upbeat and happy and show her the more simple pleasures in life. Jeff took her for rides on the four-wheeler and she saw rabbits and deer, she went by the garden, she played fetch with our great danes, she just simply was here not having to be poked and prodded and fussed at. However, I had James to constantly care for and he seemed even more needy than usual because of the girls being around. I had to mediate arguments with the two little girls. I had lunches to make for Jeff, I had to apply sun block, I had beds to make, and here I am still making excuses.

Three days later and she’s gone and maybe the chance I had to connect with her is gone. I am sorry for it, but so thankful for it at the same time. I’m not ready for four children quite yet. And who knows, maybe one day she’ll write about the few days she spent with her aunt up in the mountains and how she’s always remembered that experience.

Or maybe she’ll always just be grateful for her own large house and a kitchen that holds more than peanut butter sandwiches and vegetarian food.

Now What?

2008-07-17T08:58:00.000-04:00

So. Yesterday was another day of diapers, bottles, potties, constant meal making and deal making, bribery, and tiny life lessons with the kids. In other words, just another day at home.

At one point James was crying and Faith was fake crying because she did NOT want to take a nap and the phone started ringing. I looked at the caller ID, didn’t recognize the number and laid it down. We do not yet have an answering machine or voice mail yet. So it rang and rang and finally I was like, WHAT ON EARTH PHONE JUST SHUT IT!

But I still didn’t answer it.

Later, curiosity and the power of Google told me that it was the office of the job I interviewed for last week. Obviously, they did not leave a message and they have not called back. I don’t know what any of this means.

I suppose I am thankful that I don’t have to go back to work quite yet. We have a vacation planned for the first week of August and I have a doctor’s appointment for James next week and I was so scared of having to start a job but to tell them from the very beginning that I already needed time off. Who am I kidding, I have kids, and I’ll always need time off. I just sort of thought that I would know when my last week or so at home was, and I would spend it holding the kids constantly and reading tons of books to them and playing all of Faith’s intricate make believe games involving a mixture of babies and other small assorted toys – in other words, the things that I don’t do enough.

I’m still looking and trying to figure out where I should be. It’s difficult to try to figure out what the master plan to your life is. But for now, I’m off to go read to the kids, play games . . .

Interview

2008-07-14T11:06:00.000-04:00

I am officially looking for a job, but not very aggressively. I will occasionally go to a job search engine and look, sometimes more willingly than others. I’ve seen some things that I think would be a good fit, but most jobs have been a little too far away or a little bit too much of a stretch from my experience.

Last week I saw a job that I thought, “hey, I can do that!” and so I started filling out an application on a spontaneous whim. I got to the second phase of the application process before it really registered that I was applying for a full time position when I would really like to work part time, so I just hit cancel and went about my day.

On Thursday I was writing my friend one of my typical long and rambling emails. In it I wrote that I was starting to feel a tiny bit panicky that there weren’t many jobs available. I suppose I had foolishly thought that when the time came that I would want to go back to work there would be open and available positions that I could pick and choose from.

Fifteen minutes after I sent the email I got a phone call.

“Hello, may I speak to Jennifer?”

“This is she,”

?

“I am calling about an application you submitted online? We’d like for you to come in for an interview. Would tomorrow work?”

My mind started spinning and tripping over itself. Application? Online? But . . . that was the only application, and I didn’t even submit it. How. . . What . . .?

“Oh! Okay, um, yes I suppose tomorrow would be fine,” and I found myself setting up an interview and getting directions all while being slightly dumbfounded. I immediately called my husband, talking a little too fast and my thoughts being strewn too far around to make much sense.

All that night I wondered, was this a sign? I mean, I had CANCELLED my application and yet the system had still received it. Seriously though, that’s probably just how the system works, not so much divine intervention. But what if it was? I argued back and forth with myself. I often find myself looking for signs and then wondering if I am creating my own.

So the next morning found me trying to get ready all while taking care of two young children, hurriedly straightening my hair, applying makeup, putting on my professional clothes that haven’t been on my skin in three years. Jeff came home so I could go to the interview and admired the way I looked, I probably looked like a completely different person. I sort of FELT like a different person, competent in a way that I had missed. Nervous and excited I went to the interview, not knowing if I was thrilled at the chance of working again, or scared of the thought of not being able to stay home with my kids anymore.

Three days later here I am, still feeling torn between the two feelings. I’m not sure how the interview went. I think they liked me and I immediately found myself trying to sell myself to them, but I don’t have a lot of experience in that particular field and there was a glitch in the system that showed that I was still working and they seemed a tiny displeased that I’ve been out of work for two and a half years. I don’t know if I’ll get a call. Part of me hopes that I don’t. More than half of me hopes that I don’t. I just can’t stomach the thought that maybe my last full weeks with the children were spent not even knowing they were the last.

Yet, part of me will feel like I have failed if I don’t get offered the job. Rejection is always a sour feeling, I suppose, even if it is hoped for.

Perhaps A Little Too Deep For Tuesday Morning

2008-07-08T11:11:00.000-04:00

I have kept journals since I was about fourteen years old. When I was a teenager I discovered the amusing diversion of looking at an entry written the year before. I would usually chuckle at my previous immaturity and experience disbelief that I could ever have a crush on HIM or that I wasted so much time in THAT drama, etc. I would write a new entry with my newfound experience and wisdom of knowledge from another year of life, only to inescapably fall into the same scenario another year into the future.

I still find myself doing it, reading about how life was two years ago when Faith was about 8 months old, the age that James is now. I compare their milestones or remember some little funny thing that she did at that time that has slipped from my mind. I try to recall things that I didn’t write down like my eating habits or just how I lost all that weight so easily, or what my daily routine was. I try to fill in all the blanks, and sometimes I try to forget.

Then I go back a little further and remember how life was five years ago. Most likely I would come home from my professional job where I wore nice clothes and heels and go straight to the fridge where I would grab a cold beer before I even changed out of my clothes, and then Jeff and I would sit on the back deck for hours exchanging bits of gossip and then as the hours wore on and we became more inebriated the conversation would shift to who was a better lyricist, James Hetfield or Axl Rose? Occasionally we would go out to eat where we would eat and drink with no thought to the amount we were spending and then tipsily walk over to Target where we would wander the aisles until the buzz wore off, accumulating more unnecessary stuff and more debt. I had all the time in the world then, time to read or paint my toenails, time to spend on the phone with friends and time to exercise, but back then I thought I had no time at all.

If I do the same game of compare and contrast, then I think the girl I was five years ago would never imagine the person I am today. I spend all day with two young children, wearing t-shirts and cut-off shorts, Jeff and I no longer spend our marriage as drinking buddies, we don’t go crazy spending the money like we used to and we are just so undeniably different in every way that it feels like the people we were five years ago are like characters in some movie that we watched or book that we read. Of course sometimes the nostalgia of days gone by takes over and I remember fondly our silly and drunken conversations, but I am happier that those times are past. Time has a value to me now that I couldn’t have imagined before. So does marriage, for that matter. Things that held such importance are not even a factor in my life anymore. A million little lessons have been learned without me even knowing I was learning them.

I wonder what I will think a year from now.

The Fourth

2008-07-06T19:09:00.007-04:00

For the past few days we've been on a camping trip. We took the pull-behind camper and stayed on the lake for a few days and it was so PERFECT. It was the quintessential summertime type of thing – camping on a lake, watermelons, lazy days, grilling out, taking naps (yes, I took a nap, it felt so wrong, but SO GOOD), Jeff playing guitar. The kids enjoyed it, and somehow it managed to be relaxing even with two small children in a tiny space. Now coming back home from being in a 31-foot camper for three days, well, it feels like a mansion here.

Friday was spent swimming and absorbing the sun's rays, holding sleepy and slightly sweaty children, and eating great food. That evening Jeff's parents and grandmother came out to our campsite and we cooked for them. Oh, ha! I mean, Jeff cooked for them and eventually Jeff's dad took over the grilling. I just sat around and talked. After the food was finally prepared my father-in-law declared the dinner perfect EXCEPT for the obvious missing ever-important potato salad, which he said while looking accusingly (and comically) at me. Of course! Where was the potato salad? So, wonderful day besides the whole potato salad thing.

At one point in the trip, I sat down on a picnic bench for a few moments and just stared at the lake. We were incredibly lucky to get a spot by the lake, and it was just so beautiful I wanted to take a little while to soak it all in. While I sat there I wondered, would we remember this trip always? What we did for Fourth of July 2008 . . . we went camping with the children, we got an awesome spot on the lake, yes, that was the trip when we grilled out for Jeff’s parents, when Faith fell in love with watermelon and dripped it all over her new flag shirt that she loved, that was when James danced his crazy little serpentine dance whenever Jeff played guitar, that was when we were young and trying to teach the kids how to just enjoy life. Or will we remember it more like, whatever did we DO that year?

Pressing Pause

2008-06-23T10:10:00.000-04:00

“I yuv you, Mommy,” she says and rubs my arm with her little and warm hand. Her hair smells like her lavender shampoo and her cheek is slightly sticky from her morning waffle.

She’s real. She’s flesh and blood and bones and thoughts and emotions and she’s mine. She’s in my lap and I hold her.

Her brother drags himself on his stomach over to where we sit, gurgling and squealing and happy that we’re on his level. He reaches my knee and starts to pull himself up, head-butting me in his own little unusual way of affection.

Sometimes it still comes as a shock to me that I am a parent, that I have children that are my own, that Jeff and I created two whole people. It still overwhelms me how powerful the love I feel for them is. I say a prayer thanking the Lord for her, for him. How precious they are. Not the precious used to describe lap dogs, but the precious that describes them. Rare. Delicate. Dear to my heart. The most amazing gift I could ever hope for.

I think, how did I get here, what did I do to deserve this? Sitting on the floor with two tiny children crawling all over me, competing with each other for my arms. Clutching on to my neck like monkeys. Or the first sight I see in the mornings, Faith running into my room, standing next to my bed, already asking questions or preferably, crawling in next to me and sharing my pillow.

I worry, what happens when they grow up? When they will inevitably want nothing to do with me? So I hold them a little tighter and try to freeze this moment and sear the image into my mind to last forever.

Negative

2008-06-18T14:06:00.000-04:00

My sister’s neighbor just recently found out she is pregnant. She has a baby that is just over three months old.

I am usually so YAY BABY about everything, but this was just so surprising. Mostly because James is only eight months old and I imagined being in her shoes. If I had gotten pregnant in the same timeframe that she had then I would be five months pregnant right now. I tried to think of it and . . . my mind melted. Not capable of those sort of thoughts.

Then I must have some sympathy-pregnant-type feelings because the last few days I just felt so strange. Nauseated, not outright barfing, but just always feeling unsettled. Especially tired. A floating through a fog feeling. “Pregnant,” I said to myself. However, I have an IUD. Which is 99.9% effective. Which is more effective than tubal litigation. Still, the internet says it is possible to still get pregnant, though very dangerous to the embryo, usually ending in miscarriage.

I let my thoughts run off on the crazy track like I often do and so I went to ye olde dollar store to buy a pregnancy test. How horrible it would be if I were to be pregnant. With two young kids, no money, living in a trailer for goodness sake! I would have to get my IUD removed and I have no health insurance for another couple of weeks. It is just such a bad time to even contemplate the idea. And yet, I found myself oddly hopeful as I waited for the results.

One line.

I know, I KNOW, that it is the wrong time for another baby. What is wrong with me to always want MORE babies? Why do I feel just a little disappointed?

Looking

2008-06-12T13:16:00.000-04:00

It was an emotional surge of frustration that caused me to quickly grind out a resume in less than five minutes and submit it online before even proofreading it. Then for the next two days I swung madly between fervently hoping that I got a call to desperately wishing that I wouldn’t.

The job has been taken down, the position has been filled and I don’t know if I’m happy about that or not.

Here’s the thing - I’m happy to be a stay at home mom. Thrilled, in fact. I love not having to be anywhere at a specific time, I love not waking up to an alarm clock (although crying babies are not all that much better), and I love being the one, even if the only one, taking care of my kids. In a perfect situation I would be ecstatic to stay home with them until they went to school. However, we’re not in a perfect situation. We are so strapped for money, our home is far from ideal and I’ve just . . . . had it. I feel like I’ve reached my limit on what I can stand. Staying at home is fine, staying at someone else’s home and having to put up with all that goes with it because you can’t speak up because it’s not your place to begin with, well, it gets to a person.

I don’t know if I’m ready to leave them everyday. There just aren’t that many options right now. On one hand I feel so lucky that I’ve gotten to spend this much time with them and on the other, I could spend more.

Where do I go from here? Should I actively pursue seeking a new job? Or should I just wait and see how far our money can stretch and for how long? I wish sometimes that the answers were obvious and available.

A Lack O' Money

2008-06-10T16:16:00.000-04:00

I would love to be all warm and fuzzy and Susie Sunshine and say that the best things in life are free, but truthfully, not having money SUCKS. Especially when you’ve lived with your parents for a year and a half and then get excited about moving into a TRAILER. Especially after you visit your sister, whose house seems large to the point of being insane. All three of her children have a bathroom to themselves. They have an entire room for toys. There is a room in her house that is home to a desk and computer only. On top of all of that they have a full basement. True, she is tying to sell her house now and perhaps downsize, although she has yet to find anything she likes in her price range. Well, of course she hasn’t. After spending my days in a trailer and then going to her house, it seems like her house is an indulgence that borders on being obscene.

However, I will say this, with experience and conviction. Having a home of your own, no matter how big or small, that is just for you and your children and husband, and having the privacy that goes with that is absolutely wonderful beyond describing. To have our own things again in our own (admittedly tiny) space is like heaven on earth.

I joke with my husband telling him that this is all character building. It really may be. Or it might just be that we’re poor and doing what we have to do to get financially stable before beginning construction on our dream home up here on family land. For years we spent money that we didn’t have, justifying our purchases, and now we are having to go without. We are thrifty when we do buy, we don’t waste leftovers, and we save for something that we really want or need. It feels good to finally GET IT when it comes to money. Of course I wish we had reached this point years ago, but hey, what happened has happened, and in an annoying warm and fuzzy and Susie Sunshine way, it’s time to make the best of it.

The Great Outdoors

2008-06-04T13:50:00.000-04:00

The other day I was feeling very happy housewifey, so I went outside to pick some flowers to put in a vase and set on the table for my husband when he came home from lunch. So Faith and I went outside and retrieved our rose-like flowers, hers without thorns of course, and the sun was shining on us as we started walking back and then I took a look down at my charming little bouquet and saw a big brown spider crawling frantically over the petals. I screamed, threw them down and then stared in horror as black mini-slug like creatures scattered all over the asphalt. Faith asked, “Are you scared, Mommy? Don’t be afraid,” and I assured her I was not scared, merely disgusted and took her flower and looked inside, and yes, more of the nasty black whatever-they-are bugs.

Needless to say, I am still adjusting to this country life. I am enchanted by all of the flora and fauna that surrounds me, yet need to remember that I don’t live in a giant flower shop and that there are indeed little nasties that live in the plants. I’ve had to learn the hard way to look for the telltale shimmer of a spider web before walking between two trees. I know now to pay attention to any faint movement out of the corner of my eye, since it could be a fly or spider or some mysterious mountain bug lurking and waiting to jump on me.

Although I do still find myself delighted whenever we come across some animal out here. Right next to us is the long driveway that leads to my in-laws’ house and we walk up it almost every day. We nearly always see rabbits on it and last week saw several deer cross our path, then watched them as they watched us. I found a snake out there when walking with the kids. We see groundhogs bounding across the fields. Now that I’m growing a garden, however, I find that these creatures are not always welcome. Also, I’ve discovered that while it is still a novelty for me to see all these forest creatures roaming about not everyone takes the same views I do. For instance a neighbor and distant cousin of my husband (cue banjo music) set out rabbit boxes. “For what?” I asked. My father-in-law slowly informed me that it was to raise them, and then belatedly added that they were also to be used to train dogs. Part of my brain clicked. Oh. For dogs. To kill them.

Then there was the day when my husband was riding his motorcycle home and a cardinal flew into him, killing itself and scaring my husband out of his mind. If one is supposed to make a wish every time they see one of those red birds, what does it mean when you kill one?

I’m still waiting to wake up in the mornings and have the bluebirds fly in my window to set my robe on my shoulders and have the field mice make my breakfast. What? You mean fairytales can’t come true?

Old Friends

2008-06-03T10:52:00.000-04:00

Last week I talked to my friend Mandie for the first time in over seven months. We’ve emailed briefly here and there, but haven’t spoken. It’s the longest we’ve gone since we met fourteen years ago. Mandie is very good at keeping up with people. She always sends birthday cards and thank you notes, she always brings the right gift for the occasion, and she will reach out for contact for a certain amount of time before she lets you know that it is time for it to be reciprocated. In her last email she sent to me she jokingly sent me her phone number. I knew that was my cue to call her before her courtesy of waiting for me ran out.

It was so refreshingly her. We talked about our animals more than we talked about my children, we talked about jobs and how we balanced out the world since she’s working two jobs and I don’t have one. We laughingly joked about people from our distant past, in that way we always used to, us against the world. It was, however, the first tentatively hesitant conversation between us since for the first time there were barriers, things that we would not talk about. I appreciated her discretion, and could still read between the lines. When we started catching up on people, she started telling me about a family member.

“I felt like I should give her another chance since that would be the Christian thing for me to do, especially if she’s had a change of heart. If she hasn’t had a change of heart though, that’s a different story,” she was saying. All of the sudden I wondered who we were talking about. I agreed with her and that was that. We could move on in the conversation, and without saying it, I knew that she was extending her friendship to me, no matter what, accepting the good and the bad.

She told me about how she had snuck into her now vacant childhood home, the house I had spent a day with her when the power went out at our school our freshman year. Talking about ourselves so long ago in a place I could remember so vividly gave me a somewhat distorted feeling. Here I am, no longer that awkward and foolishly silly girl, but now a wife and mother who talks on the phone while watching her toddler daughter run around outside, who is constantly snapped back into reality by distractions of kids and the outdoors, yet who still tries to connect and laugh with a best friend.

So much has changed and my life simply is so different than it used to be, but I was so thankful; she was my same old friend.