Bug

Saturday night I was checking the Enloe babies online to see if some of the women from our birthing class had delivered when Aaron saw a baby girl named Lily Joy. He got excited, "Look! Lily Joy!" I couldn't understand why he got such a kick out of it. He looked at me with the most confused expression on his face. "Our niece, Lily. Isn't Joy her middle name?" I genuinely had no idea. It sounded vaguely familiar, but I just know her as my Lily Bug. So, Sunday morning as my sister and I were sitting and talking, Lily bug squeezed by. I stopped her and asked "Lily, what is your middle name?"

She smiled sweetly and said "Bug. My name is Lily Bug."

Tuesday Afternoon

After spending several hours playing in thrift stores, my sister Andi and I went through the MacDonalds drive thru and got lunch for ourselves and her five daughters. We sat around her dining room table eating when Kung Fu Panda sparked this conversation:

Me: Oh, you might not like Jack Black after you hear this.

Andi: Oh no, what?

Me: Well you know how "Hollywood" is upset about Prop 8, they decided to make a musical about it. Jack Black plays "Jesus" and on one side of him is the stereo typical right-wing conservative "Christians" who pick and chose what they want to believe out of the Bible. On the other side, a group of "alternative lifestyle" people ( I didn't want to say gays in front of all the girls), and a bunch of tattooed, pierced and mohawked people.

Andi: Oh dear.

Me: It was pretty bad.

Lily: Mommy has tattoos!

Moriah: I bet Faith wants a horsey tattoo!

Me: ya, right on her bottom too I bet!

Faith: (rolls her eyes)

All the girls giggle.

Moriah: Ya, so she'll always be sitting on a horse!

I laughed so hard I almost puked. So did Andi. Moriah actually did.

Sent from my iPhone

The Dangers of Listening to Christmas Music

It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like...

...Christmas!

First things first... Dutch Brothers.

Our lovely self-portrait.

The finishing touch...

Ta-da!

Thirty-Two

My husband turned thirty-two Yesterday. All in all I think that he had a great birthday. It started out great and ended amazingly good too! It got me thinking about all the things that I treasure about my husband, things I probably never have told him. So, I made a list
(I absolutely love making lists!).

Here are thirty-two things I treasure about my husband:

1) He passionately loves God
2) He is steadfast (he wont give up on me, no matter how hard I try to push him away!)
3) Loves me abundantly
4) So very smart
5) So very, very, very hot
6) Loves to read
7) Loves my cooking
8) Supportive
9) He's my Super Hero
10) A very good provider
11) He humors me...

12) He's tender
13) He's romantic
14) He remembers dates and special events so I don't have to
15) He loves being a daddy
16) He's tall
17) He is so funny
18) He's very precise
19) Determined
20) Diligent
21) Super creative
22) Helps me out around the house when I'm having a hard time
23) Encouraging
24) Way more patient then I am
25) Silly
26) Learns how to cook for me when I need help
27) Did I mention Hot?...

28) Cute butt
29) Strong
30) Passionate
31) Faithful
32) Clever ( he teaches me so much!)

Okay, I've Heard of...

Half of an Hour, Half of a Sandwich, Half a Cup, Half of a Mind, Half of a Candy Bar, Half of a Teaspoon, Half Hearted and Half Crazed.

But Half of a Turkey?...

Only my Mom would.
But, in her defense, it's "fully cooked and flash frozen! All you have to do is defrost, heat and eat!"

Yep, That's My Hopie...

I Learned Something Today...

I learned that it only costs $9 to dispose of a little cat body at the Humane Society.

Ode To My Knuckle

Because I almost lost you--
more then once.
You rest on my left middle finger
all wrinkly and white, you’re my

fleshy loose skin with crevasses deep,
fold them over and you can sleep.
Oh, how rare and precious
the covering of my joint!

It happened one night, so clean and bright
snipping brown hair,
coarse and curly--
hugging me tight.

In a brief moment and swipe of my shears,
a gasp of horror led to tears.
I look and see as cool water clears
gushes of blood --

And my knuckle, hanging so free.


(It was an assignment two years ago or so. I had to write an Ode about something that meant a lot to me... just in case you were wondering)

Groucho Hopie

Hee, Hee, He...

No Rivalry

Finnegan already loves his baby sister!

Oh Dear, I've Turned into Stephanie...

"How Rude" seems to be my new internal dialogue. It even carries to voice of the child actress who first coined it in the late eighties. As I was sitting at home in between classes, I happened upon the Oprah Show. Now, please do not interpret my decision to continue watching her show as my loyalty to that woman, however, what caught my eye was the content of her discussion. Apparently, there has been this increased trend of rudeness in America. Who knew? (I say that sarcastically). They claim that 90% of Americans polled say that there was this "new" influx of rudeness. Of those same people polled, 80% are adamant that they are not rude themselves. Humm...so 10% of the people polled are responsible for the rudeness we all experience? And what about the other 10%?

It wasn't until I found myself pregnant that I began to notice the people around me. It's probably due to all those hormones, however, it seemed as though every where I went, I encountered extremely rude behavior. I found myself verbalizing my objections. Which would probably be considered rude as well. It began slowly in the Wal Mart parking lot. A car was tring to back out of the parking spot and another car sat waiting behind it. What was oblivious to the person waiting for the spot, the person in front of me and my husband, was the fact that they were blocking the car, preventing it from leaving the desired space. We sat. We waited "patiently". ten minutes later, still no movement in any direction. I was done. I was hot. I had to pee. I was hungry. I reached over my dear husband who was driving and punched in the horn. Several times. and then again. The car who was blocking the driver from backing out finally understood and drove off. We finally made it inside the store. And I quietly apologized to Aaron. He said pregnancy actually tamed me...

Incidents like this became increasingly overwhelming. Ranging from people blowing smoke in my direction as I walk to class, or should I say waddle to class. Why do they think a pregnant woman would appreciate cigarette smoke in her face? Then there are the people cutting in front of me as I waddle across the street to go to school. Even city buses seem to think it's ok to to drive into a pregnant woman.

Then it happened, I reached the pinnacle of rudeness at the fabric store one night with my sister Andi and oldest niece, Moriah. It was my idea to go to Dutch Brothers before the store, needless to say about twenty minutes inside, I really had to "go". I made it to the back of the store where the bathroom was, and waited. From inside the single bathroom came the loud voice of an older woman. At first, I thought there were two people in the one room, then I realized that what I was hearing was a cell phone conversation. This went on for about ten minutes. Then She yelled out, "There isn't even any toilet paper in here!". A young male employee walked by me and I grabbed him and asked for the paper. He politely smiled and handed me some, then asked if I was waiting for the person in the room, or for the room it's self. I said I was waiting for the room. He said "good luck" and went on with his work. I gently knocked on the door and the old lady popped her head out, cell phone in hand and I handed her the paper. "How did you know?" she asked. I smiled and said I heard her. She disappeared into the bathroom and continued her business and conversation. This went on for over ten minutes. Moriah showed up to check on me and to throw her cup in the garbage. We waited. Finally Moriah asked why I didn't just knock. I told her that I didn't want to be rude. She rolled her eyes and knocked very loudly on the door, then hide behind the corner as soon as the door swung open. I was caught wide-eyed and flustered for words. What happened next was this:

"What do you want?" She snapped, "What are you waiting for?"

"Well," I said, after clearing my throat " People generally use the bathroom to go to the bathroom in."

At this point, Moriah and the woman's granddaughter appeared. Instinctively I held onto my belly as the old woman proceeded to yell at me. Her granddaughter broke in and asked if they could please go now. The woman finally gathered her things, mumbled something of an apology, well, it was more of an excuse saying she was having an "upsetting" phone call. In the bathroom? Anyway, she didn't even flush. How rude!

Humm...

My husband is Hot!

Just don't tell him I said that, he might actually think that I like him :)

God is Here

Most nights I just lay awake, listening to the sound of my husband snoring loudly beside me. Once in a while, I'd fling my arm over and punch him, either aiming for his chest, back (depending on how he's laying) or his face. Most of the time, he doesn't alter his sleeping, maybe he'd soften his snoring a little, or on those rare occasion's he'd wake up long enough to ask "what?" before falling asleep again.
I would continue laying a wake in the dark for another hour or so. With each passing minute, the deeper my heart sinks into despair. I have dealt with depression for the majority of my life, I think the last time I was truly free from the suffocation and fog of this consuming darkness was when I was five. But, this time it's different. My "good days" seem to be getting shorter and the time between them longer. When I cry, it's heavy and comes from so deep within I feel as though I am being torn a part. I feel...hopeless. I'm not convinced that I am hopeless, but for others who have not experienced this, that might be the only description I have words for.
I recently read 'The Rare Jewel of Christian Contentment' by, Jeremiah Burroughs. He wrote deeply and beautifully on what the character of a Christian ought to be. The one thing that has buried it's self into my heart is this, he writes:
"It is suitable to my heart to yield to God and to be content."
It is suitable to my heart, that is why I am not hopeless. God is here. God is here and I am content.

I caught her...

Some of you know by now that Aaron and I had our ultra sound appointment today, we saw Ava Marie in all her glory! But what you don't know is what happened durring the visit. For the past several weeks, when Ava would kick or punch me, it wasn't those soft little flutters most women gab about. She has force behind those jabs and I was convinced that they were deliberate and planed. The ultra sound tech was amazed at how active she was and asked if this (10:30) was her "busy" time, I said all day was her "busy" time and we continued to watch her wiggle. The tech laughed and point at the monitor, "see her hand? She's feeling around for something." I shook my head and said that Ava was probably looking for a place to hit me. To the tech's amazment, Ava then made a fist...

Snowflakes

Put all I am into a box—
And what would I have?

          Confusion.

Groping around, as if I were blind.
Arms prostrate, fingers able but in search
Of some elusive beast.

          Or a hidden treasure.

Images, painted in my mind of daffodils,
Delicately dancing out of a Wordsworth poem.
But, if I am blind,

          How vast is the daffodil?

As tires spin around the pavement—
Leaving their stationary mark;
I spin. With impunity, leaving my mark.

          Going nowhere.

A glance resounds like the thunder, or church bells.
Do I need someone, to define who I am?
Would they be better equipped—

          More capable?

Or is my definition in who they are?
To melt myself away,
Like snowflakes

          In a childhood memory.

I had to stop counting...

I had my amazing husband take me to Bed Bath & Beyond last night to get one of those over-the-door purse organizers. I thought it was sufficient to get only one, which held 16 purses. I think I was in denial. When we got home, Aaron did man work and put the thing together while I sat down infront of the closet going through my bags. We quickly filled the organizer and to my disbelief, I had a lot remaining to be hung up. My sweet husband didn't say much, he just nodded when I said "I think I have more then twenty". He told me that we can get another organizer and put it on the hall closet door. I haven't told him yet that when I got to thirty, I stopped counting altogether...no wonder when I see a cute bag I want to buy he distracts me from it.

My insecurity, I guess...

I was watching one of those morning shows the other day and the topic was a debate on how should you accept the relics of your partners past relationships. On one side was the mindset that if your married, then both you and your partner ought to toss out the old love letters and such, creating room for each other. On the other hand, the ruling majority said that was unacceptable. Their question was: how can you possible ask, or demand that your husband/wife throw out pieces of themselves to appease your insecurities.
How I see it, when I was being first wooed by my husband, I went through my boxes, my photos and computer files in attempt to delete my past mistakes (relationships), praying that I could delete the memories too. And after we were married and I was settling in, I did it nervously because I still feared I had missed something, somewhere. I did this, not so much for my husband but for myself. You see, I was and am still ashamed and deeply grieved for giving all of who I was to someone who couldn't love me, because I wasn't purposed for them. They were not the husband that God had made for me and I for them. So to me, the idea of a husband or wife still clinging onto, and avoiding throwing out those love notes and such is a shame and a dishonor to their spouse, whose heart no doubtably breaks every time they come across photos or pieces of paper lamenting over their spouses love for someone else and their deep desire to marry them.

My husband said good-bye...

As I'm starting my fifteenth week of pregnancy, I found that I had run out of excuses as to why I had not begun work on the nursery. So, a few days ago my husband gently suggested that we work on it this weekend. I sighed and then with a smile I said 'sure!' What goes into creating the nursery is what actually goes out...his office. First, we did a little rearranging in the front room (okay, I sat and pointed where things go and my dear husband did the rest). Then, more heavy lifting as the core of his office migrated out into the living room. There still is a tremendous amount of work that remains to be done, however, it is a start and a beautiful one at that!

Blog picture

My husbands obsession, My aversion...

I, as many have had past experiences with the Internet which left a bitter taste in my mouth. So, it's odd that I would marry a software engineer. Leaving the past behind isn't necessarily as easy as you would think. My husband spends his days at work sitting in front of two big monitors and as soon as he gets home from work (after I push him off me), he goes into his office and sits in front of two big monitors and his macbook. I have to call him at least two times before he joins me for dinner. I love my husband dearly, but honestly, I was glad his macbook died, I thought that it was one less thing that he sits in front of, and not next to me.
I had finally told him last night that I needed him to be with me, to spend time with me and not with his computer, or talking excessively about it. After he disappeared into his office twice and giving him 'the look' he sat next to me on the couch as we prepared to watch our favorite show. This is when he pulled out his iPhone. He was going to twit with it-or whatever.
I can't tell him about the dark anxiety I have when he spends all day online. I guess what frustrates me is that he is forcing me to trust when I don't know how. I don't know what he's doing online, he doesn't tell me anything. It's odd, I can't even text my sister without him getting...persistent. However, he dose things and doesn't think to tell me whats going on. When I try to tell him why I have bad feelings about the Internet, he tells me "I'm not like that, I could never do that to you." But, the thing is, I've heard that before and I know how that situation turned out.

In reflecting on my thoughts, I am coming to a bigger understanding of who I am and the vast faults that consume me.

What I saw last night

After the Wednesday night prayer meeting at my sisters house, she and I went to JoAnn's to look at fabric for curtains. We got home a little after 9pm, we hugged and I walked to my car which was parked on the side of the road. A big fluffy, beautiful black and white cat was sniffing around my car, I turned to say something to my sister and in that second, a car going 40 m/h in a 25, residential road hit the cat. The car didn't slow down or even hesitate. I ran inside to get help and on my way back I picked up a big stick, as if I was going to stand in the middle of the road, in the dark to protect the cat.
My sister stood next to me and I held my breath as I gently poked the cat, hoping with all I had the she would move or faintly meow. She didn't. She was dead. Her big furry body laid motionless in a spreading pool of crimson blood. I held the flashlight as Andi pushed the cat into a small cardboard box, then closed the lid.
I knew the cat. She had just given birth to a cuddly litter of kittens.
I went home, with pregnancy hormones raging and I held our cat, Finnegan, tighter then he would perhaps had liked.

I saw my baby

We had an ultrasound on Wednesday. Mom and Dad Lord, by Gods grace were in town and able to go with us to the appointment. I wasn't as embarrassed as I thought I would be. I laid down, in the most vulnerable position ever, but the moment our child appeared on the screen, it was as if nothing else mattered. The baby is so beautiful and full of life. our child couldn't stop moving and dancing. I know it's not realistic, but it almost felt like s/he was preforming for his/er parents and grandparents.
That appointment blessed us all. Dad had never seen an unborn baby and mom only saw one or two of Katie's babies. My parents have been preoccupied with other events at this point so it helped me abundantly to feel safe, and loved by my new parents (Mom and Dad Lord!) by having them there, with us. I am so thankful that we got to experience this blessing with them.
The heartbeat is as strong as ever.
I'm almost eleven weeks and due January 24th/25th.

I heard my baby's heartbeat today

Periodically during these first ten weeks, I would call my sister and ask: are you sure I am pregnant?
The thing was, I hardly had any symptoms at all. Just extreme fatigue, shortness of breath, a constant full bladder and hormone surges (my dear husband says they keep life interesting). Our first Doctors appointment was at ten fifteen, needless to say, I was up just before seven. On the way, I told my husband that I hoped we could hear the baby's heartbeat, just so I could be really sure that I was with child.
After the standard check in procedure, we were lead into our Doctors office. we had just seen him in early April, told him we wanted a family so he set us up with a plan of action. As we sat down in front of his desk, he promptly said, "That was fast" (we had a positive pregnancy test May eighteenth). At the end of my exam, he brought out the hand held machine that could pick up our baby's heart beat. He moved it around my belly for a while, I was holding my breath. I had a sinking feeling that we might not be blessed with the precious sound of a beating heart. Then it happened, it was a dull, faint rapid beat. Our Doctor moved the thing around, adjusted the volume, then suddenly from the center of my belly was the hearty dub dub of our baby.

11

There is a time
between hazy gray
and decision.

When all stands still,
and things are weighed.
The unimportance of most directions--

Consequences stem.
Even stoic souls
are prone to decay;

If lingered in this debate.

The Perfect Husband

In attempt to convert the office into a nursery, I stumbled upon several portfolios from junior high. As a student then and as someone who has her degree in Liberal Studies, a minor in English and several little AA's, I still have no clue as to why teachers insist on forcing students to put together these portfolios. Especially since the quality of work is not taught, reinforced and expected upon!
However, as I sat on the couch with my feet up, I found in a portfolio I did when I was twelve, a short paper (if you can call it that!) entitled, 'The Perfect Husband'. I must admit that as I was reading it, the pregnancy hormones hit in full force and I quickly found myself both crying and laughing at the same time. I wanted to share this paper and have decided to reveal it in its full, unabashed glory, with horrid grammar and abundant misspellings.

The Perfect Husband

the following are things that I would like and hopefully get in a husband wicth is unlikly but it wouldnt hurt to try.

the perfiect husband would have to be romantic so he could sweep me of my feet.
caring because every body needs caring,

inthusiastic because if nobody was inthusiastic the wourld would be boring,
Loving because every baody needs loving,

Kind because i need some one to be kind to me,
genrues because he could give to the underprivalidged.

good sence of hummer because when I come home frome a heard day of work, he could make me laught,
outgoing because I'm outgoing.

Smart because I could learn frome him and he could learn frome me
He would have to be clean because if he was dirty it would be a turn off.

Butiful not inner but outer,
organized because he would have to keep things neat.

he would have to be good at basket ball so we could play together,
foot ball so I could watch, and Base ball so I could watch.

and in conclusion,
my husband would have to be like me.


All I can really say in response to that is, God is good. He made for me a most special, amazing, loving and caring husband (he's super hot too!). Even when I am not those things to him, he is patient with me. Isn't God sovereign? He knew what kind of man I needed, even before I was formed!
God is good.

Snowstorm

(A Dedication)

The stars fall like snow,

Accumulating on the ground—

Leaving their home.

There is not a word left—

Only disappearing breath

And I alone.

I caused the stars to fail.

Told them to give up—

They shine with no avail.

I whispered the words

That were whispered to me—

With a mouthful of deceit.

I watched them fall

With eyes that watched me.

A 1930's Wife

I wonder how I'd score as a 1930's husband...

106 As a 1930s wife, I am Very Superior Take the test!

Barren

(an introduction)

I was nineteen when I was diagnosed with polycystic ovarian syndrome.
I was told that I had less then a ten percent chance of being fertile. I spent all my energy convincing myself that it was ok, that I didn’t want children anyway. Because of my syndrome, I weighed 260 pounds; that included diet and exercise. By the grace of God I lost 130 pounds and began taking medication in attempt to further change the body I was given.
Now, I'm 28 years old, married since January 12, 2008 and seven weeks pregnant. I feel as though I go about my day holding my breath, cautious of everything and careful; fearing miscarriage. I struggled greatly in the first couple of weeks, thinking that I am only pregnant just so I can loss the baby. My sister who has given birth six times, and has five beautiful girls gave me comfort. She said that I could rest in God's perfect plan. This is the first bit of trust we must learn as mommies. I felt like I could finally breathe, for the first time since the double pink lines appeared on the test stick.
The focus of my mind changed. Instead of living in fear, I began to pray and every night as I lay next to my husband, I thank God for allowing me to be a mom, even if it's just for that day.
I thank God.