how vast is the daffodil?

I'm moving.

2011-12-31T20:24:00.001-08:00

http://howvast.wordpress.com/

A Sneak Peek at A-Frame of Mind

2011-09-07T21:19:00.001-07:00

The story is a little funny, at least from a distance. I can't remember exactly when we realized we had outgrown our small two bedroom apartment, but it's never been more evident then this last year. Personally, I hadn't minded being cooped up here, but the kids have. Since Ava started walking she took to running laps around our couch all day long and now Baxter has joined her in this common occurrence. I've tried to explain to them that our allergies are so sever it's best to stay in-doors. However, God created children to run free and unabashed. And it seems with my babies, they each got a double dose of this hard wiring.

After getting our finances where they needed to be, which I thought would be the hard part of home buying, we began our search. To say I was wrong about the hard part would be an understatement. Going on-line we found a sweet little bungalow near where our friends live. Little being the operative word. So was bungalow. On the bright side, we found our Relator. We quickly opted for a home in Paradise, a beautiful A-Frame home. To be honest, I never gave those types of homes any notice. But Aaron loved it the moment he saw the photos on-line. It wasn't until we drove up to the house that I fell for it too. It was the first home we put an offer on. It was also the first heartbreak we had in home-buying.

We were too late. It was a short sale and the owner accepted an offer just before ours and we fell into the "back-up" slot. Completely devastated we continued searching for the home that was meant for our family. We saw houses, condos- you name it, we saw it. We had even put in several offers but nothing materialized. I was so completely frustrated and swore I'd never look at any more homes again.

But then, we got word the bank foreclosed on the owner, rejected the original offer and took the property off the market. Then it happened. Three very long months later the house came back on the market. Frantic we scramble to get everything in order and our sweet Relator worked hard for us. The second offer we submitted was rejected, felt my heart break all over again. Turns out they changed the type of mortgage. Even quicker we rushed to change the paper work and for the third time, we put in our offer.

I got the news from a text Aaron sent me. It was simple: Guess what.
I knew what he was telling me but I held my breath. We got it! We got it. Those three little words filled me with great joy and great trepidation at the same time.

So, We are moving from a two bedroom apartment to a three bedroom house in the foothills. That is, we are moving from my home town of Chico California, to Paradise California, which is just up the hill from Chico. What made me decide we needed to buy this home was it reminded me of the ski chalet we spent the first night of our honeymoon in before heading up to Oregon where ‘Goonies’ had been filmed. Our daughter, Ava, was born on our first wedding anniversary so we haven’t ever really been able to celebrate our time together and with this home, I feel as though it’s a daily visual reminder of our love and covenant we share.

The house is absolutely beautiful; unfortunately the same thing that makes our future home amazing also makes it frustrating: It’s an A-frame.

But, you know, we are in escrow so anything can happen...

My Dear Sweet Boy a.k.a Terry Bradshaw

2011-08-30T21:22:00.001-07:00

I had perhaps put it off too long. But this was something that I as a mother had not experienced until now. I had been a hair dresser for over ten years and part of that time I worked in a kids salon. I can't even begin to recall how many first haircuts I've given. I had gotten to the point where all I had to do was look at the child and would be able to know exactly how it would go. There were the screamers, the climbers and the terrified. With each case there were perks and draw backs. With the screamers, you'd have a headache the rest of the day, the climbers you were destined to cut yourself and with the terrified, you'd have their frozen expression of pure terror suck in your mind, knowing YOU were the reason why they'd have nightmares when they went to bed that night. But with each case, I'd just jump in, work my fastest as I tripped over worried parents and dodging cameras. I think there was just a handful of times that I wasn't able to finish a haircut. With experience you can tell the moment they walk up to you. With this experience, I would ignore the parents instruction for their child's 1 fade to finger length on top and get a 3 on the sides and back before being kicked and punched.

So for the last month, I watched my son. He's such a sweet child who cries if you look at him the wrong way. And of course, he has my hair, fine and very blond. The kind of blond most hair dressers dread.

With his blond hair growing wildly on the sides and back, I couldn't ignore the fact that my sweet child looked more and more like Terry Bradshaw with every passing day.

This was it. My in laws are visiting for the weekend and I figured it just had to be done.

My husband has his own set of over the counter Wahl's so I knew it would be better to use those instead of my industrial Oster's. Although, I do miss the grind of my clippers, their weight in my hand and the comforting smell of grease. It was an odd feeling for me. I held his clippers in my hand as Baxter sat unknowingly in Grandma Lord's lap. Since I retired from cosmetology, it was rare for me to cut hair. It had been years since I last stood behind an over-grown head. I found the guard, snapped it on and set the clippers down. I have a favorite set of shears and setting both pairs next to each other and then separately holding each one up to study the blade before selecting my favorite. I knew I wouldn't be able to do anything too fancy with Baxter but I wanted to cut off some of the rear comb-forward and that required shears. Just slipping my fingers into the handle, I knew this just might be one of the last haircuts I was to give. I hadn't felt that kind of restricted pain before but as it shot through my hand and fingers, my arm seized with familiarity. I ignored the pain, set down my shears and grabbed the clippers. Looking at my beautiful son I turned the Whal's on and tried to show my son how they worked. This did not go over well. I'll let you decide what kind of kid he is by the pictures:

Shifting into stylist mode I dove in and got to work. The haircut didn't take long and as I trimmed the top of his blond locks, Daddy watched nervously. As soon as I was done I swooped my baby into my arms and flooded him with kisses. After he settled down we showed him how handsome he was with his new haircut. Turns out, he couldn't have cared less however, I can't stop looking at my boy and am in awe how a simple haircut could make such a difference. When I look at my child, I no longer see my baby, I see my sweet toddler. My little man, my pumpkin growing-up. I do miss the cuddle bug baby but at the same time I'm amazed how big my son is and as I pull him down off the desk for the tenth time today, I'm eager to see all he grows into.

And I Held My Breath

2011-08-11T21:02:00.001-07:00

Sitting in the exam room I felt myself hoping for another surgery. It's not as though I love having surgeries, in fact, I dread them. Praying hard for the two weeks after my MRI, I begged God to open the surgeons eyes and help him see what's shown in the abstract black and white jungle on the screen.

A torn tendon would be simple. It's torn. The surgeon goes in, sews it up and my arm is fixed! The last five years of living in pain that has prevented me from being a wife and mother is finished, as if my prison sentence is fulfilled and I am released to be a functioning member of society. Although, I have forgotten how.

My stomach in knots, I pull out my eyeglasses and put them on. I sat fidgeting until he walked in.
Briskly he opened the door and made little attempt at small talk as he opened my chart and wheeled his stool next to me.

He reviewed the notes from my MRI and then he walked me thru what they read. Some scarring where my cubital tunnel/carpal tunnel surgery was, which was normal. I thought it odd how normal it was, after all, the reason for that surgery was to remove five inches of scar tissue that had compressed my ulnar nerve to less than half it's normal size. He also brushed off the finding of a bone spur and finished by saying my arm looked normal. My heart sank as he turned off the light and pulled up my MRI images. He nodded in agreement with the report: no visible signs of tearing.

In that instant I felt like I had when my problems first began. The numbness and tingling came about so gradual that it was hard for me to even pinpoint exactly when it started. Then the twinge of pain crept up in my elbow and wrist. And the weakness. And sensitivity. I had gotten to the point that during each haircut I would pause, drop my right arm down and shake it. I did this so often that I wasn't even aware I was doing it. During the last few hours of my shift I found it necessary to excuses myself from haircuts and stifle tears as I rummaged in the break-room for Ibuprofen.

I sat in bed, icing my arm after a long shift trying to relax, center myself in hope I could curb whatever it was that threatened my vocation. What this pain was I couldn't describe it. I didn't have the words to tell the Doctor what was going on. The pain was now constant. It only varied mildly in severity and even it's location. All my fingers were numb with a sharp pain in my wrist that felt like I was wearing a bracelet of fine wire that was cutting into my wrist down to the bone. My elbow hurt in every position it made. At times it felt as if a sledge hammer was crushing my joint. Other times the pain was piercing, sending streaks of pain throughout my forearm. But in every case, the pain spread it's way up my arm and stretched to my shoulder, neck and lower head. And every night after hours of tossing, trying to find a place that would help me sleep, I always ended up in the shower with the hot water cranked as high as it could go.

For the first two years of this, I was seeing workman's compensation Doctors at Enloe. Every week it was a new Doctor and every week it was a new diagnosis. I didn't know what to do. I cried a lot. Not only was I in ceaseless agony, I was slowly being pulled away from the one thing I was really good at. I was a hairstylist. I was in my element with hair and I did my job with ease and skill and my client list was longer then I had realized. But now, this thing that I loved, my body just couldn't do and no Doctor could tell me why.

My surgeon flipped the lights back on but I was still in the state of confusion and hopelessness I was in five years ago. I choked back the impending tears and I asked him how long ago had he done my surgery. Nine months ago. Then what's wrong with me? Is this just tendinitis? I don't understand. I feel the same as before my surgery. The only difference is the tingling in my fingers has subsided.

He nodded. Wheeled closer to me again and examined my arm. Pressing, stretching and manipulating my useless arm. "Yes. I'd say it's tendinitis," he answered. "Don't lose hope. We'll treat it with the shots. We might need to really work on this tendon but for now, I'll give you the injection and come back in a month and we'll see where you are."

Four long years I felt alone. Hurting and thinking that I was the only one who believed what I was going through. I felt overwhelming relief and joy when I had my second nerve condition test. The first one was done very poorly and rudely since it was a workman's comp Doctor. This second one was done years later by a specialist who, after testing my right arm and finding it tested borderline he looked at me and said it didn't seem right so he tested my left arm to get a comparison. And thats when my heart leapt for joy! Right there, it was evident that my right arm was so much slower then my left arm and my diagnosis was clear: cubital tunnel.

I longed to have that same relief again. I wanted a clear answer. I sincerely believe that tendinitis dose not inflict this amount of pain. Although I understand that the difficulty of diagnosing my arm lies in the fact that there's multiple things going wrong with it. Each problem needing to be fixed in order to see the next issue. I still found myself begging God for a clear and simple answer.

These past years, my prayers have ended the same way: me begging God and His silence. But I still pray, and I wait.

The Siege and Uncertainty.

2011-08-04T20:09:00.001-07:00

As I lay here, in my darkened room I realized I'm in a very difficult moment in my life. I have ran out of my pain medication again and find myself waiting on the pharmacy, again. The relentless pain drilling into a blurry throb I am tearing up and relying on God. I had, in the past relied on Him unknowingly. That is, I lived in chaos. I was lost in my depression; fueling it with alcohol, endless nights, self inflicting torment and inward rage. Never calling on my Heavenly Father to protect me and save me. My soul had called out for God and relied on Him.

This is vastly different. Every step I take I am praying and actively urging myself to rely on Gods strength and wisdom. From buying a home to dealing with my hated arm and everything in-between.

Perhaps one can live their life without relying wholly or even partially on God. However, as I live in a siege of pain, uncertainty and depression; I would be a fool if I didn't run to God.

A Mild Disclaimer

2011-06-22T21:18:00.001-07:00

As a comment to my Blog link on Facebook, I wrote:

The thing about Depression that I'm afraid of the most is it's secrecy. Secrecy implies shame and shame implies wrong doing. At first I hesitated publishing this blog post because I was afraid of what others might think, if I'd scare them or usher them to action in calling CPS. But the thing is, I have done nothing wrong and despite the workings of my brain, I am a good mommy. For years I had longed for someone to tell me that's it's ok, & I'm not alone. Living under a shroud of secrecy is so binding and isolating. I hope someone benefits from my post. Recognize they need to talk openly, candidly and get the help that's out there so they no longer fell like I had. So when the Bible says that we have been set free, they can fully understand it and fully feel their freedom.

I feel as though it is necessary to publish it here as well, just to qualify my previous blog entry. You know, "just in case".

And It Never Stops.

2011-06-19T18:54:00.001-07:00

It's just too hard and exhausting. As if my body wasn't heavy enough, weighed down with lead and my mind a deepening grey fog I just can't see past. I have to hold it all together, pretend everything is good. And for as much as it looks like I'm not holding things together, there's a cracking dam with the weight of fifty monsoons held behind it that you don't see.

But I'm desperate to hide what's going on and it takes more energy than I have. With two sweet babies to care for, every action and emotion I live is nothing more than ammunition against me. And with everything able to trigger an outburst of anger and tears, I try to let little things brush off. But most of the time, I'm unsuccessful. It's those little things that some how carry more than they ought to. I've lost it, breaking down over too many boxes of cereal or anticipating a treat which never comes and even missing a green light when I had nowhere important to be. But, it's the uncontrollable sobbing I hate and it lingers for days.

When I was first married, I tried to hide my tears. Locking myself in our bathroom I would turn on the faucet and shower. I tried so hard to keep my tears and the deep sadness that can only be vocalized in aching moans muffled under the sound of steady water. He knew. And he didn't quit understand. After three years of marriage he still doesn't understand and to be honest, I'm not sure I do either. I've tried so hard to recall a moment from my childhood where I was completely, fully happy. The kind of unabashed happiness that only a child could feel. And I came up empty handed for so long, I stopped trying.

Depression is something I've lived with for almost my whole life. It was normal, my normal and I thought that was how everyone felt. Many afternoons were spent laying on the fresh grass, feeling the leaves under my body, sliding thru my fingertips and watching the perfect soft white clouds float by while I fantasized about killing myself. Just to finally be done, to see past the iron fog and be free. My fantasies gave me comfort.

It wasn't until Junior High when I was finally given the label of depression. And it was that label which caused many people to tell me that I have this illness because of a secret, un-repented sin. It was when a family member told me that all I had to do was repent to God and my illness would go away, I listened. I repented for everything I could think of and even things I hadn't done but I possibly would do. I begged God but God hadn't taken this thing away, so I hid. I spent too many years closed off, living shackled to an illness I did not want.

I spent my early adult years going on and off my medication and drinking. Drinking so much I never remembered what happened those nights. Each night before going out I knew, I knew I wanted to drink until I forgot. I wanted to forget me.

It was the grace of God that delivered me from those circumstances and gave my life accountability. When I was twenty-eight I married the man I had always dreamed of. I met him at church years ago and I knew that night, that Halloween night he was the man God made me for. He didn't even know I was alive. When we both finally grew up we met again and a little over three months after our first date we were married.

It wasn't until after I was married and had my children that I saw a mental health professional. She explained that I had moderate to sever depression. This was nothing new to me. I even have a family history of mental illness. She adjusted my medication and what she said next was the most comforting thing I have ever heard. She told me that I am not "broken" or "defective" as I spent my life believing. She looked me in the eye and said: your fantasies of suicide are just symptoms of your illness. They are there to tell you something is wrong and your medication needs to be checked. She adjusted my medication, added a booster which is not in generic form and thus costing a little over a hundred dollars a month. Yes, those pills are worth it but the guilt is what is more costly. That money is being taken away from my kids, the household finances and is squandered solely on me. As if I did not feel selfish enough, with my many illnesses, physical problems and destructive emotional baggage. I feel it's as if Aaron would spend over a hundred dollars on allergy medicine every month just because he has a runny nose. Somehow, the booster just doesn't seem so worth it anymore. Not when there's diapers needed and fresh fruits and vegetables and clothes for my children because they just grow too fast.

My children, my babies. I never thought I would have these two incredible kids. And it was 'my babies' I answered when the Doctor asked me what stops me. The answer seemed obvious, a truth buried so deep in my heart and mind I didn't even need to think about it. Looking at me closely, she asked: When you think about killing yourself, what stops you from doing it.

I didn't expect my throat to close up, to spasm as I replied, Who would take care of my babies?I'm their mommy.

Out of the suffocating life of a disassembled, in-cohesive mind, that one clear truth is solid. The depressed mind is different. We process things in away that makes no sense to us. My mind is weak and unsteady. It seems as though everything is defined differently for me. My bad days do not stand for having a bad hair day or a series of inconvenient incidents. My bad days are marked by me being numbed, laying in bed and staring at the same spot on the wall for hours. Being drained of everything to the point when the tears trickle down my face on their own accord and not caring enough to stop them, not being able to stop them. My bad days are marked by me longing to die. And my good days, I'm dressed and able to smile, even if its for a moment.

Since my mind processes things differently, when I read "The Yellow Wallpaper", I honestly couldn't see that where she was, was a mental institution. I just didn't see it as everyone else did. And because of this, I am constantly assessing my responses and behaviors. I have a mental script of how normal people would react and I follow that to a large extent.

My husband asks me if I've taken my pills, usually when I have a normal response to something he's done or said, or didn't do. That's when I reassess my response, just in case and yes, it's what a "normal" wife would do, I angrily yell, YES! Because what he's really saying to me is he's perfect in his behavior and I'm just the crazy wife. Then I quietly think, did I? I think I took them when I gave Ava her Tinker Medicines. I must be taking them, my thirty day supply is steadily decreasing...

My Little Lost Boy

2011-05-24T01:21:00.000-07:00

I was more than uncomfortable, I was miserable. Every few minutes I'd squirm and re-adjust my fat butt and even fatter belly. Nothing helped. Trying to focus on the finale of 'Lost' did not help either. I continued to push the excitement and fear out of my mind. Taking slow, deep silent breathes I tried to mentally prepare myself. We were scheduled to meet our son, Baxter in the morning. In my mind, I played the birth of our daughter over and over, taking mental notes of what I needed to do differently. Her birth was fast, a little painful but terrifying. By time I was moved out of triage, into a delivery bed and my neubane shot administered, she came. Ava came so fast I was not able to center myself, breath, focus and my pain medicine hadn't even had a chance to kick in. But this time would be different. It HAD to be different.

I took a deep breath, cuddled a little closer to my husband. Listening to the comforting thump of his heartbeat, I watched the last few minutes of the show with security. The security only a husband could give. Well, that and the knowledge that I was just several hours away from my inducement. I was relieved, knowing I would be in that hospital bed with my pain medicine and a chance to prepare during labor.

The show ended. Looking at the blank screen we were somewhat bewildered. Shaking my head I stood up. "Is that it? THAT'S how they wanted to end it? Whatever."

Laying in bed, waiting for Aaron to lock up I was feeling so lonely without Ava in the house. I also felt like I could not empty my bladder. As he nestled in bed next to me I contemplated making yet one more trip to the bathroom before surrendering to sleep. With a sound of frustration I flung back the covers, grabbed onto the bed post and hoisted myself up.

As I walked out of the bathroom I peeked inside the kids' room. I stood looking at Ava's empty crib. Soon, there would be another baby in that room. Turning to our bedroom, the strongest, loudest contraction overwhelmed my body. Grabbing onto the wall I braced myself. I breathed, closed my eyes and as soon as the contraction ended my body tried to push the baby out. I had missed the sign my water had broken. Perhaps I expected it to be like in the movies or on the television. Getting down the stairs and into the car was harder than I thought it to be. It was a dark, cold clear night and I struggled to keep myself from succumbing to what my body needed to do.

Possibly the worst experience of my life to date, but it was worth every F-bomb. Especially the one F-bomb which lasted five whole minutes. Baxter decided he did not want to wait six hours. Apparently, I had the look of a woman laboring as we made our way through the emergency room. Various strangers in various stages of emergency watched, stared as we headed straight to the Security stand which blocked our path to the Maternity Ward. The guard looked slightly stunned as he asked if I needed a wheelchair. Trying to smile the question off I mumbled the baby would come before he got us the chair. And waddled as fast as I could down the hall and thru the double doors.

At the desk I told her my name and it seemed they had lost my previously dropped off Admit paperwork. Standing there legs crossed I preceded to fill out the forms for the second time. Glancing at the triage waiting area I noticed a quiet, very pregnant young girl. Her face betrayed the fear she was holding in as she watched me. Trying to smile as not to scare her I looked at the nurse behind the desk and calmly stated that this baby was coming, RIGHT NOW. skipping me past triage they placed me in the delivery room they continued to call the on-call Doctor.

Being reassured he was on the way, I continued to stress the fact I wanted my neubane shot. NOW. I was and still am in shock at the unprofessional attitude of the nurses. More then once I was on the receiving end of snarky comments. They liked to point out that I was taking them away from their patients. Patients who were in labor before me, and thus ahead of me on their list.

Meanwhile, Baxter was on his way out and I was ordered to hold him in, breathe like I was blowing out a candle and wait for the Doctor. I remember pleading with the nurses to just let me push him out, all they had to do was stand there and catch him. When the on-call Doctor came, I felt relieved. However, that was short lived. I asked if I could PLEASE start pushing NOW, his reply: whenever. whenever, what kind of answer was that? So I pushed. I looked to the Doctor for guidance, he just sat there, waiting to catch the baby. Looking to Aaron, I asked how Schwabe did it. Was it three pushes and a rest? I think that was right. After flailing around, cussing and hurting a nurse I met my son in less than an hour.

He hurt, more than I thought he would. I actually was mad at the little big-headed boy. Soon Ava arrived and was able to meet her new little brother. She didn't know exactly how to react, but she did want to pick him up, hold him and kiss him, we let her. Since it was after one am, we had to let Ava go back to Grandma's and get to sleep. They gave me my after birth pills and sent me off to my private room. It was there where I was able to have our quiet, intimate bonding time. The sweet moments where I felt the deepest love for my son since he was born.

I could go on and on with more complaints of the hospital staff, but this blog post is in celebration of the birth of my sweet Baxter Isaac.

The hospital was quiet, lights in my room dimmed, and Aaron asleep on the pull-out. I laid Baxter on my chest, gently unwrapped him. Counting his toes on his chubby little feet, studying every sweet curve and dimple. Kissing his soft skin, trying not to wake him, but secretly hoping he would. Marveling at his blonde hair and dimpled chin, I held him to my heart, feeling his small heart beating, hearing it's rhythm, I fell asleep.

Born at 1:21am
7 lb 4oz 19in

I Know You Will Not Read This

2011-05-10T22:57:00.001-07:00

But there are things I need to say to you. It took me so long to finally breakdown the wall which stood between our friendship. You were the only Dad I had. I don't remember my birth father all that much. Although I am thankful for the blocked memories of my childhood, I have carried around the pain my whole life. Because of what we lived through before you, it made it so hard for me to let you into my heart.

When I first met you, I was nervous and terrified. There were so many thoughts and questions flooding my mind, making it hard to focus. I hid. I didn't want to meet you because I was afraid I would grow to love you and then you'd leave. Do you remember that day? I close my eyes and I am instantly brought back to that moment. You brought us ice cream. You drove from Sacramento to meet us and take our mom on a date. I was on edge the whole afternoon, picking out the solid chunks of cookie dough, leaving the vanilla ice cream till the end. Waiting for your date to be over, waiting to see how my mom truly felt for you. But mostly, waiting to see how I felt for you.

My heart yearned to be close to you but as a defense, I withdrew and made life hard. For that I apologize. I don't believe you will ever fully understand how much you accepting us meant. You chose to love my sister and I, not out of obligation to our mother but because you grew to love us as if we were your children. When you called me Baby Girl, I knew to the core of who I was that I truly belonged.

My favorite part of the day was dinner time. You'd come home, turn on music and pull my mom away from making dinner to dance with you. You held her tight, twirled her around and both laugh so genuinely your eyes sparkled. I watched. I saw you love. And I watched you slowly fade away. You stopped dancing, you stopped laughing. It happened seemingly so gradually that our normal consisted of you coming home from work, shutting yourself away in your office only to be bothered by one of us bringing you dinner.

You stood with me at my wedding, so nervous I shook and words could not find their way. My Dad looked at me. You looked at me and asked if I was alright. Perhaps I should have asked that of you.

I know now you weren't alright, you haven't been for years. That my life as I knew it was pretend. You showed up for my wedding, the birth of my children but you weren't fully there. We only had the shell of you while the real you was in Sacramento.

It shouldn't be hard for you to understand that you did not only betray my mom, you betrayed all of us. The life you have chosen broke so many little hearts. Hearts that believed you were their world. So many tears have been shed. So many words have been yelled and you are not here to see them, to feel their sting, to look me in the eye and tell me what is going on.

The last phone call I made to you ended with me sobbing in a voicemail. Pleading with you, telling you that I needed my Daddy. My heart was crushed and I needed my Daddy. You never called. Is this the last thing you want me to remember of you?

Already I feel those good memories fading away. Becoming overshadowed by the bad and, and I am okay with that. At the first mention of separation I struggled with how we could be a family but not. I struggled with how I would be your Baby Girl while you were not with my mom. How often would we see you? How would Birthdays and Holidays work? Now I understand. The disgusting choices you have made helped make my decision. With every lie you told, with every moment you and she took from my family, you determined the outcome. You are a person of no integrity and I do not want that kind of person in my life. I do not want a person with such twisted, deceitful morals to be in my children's life.

I do not grieve the loss of a father, I do not cry pointless tears for you. I hurt because the people I love have been hurt by you and your actions. I regret you. I regret loving you. My adoration has been wasted on a figment and I will not allow my children's love and adoration be wasted on something worthless.

I am not as gracious as my sister.

It's Not My Fight

2011-05-08T20:58:00.001-07:00

But it feels like it is. As a mother, my heart breaks when my children hurt. As a daughter, my heart aches when my mother's heart breaks. For so long, I have seen my mom through a stoic lens. But, as I have grown and become a woman and mother, I have slowly loosened the veil and am now seeing my mother for who she is, a woman. A person with her own identity separate from myself. This enlightenment has come from a tremendous betrayal in which I have tried to be removed from. My breath has been ripped from my lungs and I find it all too easy to hide in bed, hoping this nightmare is just that, a nightmare. One which dissipates when the soft glow of morning rises...but I know it won't. And we are left with vestiges honoring someone who is all too human.

I have always seen Divorce as a good thing.

2011-04-30T22:18:00.001-07:00

Perhaps that's why I struggled so hard the first year of my marriage. While my older sister married at eighteen. I was twenty eight.

I try so hard at times, closing my eyes and lifting boulders off all my repressed memories. But I can't. I see instead old, worn snapshots I had spent hours staring at in the album. Memorizing each smiling face, each simple gesture caught, praying that I could be in that moment. I try and recall the smell of the spring air. The warm sun on my face as a gentle breeze blows my blonde curls across my forehead. But I'm not there. I studied his face the most. Searching for any resemblance. My sister is the one who looks like him, I am a replica of our mother. We were so young then.

Our mom always tried to protect us. She was a weak, beaten down young mother with a monster as her husband. The strength she lacked for herself, she made up in her love for us. She left him. We left him.

The one constant in my adolescence were nights huddled together in bed. Mom holding us tight and through the darkness she would whisper, "It's ok. We are together. The three of us." It was the three of us for so long. Boyfriends came and went, none fitting the task of husband and father.

I was born to be a daddy's girl. But when she did re-marry, I was terrified. I felt at any moment, he would leave. They were married when I was finishing Junior High, it was a time in my life when I desperately needed a dad. Daily I evaluated our family. 'If he left now, it would be okay. He's just Mike.' As years carried out, my evaluations turned from daily to weekly and slowly just once a year. Somewhere the distinction was lost. I grew to love and trust him. I could no longer bring myself to call him Mike. He was my Daddy and in my thirties, I still called him Daddy.

Now my evaluation is real and it is more involved than I ever could have imagined.

Yesterday

2010-12-18T20:38:00.000-08:00

A heart torn, so bare and free

left dangling from a tree.

Sways to and fro ‘till tomorrows be.

Hung by contentment’s need.

Thin and lean by some deed,

a childish glare without the glee;

on the willows bend, they faint.

Under the load which barren be

whisper a song old and sweet.

A Mothers Warning...

2010-12-15T16:01:00.001-08:00

I have been thinking about what to say. It's too cliché to say there are no words, no sentences to fully describe the circumstances. I barely made it through the blog one time. My whole body seemed to convulse, every inch of my being seized and I felt as though something had reached deep inside my body and ripped me apart. And that is just the beginning. With that being said, I strongly urge every mother to read it. As painful and gut-wrenching as Dana's blog is, grab a box (the WHOLE box) of Kleenex, and read about Tiggy.

Through the Valley

2010-12-13T20:22:00.000-08:00

"He will swallow up death forever;
and the Lord God will wipe away tears from all faces,
and the reproach of his people he will take away from all the earth,
for the Lord has spoken". Isaiah 25:8

The truth is, I never really wanted kids. Or, perhaps, I never thought I could have them so I had convinced myself that I did not want them. Because of that, I spent too many years festering a hardened heart. In reflection, having a stone heart was easy. With the lack of certain crucial bonds growing up, my biggest fear would be that if I did have children, I would be incapable of loving them. Now, my biggest fear is I love them so much if God, in His infinite wisdom called my children home, I wouldn't come back from it. I fear that I would be so consumed by my pain I would let it swallow me. My children are my heart, walking around outside of my body. I feel their hurt, sadness, frustration and joy, deeper and more pure than I feel my own. As I go about my day, my mind is habitually running what-ifs. With every room I enter, I scan it for potential dangers so much that I am unaware of it. With every action I take, I take with precaution. I know how fleeting this life is and I know, that our Father laid out our lives before time was set. He has ordained it all. I also understand that these babies I conceived, carried in my womb and naturally delivered, are not mine. God has seen fit to entrust them to me. Ava and Bax belong to The Lord God, as do I, my husband and every child that is called to Him.

I sat on the couch today, as my babies slept, talking to my thirteen year old niece. This is a time where God has been calling so many babies home. Because she knows the intimate sting of death, losing her baby brother. I did not want to breakdown in front of her, but I did. It was a comment I read on a post. A mommyblogger I read was in the middle of trying to decide what to bury her 22 month old son in. She couldn't get herself to let go of his favorite shirt, and there were plenty of suggestions. The one that caused me to fully cry since I heard the news, was that she should bury him in soft jammies, saying: "I'm seeing him wearing warm snuggy jammies...and your baby boy snuggled up in the arms of our Heavenly Father..." Life was so much less heartbreaking when my heart was stone. I don't think I can handle this heart of flesh. I realize that no matter how hard you try to protect your babies from every single danger, imagined or real, when our Creator calls those who are His home, He will be glorified. I have known more children that have passed away then adults, and all in such a short time. I want to yell that's it's not fair, and ask God for a time out, to pause life for just a moment so I can really tell Him how unfair it is. But... how different life would be if we never experienced this. How selfish, indulgent and indifferent we would become if we weren't reminded who we are, how we are dust. I am thankful this life is temporal, thankful that our spirit is not.

Jonathan
Baby Girl Garcia
L.S.
Charlie
Mattias

thirty-four

2010-11-25T00:01:00.000-08:00

Today is my husbands thirty-fourth birthday. Three years ago, we celebrated his birthday together as a couple for the first time. Before we were married, we decided to do things a little differently then the new social norm. We hadn't dated long before he proposed (he waited about a month). We didn't spend time alone at his place. Instead we spent time with each other where I lived, at my sister's house, in her front-room so we would have accountability. Accountability in the form an older sister, her husband and their five daughters. We held hands, took long walks in the tree park near my house and on chilly days we'd stroll through the Autumn leaves sipping warm cider. We both have had devastating relationships in the past so we set boundaries very early on. On our wedding day, we were able to share so many firsts as husband and wife. Perhaps my most cherished is our first kiss. We were together four months before that kiss.

For his first birthday after we were married, I made a list of thirty-two things I treasured about my husband. Sitting here, reading This list I made two years ago has me feeling conflicted. I can close my eyes and recall every emotion and memory which produced a number on that list. Every smile he gave, a tender brush of his hand on mine and the continual reassurance. With the joy that list brought, the eagerness and wonder of a new bride learning how to be a wife and care for her newlyweded husband. It also brought a pang of sadness. How life can change a person in a few short years. Three years of physical struggle and pain seeps into every crevice in a marriage. Because it doesn't effect you, it effects both of you. And the once eagerness of caring for a husband and children can slowly turn into a chore. A day cemented in dread as parts of your body rapidly deteriorate. It's easy to be shut away, and that is how I am, how I've been. Over the past few weeks I have been seeing glimpses of the newly married us. And even though I'm sad that I feel so far removed from the woman who stood before God and made a covenant with her husband, I'm beginning to feel that eagerness again.

Here are thirty-four 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) Takes care of me when I have a meltdown
17) Sets goals and meets them
18) He's very precise
19) Ava Marie Lord:

20)Baxter Isaac Lord:

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) Loves to be silly with Mava
26) Has his priorities straight
27) Did I mention Hot?...

28) Cute butt
29) Strong
30) Passionate
31) Faithful
32) Is an amazing daddy
33) Cherishes his family...

34) I am his and he is mine.

The Bible

2010-11-08T17:08:00.001-08:00

After we got Mava her new little 'big girl' bed, we began discussing bedtime routines. We talked about reading the Bible to her and singing with her while Daddy plays his guitar. All of a sudden I blurted out: I know exactly what Bible we're going to use! Which was met with Aaron's reply: Yeah because you're the head of this family. "Yeah, I am (playing) and this is the Bible we're getting." I then tried my hardest to describe the Children's Bible we had growing up. Aaron quickly pulled out his laptop and within moments my childhood Bible was on the screen. I jumped up and down, clapping my hands, "That's it! That's it! Can we get it?! Please, please, please?!?" Turns out it's the same Bible my sweetie pie had growing and now our babies will grow up with it as well.

Charlie

2010-09-08T23:07:00.000-07:00

It's been years since I watched my sister and her husband go through the heart wrenching process of losing their newborn son. I still carry with me the memory of their last tender moments as Jonathan's earthy parents, before he was lowered into the ground. I knew then it all was a part of Gods plan, He had ordained this precious life to be with us for a very short time to give glory to Him and to show us His overwhelming love, but I had yet to see the tangible byproduct of this loss. It wasn't until a few days ago that I was able to see my sisters loss from the perspective as a mother and to watch our friends experience what my sister had those years ago. It was tonight, as I sat in prayer for Bryan and Rachel, that I realized it was Gods loving, full grace that my Sister and Pat watched their son enter into our heavenly Fathers Kingdom. His death is a blessing for our friends because God has put by their side two people who have experienced the bittersweet pain of losing a child. A pain that I could never fully grasp, one that I think would overtake me. I find myself praising God for His love and provision as my heart is weeping uncontrollably for our dear friends. And for my sister.

May God give you breath, or a swift journey, beautiful Charlie.

Soli Deo Gloria

Is it Howard?

2010-08-04T13:34:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure when it was exactly that my parents divorced. But, what I can remember of my early childhood were nights huddled with my sister as we tried to fall asleep to the sound of them fighting. It's amazing how our young minds are able to remember glimpses of memories and some how edit them to distance us from the actual events, to gloss over the vile and horrible. I remember being scared but I also have a memory of happiness. George, my birth father used to call me criss-er, at least I think so. I can't tell what is memory or fiction, a fiction made up to add those happy memories that never existed. I have heard that when two parents fight and divorce, the children take the guilt and think some how, it was their fault. I never felt that. I felt that if George, who said he loved my mother, could hurt her and yell at her like he did, then he could do the same to me. As I grew up, and he had moved on to a new family and new kids, the void grew. While we were living off of Government cheese and rice, his new family flourished. Sometimes we would get a birthday card, or a phone call once in a while and a summer visit here and there. I always felt like I was in the way, I was a burden. So we grew, we grew up with my mom, single and going to school in order to support us on her own. The last time I saw George was at my sisters wedding, the visit was brief. Perhaps because my dad was there. It was that day I stopped talking about George altogether. The man my mom had married was my dad, seemed like he was always my dad. He raised me through the hardest time, the teen years, and he still loved me no matter how mean I was to him. However, I spent most of my twenties seeking approval, trying hard to have relationships, but I didn't know how and I ended up with guys that mirrored George. It wasn't until I got married that I knew what a loving relationship was. I fought so hard with Aaron, trying to push him away and get him angry enough because I was scared. I was scared about so much and I didn't know how to deal with it. It wasn't until I sat at the desk in the Social Security office that I knew why, why I was so broken and unable to give all of myself to my new husband. The clerk had asked me one question: What is your biological fathers middle name? I didn't know. I didn't know his name, or his birth date. I didn't know anything about him, just the hurt that was caused by him. I some how figured out that it started with an H, and the clerk helped me go through all the H names until she said 'Howard'. Yes, it sounded familiar, I thought. She typed it in, and the correct birth certificate popped up and I was finally able to legally change my last name. The last remnant of my childhood was gone. He was gone. I no longer had to think about him whenever someone asked for my name. Aaron and I had our daughter, and then our son. Our little family was growing. I recently found some of my little brothers, first on MySpace, then on Facebook. Timmy filled me in on a few things, George and his mom divorced too. He told me he still sees George and that I should contact him. I still do not know why I did, but I did. I just wanted to know if he ever thought about me and my sister. Several days passed before he wrote me back. Yes, he said he thought about us, and he missed us. He thought he would never see me again and was pleased that I had written him. There was so much he wanted to say to me. I still haven't written him back. I do want to hear what he has to say, but I realized that I have yet to fully cry, to really express the anger and hurt that I have carried around for so long. And I am not sure that I am ready to face the past. I look at my daughter, and I hold her, I cuddle with my children and I feel the love and tenderness I have for these babies, these beautiful children God has blessed me abundantly with. And I can't help thinking, that if you truly love your children, if they are your heart, then how, how can you just live your life without them?

Thank You Honey

2010-07-10T00:30:00.000-07:00

For a while now, I knew that my best shot of taking both kids to the market and various other errands required Baxter to be in some sort of carrier device. However, the Snuggily that we have isn't suitable for him until he gets a little older. After going around and around, playing other possibilities in my head, I settled on the idea of a sling. I had never liked the idea of baby slings, they seemed too "hippish" for me, but now it seemed as though, that was the best option for me. I did like the concept of the Moby Wrap, but not only are they way more money then I would ever spend on something that I won't use everyday of my life, forever, but with a toddler to chase after, those wraps are too cumbersome. That is, they aren't easily thrown on and go. I happened to be at JoAnn's during their Fourth of July sale and got several patterns for $.99, one was a pattern for two different kinds of baby carrier, one a back/frontpack and the other was a sling. A few days later, me, my mom and the kids went back to JoAnn's. I found the perfect fabric for the sling. It was very inexpensive as well, it was on clearance, and then 50% off, and then it was end of bolt, and then it was a little dirty so I spent $4 total on over two yards of two different fabrics (the white was only a $1). I only really buy patterns when they are on sale for a dollar, and I try not to spend a lot of money on fabric, because if you do pay full price, then whats the use? you could go to the store and buy the desired item for less then it would cost you to make it. The sling should have only taken me an hour to make, if that, but with babies fussing, and no pain medicine, it took me three days. I wanted to have it done by time Aaron got off work today, but for some unexplained reason (baby brain) I just couldn't figure out the last step in the sewing instructions. I tried sewing the sling together three different ways until Aaron finally offered to look at the pattern for me and see if it made sense. He did, it did and he pointed to the picture. "see, it goes like that." I felt like the BIGGEST IDIOT ever. duh. Anyway, thanks to my hubby, I finished the sling. It even has a cell phone pocket.

Happy (late) Graduation Moriah!

2010-07-07T14:50:00.000-07:00

I started Moriah's graduation present right before I had Baxter and wasn't able to finish it due to his arrival and after he came it's taken me a whole month to adjust to two little ones. Needless to say, her purse has been on the back burner, that is until now! For some reason the fabric just screamed Moriah and the design I used was half from a pattern and half from my head. I'm pleased with the out come, especially the zipper. Zippers have always scared me for some reason, despite how easy they really are.

An Undisciplined Mommy

2010-06-21T11:48:00.000-07:00

For some time now, I have been mulling over a response to my somewhat new role as wife and mother. Well, I guess after two years of marriage and our daughter turning one, and having our son, the role for me isn't as new as I thought it was. We got married while I was finishing up my last few semesters at CSU Chico. We had decided before we were married that I was to stay home and be a housewife, a position that I desperately yearned for, especially since I had an arm which had gotten so bad after 10 years of cutting hair, I was told that I could no longer do the work I had trained hard for. After we got married, I moved in and took the job as housewife very seriously. My sister and I had been raised by our mom, who worked long hours as a nursing student, then as an LVN and later an RN. We learned what we needed to know about house work and cooking by our mom showing us, and then we were on our own to take care of the house while she was working. So, being raised by a single mom, actually taught me a lot about house hold management, it also embedded a deep desire to be at home with my kids as my mom was unable to be for us.

At first, (and if you ask Aaron, he might have a different recollection of our brief life before kids), I was able to go to school in the morning, be home by the afternoon, do homework and clean the house with the ultimate goal of having dinner on the table for him when he got off work. For some strange reason, that was one of the most important things in my life, having dinner ready and on the table for my husband when he got home from work. Now, in a perfect world, you might not see what the problem was with that, but you see, my husband works on salary, which means, you work until your done. You don't get the luxury of just clocking out when you've served your eight hours. This was the major conflict for the first several months of our first year together. Dinner would be ready, I would be ready, the house would be ready, but without fail, at 6:30 instead of my man being home, I would get a phone call. Did I mention, I like to yell? And sulk?

Slowly I began to realize these stringent ideas and beliefs I had weren't conducive to my well-being, and certainly not for my husband's well-being. I was striving for some sense of perfection. What got me to see I was drowning were the two pink lines. For weeks I felt like my body was full of lead, I couldn't move, and I couldn't stay awake. Shortly after Mothers Day, I got the news, I was now a Mommy too. Because of the pregnancy, I couldn't do everything I thought I needed to do. The house began to get messy, the laundry piled up, so did the dishes. My husband had to relinquish the roles he thought we were both meant to fulfill, him going off to work all day, me staying home, being the dutiful housewife. My sweet man had to take up both roles. He would go to work all day, then come home with dinner and do the dishes or a load of laundry. How unfair for him. I hated it. I resented it and I felt so incredibly guilty that I wasn't a good wife.

As soon as I was able to function (after the first three months), I began to tackle the role of wife, again. However, I would let little things slide. I wasn't scrubbing the house down everyday, I'd let the clothes accumulate until we had no more clean undies, but at least I was cooking dinner again, and packing his lunch. I thought that somehow, after Ava was born, it would be different, I just had to get back into the swing of things. The house would be cleaner, the clothes washed, folded and put away and there would never, ever be more then two dirty dishes in the sink at a given time. (Yes, please feel free to laugh, as I write this I realize how stupid I really was). But, I tried. I tried with all I had to make everything perfect. I tried to do everything, all by myself with an infant that I was determined to not get in my way.

My daughter witnessed me mentally break down. We were in the kitchen, she in her bouncy and I in front of the stove trying to do it all, while she screamed and cried because all she wanted was mommy, and all mommy wanted was to do everything, which meant not having her daughter need her. She screamed and cried, I screamed and cried and my most precious gift in the world was terrified, she was terrified of me. As I looked in her wide, tear flooded eyes, I...I finally got it. Through all the shame, pride, guilt, and sorrow, I got it. My only job is to take care of my family, my husband, my children. The people God has created for me, and me for them. That is my only calling; not scrubbing the kitchen floor, not having a three course dinner on the table waiting for my husband. My job is to hold my daughter when she needs me.

I hate that it took me so long to understand what it means to be a housewife, I hate that I didn't learn the lesson sooner, when I was pregnant. And after I had posted a blog of my shame and failure as a mommy, my friend Laurie, gave me such beautiful words of advice and encouragement. I will always treasure them.

So, I sat down and thought hard about how I was going to continue to care for my family, first, then the house. How can I try to combine the two in a way that I am not overwhelmed and that my children can have my full attention when they need it? I made a list, and a chart. I love making lists!! I think that might be the teacher in me, the part who loves office supplies and making even the simplest task into a project. I broke down the five day work week into separate days, each day I would do "two" chores and lined them up so I have variety and flow. This is what I came up with:

Monday: Bedrooms & ALL laundry
Tuesday: Kitchen & ALL sweeping
Wednesday: Bathroom & ALL moping
Thursday: Front room & ALL dusting
Friday: Dining room & ALL vacuuming

Well, it's Monday and yes, there is a load of laundry in the wash, and another one in line. I couldn't get to the kids' room before Ava's morning nap so I'll move on to our room and hopefully I can get it done, or mostly done before we have to leave for an appointment this afternoon. I pray that I can keep up with this new plan, well, it's not so new. I wrote it when I was first pregnant with Baxter and am now just beginning to tackle it, so, we'll see how it goes but for now, I have a diaper to change and an infant to feed.

When Your Husband is Sneaking Around on the Internet...

2010-06-15T08:44:00.001-07:00

You don't expect him to be setting up a Facebook page for you.

I'm still not totally convinced that I wanted one...

It's Like AA

2010-06-10T13:23:00.000-07:00

I've quickly realized that having two little ones (17 months old and 17 days old), I must take things one day at a time. One long, long day at a time. I must admit, however, that things aren't as bad as I had previously thought they would be. I found that I can easily lug both kids up and down the stairs at the same time without dropping either them or my mocha's. Ava even seems born to be a big sister, running to Baxter's side when he cries, giving him his binkie or her blankies (she doesn't even let mommy cuddle with her blankies!)

There are several things I have had to rethink how I do them. Baxter's like his big sister in that when she was itty bitty, all she wanted was to be held and cuddled. Ava wouldn't fall asleep during the day unless we both laid on the couch and cuddled together. This posed a little problem because when I lay down with Baxter, Ava needs to be cuddled with too, and my couch is on the small side, but Ava has managed to find a little nook for herself in the crook of my knees. Another major snag is feeding time. Baxter hasn't gained weight, he's gained length, but not pounds and ounces. After his Doctor appointment, we were sent to see a lactation consultant. If after going through the whole pregnancy, labor and delivery thing, you still clung onto some modesty, you can pretty much kiss it goodbye when you see a lactation consultant. She said everything looked good, gave me some pointers and said she knew what the problem was: I was too busy. My hands are too full with chasing Ava around to take the time necessary for Baxter to get his two ounces each feeding in order for him to gain weight. I might have to trap Ava in her room behind the baby gate.

I think one of the last big changes I've had to make was in my cleaning and cooking schedule. I used to clean up the house while Ava slept, but now it seems like the best time to pick up is after dinner and make Aaron's lunch before I go to bed, instead of in the morning. There isn't really much for me to complain about, I think that if I didn't have the major headache I get postpartum which lasts for about 6 weeks straight, I could handle this new life with a touch more grace then I currently am. But, really, I love it. I love being a mom and my kids are so amazing!

The Guilt Still Lingers

2010-06-03T23:47:00.000-07:00

At first, all I could think of was how fun babies are, how easy it was for me to give birth. I wanted another baby. It didn't take long before we were pregnant and at first, I was in a kind of float-y, sparkl-y daze. I was feeling like I had finally achieved adulthood (and it only took me 30 years).
But then, I looked at my daughter. Really looked at her and waited in the moment we were sharing, enjoying every slow second of it, lingering in her laughter and as quickly as the moment between mother and daughter came; the heavy guilt sunk in. From that moment on I became more aware of the reality that I would no longer be all Ava's. I tried to justify my selfishness in wanting another child by telling myself I was doing it for her, I was giving Ava a sibling, a playmate, a best friend. It seemed that the more I repeated this to myself, the bigger my guilt grew. I had now taken the one on one intimacy I shared with my baby girl and replaced it with only fifty percent of what it was. I asked almost every mom I knew with more then one kid how they felt when they had another child. All just smiled and said: 'You're doing them a favor. You're giving them a friend to play with and you a chance to breath while they play together and not need all your time.'

This did not help. I felt even more guilt and emotion because I just could not see it that way. I had given up. It wasn't until I was getting my haircut, my stylist had two kids and recently found out she was pregnant with twins. She knew I had Ava and we started talking about due dates and names when all of a sudden she looked at me and asked if I felt guilty for taking part of me away from Ava and sharing it with another baby. She understood, she felt the same way when she had her second child, and even more so now that she was having twins.

I LOVE my children, both of them. I am slowly adjusting to splitting myself between two kids instead of giving myself to one. It is more difficult then I could have ever imagined. I sometimes look at Ava and see her as someone I have to protect Baxter from, and it seems all we've said to her since we came home from the hospital was "Ava, NO!" It's those moments where she is transformed from being my baby girl to a danger. I hate that, it breaks my heart to see her as someone other then my itty bitty. Aaron and I both make more of an effort to hug and love on Mava. I try to continue to have our morning cuddle time, but it just doesn't seem like it's enough. I'm hoping it will get easier.

The Dress

2010-05-18T22:37:00.000-07:00

I know Easter was a while ago, but it took me this long to get the photos off my camera in preparation for the impending birth of our son (Monday!!!). I originally got the inspiration to make Ava's Easter dress from my sister, she usually makes her daughters Easter dresses, so I thought, "hey, I can do that too!" So, I did.

I found the sweetest butterfly linen fabric and a simple dress pattern in which I altered, adding dainty eyelet for the yoke and white linen for subtle sleeve ruffles. I also added long pink and purple ribbon in the back for a mock belt, which I knew would be Mava's favorite part of the dress! The whole dress was a very simple project, however, I found the lining to be quite bothersome. I have a fairly large collection of buttons, but I still couldn't find just the right ones until our friends sent Ava a birthday invitation with several buttons glued on; two of which were the perfect pearlescent pink.

2010-05-18T19:26:00.000-07:00

A Different Kind of Nest

2010-04-23T10:23:00.000-07:00

Perhaps its just laziness on my part, but when I was in my last trimester, awaiting Ava's arrival, I was also awaiting the arrival of that "nesting" urge to kick in. My mom had even asked Aaron if he noticed it kicking in. He thought for a moment, then simply said, "Well, she's getting a massage and pedicure and has a hair appointment, so I guess she is nesting."

Don't get me wrong, I did try and keep the house clean and the freezer stocked knowing that I HAD to get those things done. I HAD to make sure things were in order, but I didn't WANT to. I didn't have the strange, strong urge to scrub the house, cook casseroles to freeze, and stock the pantry. I did what I could force myself to do and left the rest for my husband to deal with. And as I struggled to sweep and mop the kitchen floor yesterday, I received a very pleasant phone call. The receptionist from the spa where I get my prenatal massages called to remind me of my massage and pedicure appointment for Saturday.

This pregnancy has been a little harder then the first one, I blame Ava. I think she's going through her "terrible two's" already. I know that it's just her struggle and frustration at wanting, at needing to do things independently, trying to ignore her obvious limitations (she's only 15 months!). However, she dose have the longest reach of any kid I've ever seen. She can easily out reach a two year old by a foot when something on the kitchen table has caught her eye. Ava also really likes to help. She helps by destroying the house as mommy tries to clean it. She probably thinks she is doing me a favor by making sure I always have something to do. Although, yesterday, I had left two of her diapers in the front room after her nap diaper change. She quietly picked them up and started off towards her room. "Ava! No! Icky!" I called after her, this just made her run, not walk to her room. After a minute she came back out, and I went in, searching for her diapers. I found them. Right where they belonged. In her dirty diaper pail. She was helping mommy. She did good. We danced. We jumped. We clapped. "Good girl baby!!!"

Then I cried.

Ava's Monster..er, I Mean, Josiah's Monster

2010-04-13T11:46:00.001-07:00

I guess this is what you would call a "crafted project". It's designed to take an hour or so, however, with a one year old and an Easter dress in the mix, it took quite a bit longer.

I should have known making this monster in front of Ava would cause problems...

So, I had to make two...

I thought I had solved the problem...

Then I told her one belonged to Josiah...

She was not amused.

The Housewife's Uniform

2010-03-15T18:17:00.000-07:00

It has been a little over two years since I have embraced the Housewife's uniform. The apron, that is. It has been a staple in our home since we were married, actually, I have always had an apron hanging around even before I was married. The first one I was given, was a white half apron with grey kitten print, hollies and Christmas bells. It belonged to my late great grandma, Margie. There had always been something charming and nostalgic about them. To me, aprons meant warmth, freshly baked chocolate chip cookies, lavender Pine Sol and the comfort only mom could surround you with. They, as cheesy at it might sound, symbolize love.

On those ominous house cleaning days, with my trusty yoga pants, a less Ava dirtied shirt, my favorite lemon print half apron, I begin to tie my sneakers as Ava toddles up to me. She knows what this uniform means. She knows mommy is getting down to business. So, Ava gets down to business. She then precedes to disperse all her toys, clothes and yes, even dirty diapers out of her diaper pail throughout the house. And, not to mention, her crackers she steps on and crushes into the carpet, just for fun.

Since my fascination with aprons, and the fact that after a year of contemplating buying a sewing machine, I finally broke down and had my husband buy me one, a Singer. It is the prettiest sewing machine I have ever seen. I hadn't sewn for over a decade since I took several sewing classes in college. What finally pushed me to the realization that yes, in fact I needed a machine was Ava's hand stitched Pilgrim dress for her Thanksgiving photos. I LOVED sewing her little dress and I know as a housewife and mommy, there will be countless school plays and recitals in which I will need to sew costumes for.

My first project was an apron for my niece Moriah's 13th birthday, I unfortunately didn't get enough pictures of. The front of the apron consisted of purple gingham, an iPod mini pocket and a larger pocket with her name hand stitched on it in pale purple thread. Purple is both of our favorite color so I had a ton of fun making this apron.

My second apron was for my friend Caroline. I had bought an apron book and flipping through it she fell in love with this cocktail number. The fabric in the book was a gold brocade pattern with flowers. She loves cheetah print and I had luckily found the same exact fabric as the sample, but in the print she wanted. This apron is able to be worn on both sides, with black sheer fabric covering one of the sides and the same little pocket with a tailored bow on each side of the apron. I had fun making the little bows and I am very, very happy how this apron came out. I almost didn't want to give it to her, but keep it for myself.

The most recent apron I made was for our friend, Jessie. Jessie and Jason Hall have been friends of ours for quite some time, they've been married for about a year now and there son, Josiah is about to turn one. When we were over for dinner, I brought Jessie this apron and Aaron brought Jason a six pack of refreshing beverages. I thought the black buttons would fit her style, and the black ribbon edging complement it nicely.

The next apron I want to make is for another friend of ours. She recently had a baby boy and is now a housewife, learning things for the first time that a lot of us were raised doing. I know how hard and frustrating it is at times to be at home, all day taking care of a baby and the home. So, I wanted to do something that might, I don't know, help solidify her calling and hopefully make her smile. I think her favorite color is green and I absolutely love that green snake print fabric, so I think I'm going to do something with that and maybe ribbon, I love ribbon. I'm not sure yet. I just need to wait until I finish Ava's Easter dress and Josiah's pirate monster for his birthday. I sure hope his monster turns out. It looks good in my head but getting it from my head to reality, might not work.

Warning:

2010-02-14T13:40:00.000-08:00

Keep hands and feet away from playpen at all times...

I Feel Shame, or Pride

2010-02-11T12:10:00.000-08:00

It can be viewed as either a "down side" or "up side" of studying English in College, having to continually "keep" journals. I saw it as both. At the beginning of the semester, I would wallow at the thought of having to do yet another journal, with each professor believing its their own original idea. Part way through the assignment, I would find myself enjoying it, then a month or so would pass and I was right back to wallowing. After all, journaling is just another way to linger in the self loathing that is my mind. Why on earth would I want to actually put words to the numerous mangled thoughts flowing in and out of my head, and who on earth would want to read that crap? I wouldn't. But for some unexplained reason, I have kept my journals. All of them laced with various quotes that I have been unsuccessful at forgetting. One in particular has cemented itself in the far recesses of my thoughts. It was from an Ethics in Education class I took back at Butte some twelve years ago.

John F. Covaleskie wrote: I feel shame or pride for what I know about myself, not what others know about me.

We can spend our whole life putting on a false self, one that looks good, holy, pretty, humble and wise. One that is heroic and brave, yet compassionate and thoughtful. So when people who think they know us, look at who they see and go: My god, how amazing are they! Look at how they work so hard, how much time and money they volunteer! Even their children are so respectful and well managed! But, as nice as those hollow accolades are at first, they fade the moment you remember who you really are. How you secretly cheated a co-worker, or your taxes. How hard you try to hide your hidden sins so that you seem to justify both there existence and there absence. Those small moments that creep in when our guard is down, that's when we truly feel shame for who we are, even when the world sees differently.

Conversely, when you go about your day, trying to do what's best for your family, its those little victories, those quiet little accomplishments that you achieve when no one is around to cheer for you, that's when we are filled with a humbled pride that cannot be tarnished. The kind of pride from doing what is expected of us and striving towards the ultimate goal of glorifying God. But, perhaps pride, might be the wrong word. It's more of a reassurance from God that we are receiving, that quiet "good job, faithful servant. You're on the right path."

We can hide from others, we can more successfully hide from ourselves but it is foolish to think we can hide from God. Our secret, hidden sins are spread out before Him, He saw them even before He created us and time itself. I think if we are truly honest with ourselves we can better grasp who we are and ultimately, who we ought to be.

Our Son, Baxter

2010-01-11T11:43:00.000-08:00

Today's experience at North State Imaging was far better then our trip last year. It was our ultrasound appointment. When we went to see Ava at twenty weeks, I stupidly followed the directions on the handout perfectly. What I didn't realize was A) my bladder seemed to be forty times smaller then the average bladder and B) the office was going to be over 45 minutes behind schedule. I truly thought I was going to pee all over their carpet and I wouldn't have felt bad at all since the office staff were so incredibly rude. However, once inside the room, our technician was so amazing it almost made up for the crap we went through just to see our daughter. With this in mind, I was very hesitant as I was preparing for today's appointment. Aaron and I decided that I would drink only half of the full quart I was meant to drink and not worry about finishing the water an hour before the exam. I continued sipping as we drove to the office building. We crowded into the small room, Aaron, Ava, me and my Mom. I got the best spot, stretched out on a bed. I was more relaxed and the technician was able to take her time and look at our baby very closely. At first, in her soft South African accent, she said the baby could very well be another girl, it wasn't until the end when the baby shifted perfectly and the technician said: oh, wow, can you guess what that is?

Lets just say, it's bigger then I thought it would be.

Our Little Pilgrim

2009-12-30T11:50:00.000-08:00

I wanted to have holiday photos taken, Valentines, Easter, Thanksgiving and Christmas and to carry this tradition on to all of our kids, making them special family memories. It started with Ava's first holiday photo: Valentines Day. She was a Month old, laying on her pink and white satin blankie with miniature angel wings. This was her Valentines gift for daddy. For Easter, she laid in a basket, wearing a sweet dress her Auntie made her and playing with a soft, chocolate brown (real) bunny. Emphasis on real, we have a photo of the very moment both Ava and the bunny realize each other is real and upon finding this out, Ava raises her little arms up, eyes amazingly 10 times there normal size and the bunny jumping out of the basket for his dear little life. I think that was my favorite photo in the series. This year, for Thanksgiving I wanted to dress her up as a little Pilgrim. Well, actually at first I wanted to dress her as a little turkey since she's my little turkey butt, however, finding a little gobbler costume was next to impossible. I decided then to make her a simple Pilgrim dress using, yes, a witches costume on clearance 75% off after Halloween (I paid only $1.75). Using a white sheet we had stored away, it took me only a few days of cutting, ironing and HAND SEWING. Hand sewing? why is that a big deal? My hand is next to useless, so with each stitch I reminded myself how cute and sweet Ava will look when it was finished. And boy, that was an understatement! She looked beyond cute! We go to DeeDee Ortiz to get her photos taken, DeeDee does such a wonderful job and is incredibly talented!

The Wedding Cake

2009-11-03T14:34:00.000-08:00

On the third Wednesday every month, I have my Bunco night. I love Bunco night, it gives me a chance to get out of the house and socialize with adults. Without, I think I would be in a constant state of babbling, blowing raspberries and various degrees of vocal cord practices with Ava. In the Bunco group there is a grandma, mom and daughter, which is always fun and entertaining to witness the fun dynamic. Several weeks ago while I was in the middle of frosting an anniversary cake with my mom, I got a call from Sandy (the grandma). She told me her granddaughter was going to get married on November 1st, and had tried to plan her own wedding, as best as she could. Sandy then asked me if I would be able to make her a wedding cake, "Something small. Nice. Simple." She said. She asked for a vanilla cake with chocolate filling. I asked what the wedding colors were (cream and mauve) and if they had a cake topper or not. Before she had the chance to tell me they didn't have a topper, I knew exactly what I wanted to do. I planned to do the cake in segments over three days, starting on Friday. I am so very, very glad I gave myself a three day window. This poor cake, everything you could imagine go wrong, went wrong. My mom was over Friday and witnessed the biggest debacle in the whole world. Only four people know what happened, Aaron, Mom, Ava and Myself. I hoping no one talks.

My mom came to my rescue and took the pans home and re-baked my cakes as I was choking back a complete break down. I'm still blaming it on being pregnant. Needless to say, I don't have a lot of process pictures but I do have quite a few of the finished product.

Trick or Treat?

2009-11-02T20:29:00.000-08:00

We had bought trick or treater candy several times over the past month, all which ended up in the same place, in our tummies, on our thighs and I think I even noticed a new little bulge on my behind. Since it was Ava's first Halloween, I had debated between doing the whole "Halloween thing" or not. We had made plans to meet our friends downtown, their daughter Ashley was going as a teddy bear. So, in September, I bought Ava a pink long sleeve onesie with a glow in the dark skeleton and for a while thought that would be the extent of it, that was until I ran out of powdered sugar.

I was asked to bake a friends wedding cake, due November 1st so when I set out to work on the frosting on Friday, I was frustrated to find I had used all my confectioners sugar so soon. I thought the Grocery Outlet would be fast and close to both my home and Dutch Brothers so I went there after I got my little 8oz. Ugh, no sugar. Kmart. Dang it! No sugar. As I was heading out I heard over the loud speaker that all costumes were 50% off. Huh, it wouldn't hurt to procrastinate going to the market a little longer. We made our way to the garden center where aisles of costumes hung. I looked, pointed various things out to Ava, then it happened. In the back corner, was the ultimate, perfect costume...

I think this last one is my favorite, Ava eating hay while her friend cried. Ava loves giraffeys, and loved talking and laughing to her new friend, her costume.

I am Romulan

2009-10-05T21:46:00.001-07:00

I have always liked Star Trek, despite the overwhelming sexist and demeaning attitudes towards women, I dare say it's my "guilty" pleasure. But until now, I sort of minimized my interest in the show. What happened was this:

Ava went down for her morning nap, it was unusually long for her morning nap, almost three hours in length. However, this was an unexpected and delightful treat for me. I was able to nap today as well. Although my house was in need of my attention, I opted for a few hours curled up in bed. That's when it happened. I found my self in a dark, loud room reminiscent of an old Star Trek set, fog and flashing lights included. With black hair, Bettie Page bangs and A-line framing my up turned eyebrows, there was no mistaking it, I was a Romulan. Captain Kirk and Spock soon entered the room and sat down in front of me. I had important information to give them, something that would save the Federation from it's impending Klingon attack. In hushed tones I attempted to warn them, but being a Romulan, they were hesitant to listen, that was until I did a mind meld with Spock. Although Romulans and Vulcans are distantly related, Romulans aren't known to mind meld the way Vulcans are. However, I was able to initiate a mind meld with Spock, thus sharing everything I knew and he was able to see the truth and as we were being attacked, all three of us beamed up to safety.

That might be the last time I eat a snickers and cheddar potato chips before I go to sleep, or not.

I Found My Own

2009-10-05T21:20:00.001-07:00

Advice on the birth of a second child.

http://kidshealth.org/parent/pregnancy_newborn/pregnancy/second_child.html#

Yes, I am

2009-10-01T15:01:00.000-07:00

Pregnant. It's kind of odd, I know that every pregnancy and every child is different, but I never expected this. When we first found out I was pregnant with Ava, it was 2 am and I woke up in a sweat, I knew something was different so I took a test and the line was the boldest, brightest pink I had ever seen. Several days before I took the test I was so exhausted and drained, I felt my body was full of lead. This time, there was no early signs, no complete and utter exhaustion, I had only one day where I couldn't stop eating, unlike the week with Ava. It was Aaron who reminded me that I missed something, and the only reason I took the test was my dentist appointment the next day. Just to be "on the safe side" since I was going to have my teeth x-rayed, I wanted to make sure I wasn't going to damage a little somebody. The test was a barely there pale pink. We stared and stared. Not convinced, I took another test the next morning. It was the same almost there pink line. I didn't feel pregnant, but I didn't get my teeth x-rayed, just in case. Later that day with Ava in tow, I picked up a lab slip at my Doctors office, got a blood test and the next day I got the call that yes, in fact we are expecting. I am tired, but I have a nine month old who I'm chasing after, so being tired is part of the package. The only thing that I'm experiencing is this constant full feeling. I have no appetite, and I have to remember to eat for the baby, but after three bites, my stomach is so full it wants to burst.

Ava will be about one and a half when the baby's born, so I have a question for all you veteran moms out there: What is the one piece of advice you wish someone had given you before you gave birth to your second child?

Well...

2009-09-25T15:05:00.000-07:00

At least I don't have to feel awkward about still wearing my maternity pants.

Just When You Thought it Was Safe to Go Back in the Playpen...

2009-09-21T12:18:00.000-07:00

On Choosing Your Words Wisely

2009-09-20T17:26:00.000-07:00

It was my little cousins first birthday not too long ago, it would have been Ava's first little birthday party she was invited to. I eagerly RSVP-ed as soon as her invitation was received, excitedly, Ava picked out just the right gift for her second cousin and we had her favorite giraffey party dress freshly washed and ready for his special day. My mom, who offered to bake his birthday cakes (2) was happy to let me lend a hand in getting the Big Bird cake ready, she had finished the Elmo cake and we were quickly running out of time. Since we were behind schedule, in the span of an hour, we had four separate people call us, all asking the same question, where's the cakes? Each call received the same answer: We're almost done, we will be there as soon as it's physically possible. However, when my aunt, (and I use that title very loosely), called us, my mom was changing and I was juggling to put two heavier-then-they-look cakes into boxes for transport and dealing with my overly tired daughter. I stopped what I was doing, took a deep breath and tried to express my utter frustration at the situation. I told her repeatedly that we were on our way, trying to load the car up. That is when she THOUGHT she had hung up on me. She preceded to spend the next ten-15 minutes telling people that she "can't stand her" (I am that 'her'), Laurie's eldest son, Brad, got in on the rant saying that he "never liked her" (again, that 'her' is me). And just so there were no misunderstandings, they continued to say "Crissy is so..., nobody likes Crissy!" I truly was shocked and very much hurt. Shaking and trying not to cry, I handed over the phone to my mom who in turn listened for quite sometime before hanging up in disgust. After all, this was her sister who was saying such horrible, hurtful things about her daughter. I know that this should not have come as such a surprise to me, this has always been the kind of person Laurie has been. When I found out we were pregnant, it was Laurie who went around telling our family that our daughter was probably my ex-boyfriends. There is so much wrong with that comment, I couldn't even begin to know where to start so all I will say is that there was no possible way that could've been the case. Needless to say, we didn't make it to the party.

Since this episode, I have been thinking a lot about how we talk to people and how we talk when we think the person can't hear what is said. Over my thirty years I have become a firm believer that if given a choice between having broken bones due to "sticks and stones" or words that claim to "never hurt", I would definitely choose the broken bones since they tend to heal whereas, insults and verbal cruelty stay deeply embedded into how you see yourself and seem to linger in the back of your mind, at last, that is how it is with me. This has influenced how I treat other people. My whole life I have been told I am just so easy to "pick on", to tease, to name call and verbally crush. So, in turn, how I treat people seems to be a byproduct of this treatment. Which is utterly unacceptable. I'm cold, spiteful and I know just what to say to hurt the person whom I love the most. The only difference I see between Laurie and myself, is when I open my mouth, it's to hurt others before they hurt me, and that is completely and utterly unacceptable. This is a legacy I do not want to leave for my daughter.

With my degree in Liberal Studies, I have the "book" knowledge of how to express ourselves with children, and often adults as well. Since I've had Ava, I see first hand how everything I say and how it's said can either encourage her and make her laugh or have the opposite effect. Especially since she understands 'no' and is very mobile, cruising around the front room. Even when she falls because she doesn't realize she so small, if I react in an "it's okay" manner verses "Oh Mava! My baby!" (with tears in my eyes) her response is vastly different.

What I need to do, is simply treat those around me as I would treat Ava. With love, compassion and a smile like I do when I change her stinky, poopie diapers because I don't want her to feel bad or ashamed that I'm wiping up her poopies. I know this isn't an original concept, it's first and foremost found through out scripture. When I read the Bible, I tend to read it as I was taught in Sunday School, I see it as "Bible Stories". Because of this, it is often hard for me to internalize the teachings, they have somewhat of a distance for me as do fairytales. One of the many blessings God gave me when He gave me Ava, was that through her, I can intimately learn how to talk.

He Asked Me if...

2009-09-17T15:00:00.000-07:00

This is how I imagined my life would be like, as we sat in the ever increasing beautiful night at the same cold, stone table with the same small gray heart-shaped pebble embedded into it as we had two years earlier on our first date. On the night of our first date, I was running late due to a last minute client. Rushed and flustered I hurried to get ready, unsure how the evening would go. Sitting in the dark theatre, waiting for the movie to begin, I wondered why? After all this time are we here, together, watching a movie; a moment I waited five years for.
Every year since, Aaron and I have "re-lived" that night. This year we dropped Ava off at my mom and dads house, then we saw 'District 9', a movie I highly recommend, afterward, we went to the nearby Starbucks, got our drinks and sat in the same spot where Aaron fell more in love with me then ever.

So, my answer is no. This is not how I imagined what my life would be like...it's better.

Comfort Food

2009-08-24T14:44:00.000-07:00

It didn't take me a whole day, at times, it just felt like it had. Ava is a very contented girl and can put up with a lot when it comes to her mommy baking, but when she gets to the point when she feels neglected, she will let me know, and very loudly. This is what happened 3/4 of the way through our adventurous afternoon. I spent the whole morning pouring over each of my many cookbooks and lingered on each worn recipe card which reviled a pasta recipe -- that is until I had each of them memorized and a decision was made. I had my heart set on preparing the pasta that was in my traditional Italian book, with the most simplest and whole ingredients of flour and eggs, but since I was using whole wheat flour, I went with a recipe that called for an addition of olive oil and a pinch of salt. I set to work, laying a clear plastic table cloth over my dining room table, and Ava settled in her play pen next to me. I gathered all ingredients and set up the pasta maker.

I was surprised to find that making my own pasta was easier and faster than making my sugar cookies. I found that having a pasta cutter and a ruler were the only tools necessary. After mixing the dough, dusting it with flour I preceded to run it through the maker. With each sheet, I measured the length I needed for my lasagna. The length and width are subjective and depends on the size and shape of the dish you will be baking in, mine measured 4 inches by 12 inches.

I had made ten lasagna noodles and two fist fulls of fettuccine noodles. I didn't have a pasta rack, so I spread the noodles out on all of my cooling racks, this work well, however, the noodles dried with a slight curve in the ends where they were too long for the racks and hung over the edges. After drying the pasta for three hours, it was time to make the lasagna. At this point, Ava needed more attention, so she helped mommy brown the 93% lean ground beef. I honestly can't remember the last time I bought the canned spaghetti sauce, I have been making my own for quite some time. Ava, of course, helped with that too. While the sauce simmered, Ava picked out a movie she wanted to watch. After a long discussion on how that movie is not appropriate for a girl her age, we boiled the pasta. It took only about three minutes to cook. We then drained it and assembled the lasagna and baked it on 350* for about 35 minutes, give or take.

With the fettuccine noodles in the freezer, we made eight nights worth of dinners, and a lunch or two in one afternoon. This was a very realistic task and I strongly urge mothers everywhere to make your own pasta, even if you do it only once it's well worth it. The pasta has such a rich texture and taste to it, which you cannot find in any store bought pastas. In attempts to eliminate an excuse as to why you can't make your own pasta, here is the recipe I used:

2 1/3 C. Flour (I used whole wheat)
1/2 tsp. Salt
2 Beaten Eggs
1/3 C. Water
1 tsp. Olive Oil

Start with the flour and salt in your mixing bowl and make a well in the center. In a smaller bowl combine eggs, water and oil. When fully combined, add to center well in flour mixture. Stir until all combined. Knead, separate dough in half or quarters and put through the machine to desired thickness, cut into desired shape. Dry minimum one hour.

Buona Fortuna!

Getting to the Root of it All...

2009-08-10T14:53:00.000-07:00

In-between feeding a very hungry child and juggling dirty diaper and bottle, I was able to catch an interview with Jillian Michaels from the NBC show, Biggest Loser. She had struggled many years with her weight and was telling how easy little life-changes can be and how great they add up to a healthier life (and a thinner waistline). Most of what she was saying were things I was already doing. I had maintained a size 4/6 for about 6 years and it wasn't until I was pregnant with our first child that I had ballooned to a size 10. I know what your thinking: a size 10? Who is she to complain about that?! I had spent the majority of my life grossly over weight, and when I started gaining with Ava, I became scared. I don't want the "mommy" figure--you know, the figure of the fertility goddess, with the huge boobs and equally big belly, butt and thighs. There's a lot of moms out there that gained more weight than they wanted, and continue to gain with each child they had. I desperately do not want to end up like the moms I have seen. So, when I heard Jillian talk about what our bodies were made to consume. It made so much sense! If we eat what we find growing in the ground, or dangling from trees, our bodies function as they were beautifully designed to. I'm quite sure there were no Cheetos™ or Twinkies™ in the Garden of Eden.

I had already switched to buying potato chips only made from potatoes and a touch of salt (and sometimes pepper), and even though Goldfish™ wouldn't be classified as "natural", Aaron still needed something fun for his lunch, so I switched us to the whole wheat kind. I have always eaten whole wheat bread, and instead of buying cookies from the store, I make my own, eliminating all those nasty "extras" and additives with names I can never really pronounce. I know there is a lot more I need to do for my quest of common-sense eating. And no, I am not going all organic, just trying to eat things I would find in nature and not in a processing lab but, I don't think I'm going to be as extreme as Alice Waters and the "slow food movement". This is just the first in a series I'm blogging on, sort of an introduction. I'll be sharing with you the ease and difficulties as they unfold.

My next task and blog will be on making my own pasta. Whole wheat seems to be all the rage in store-bought pastas; however, they're also very limited, I have only really been able to find whole wheat spaghetti and, well, I like variety.

Ingenuity Meets Ability

2009-08-09T17:10:00.000-07:00

I had waited until Ava was more eager to sit up before I went ahead and moved her from the car-seat in the stroller to the "big girl" seat (3 1/2-4 Months). However, I had a problem: her toys. She loves her toys, after all, they are her friends. She talks to, sings to and even yells at them on a regular basis, but most of all, she eats them. When I had her in her car seat, clicked into the reclined stroller, it was easy for her to have her friends around without me fearing them falling to the ground. So, as I strapped her into her big girl seat, in the Wal-Mart parking lot, it hit me. Ribbon, er-curling ribbon for wrapping. I quickly measured the white string, making sure that when her friends took a flying leap, their fate was not sealed. Ava loved this idea, she even purposefully tossed her friends over board so she could pull them back up with the string. Unfortunately, my very handy and very self entertaining idea looked a bit well, how should I say it? Janky. Wonky. Ghetto-like. Well, something along those lines. Despite all the positive comments and feedback by other moms, I felt extremely self-conscious. When my mother-in-law was up for a visit a couple weeks ago, she saw my idea, and my uneasiness from the presentation. When we were at Jo-Ann's, we spent time in the ribbon aisle, we found a spool of green with brown polka dots and small black snaps. She spent the better half of an evening sewing what I couldn't. Ava loves it and I love it, it's perfect! Thank you!

Before:

After:

Apology #998-1001

2009-08-08T15:31:00.000-07:00

I have spent the last four months apologizing for everything that I have ever done, or at least it feels that way. I have apologized for the voice and tone that is perceived as offensive in my blog, I have apologized for things being continually taken out of context, after all, it is my fault that I haven't written in a way that such errors and misinterpretations were unable to penetrate. I've said I was sorry for being daft enough in assuming my relationship with my mother and my sister was something apart from any relationship I had with my former church. I have even apologized for not giving my mother and sister credit for being by my side after my daughter was born. Again, I assumed that since they were my family, it was obvious they were with me. But, of all my apologies, there is one person whom I have said I was sorry to a multitude of times, so passionately I turned a shade of blue as I used all the breath I had in me. This was to no avail. I begged, I poured out my heart and implored: What?! What else is there for me so deeply, sorrowfully to say I am sorry for? This is what I have begged of one of the few people I most loved and admired, my sister. I loved her more than she ever realized. Everything I had ever done of importance was for her and her family. My whole life, until now has revolved around a family that was not mine. Whatever money I had, it would go to them through either toys, food, activities and almost daily Mochas. I was at her every call, whatever was needed of me, I gave it freely and in all honesty, joyfully. I lived for her family, I loved them with all my heart and I never asked for or expected any thanks or recognition. I was doing what I thought family was called to do for each other. And, foolishly, I thought that when it came time for me to start my family, that my children would have the same kind of love and family support as I had spent the past decade or so giving. I had spent my whole childhood looking up to her, praying that God would help me be like her, now only to understand that she refuses me, refuses my sorrys and my sisterhood, I am now nothing but a forced "chat"--that is, if I wait around long enough to not be ignored. After four long months of this, with the occasional apologetic email and equally heated emails back and fourth, seemingly random grievances had slowly surfaced. It seemed to center around my public feelings of not fitting in to her church. I had posted in a long blog which stated my inability to form and foster relationships and friendships, I had taken the responsibility, which as it seemed was lost on the audience. Again, I passionately apologized for offending her, hurting her feelings, like she was needing. It just wasn't enough. I never could have even imagined hurting her like this. And in all honesty, I am still trying to reconcile in my mind how voicing my thoughts and feelings in all honesty could result in this "sin" and a label in which I am accused of being "narcissistic" and "manipulative." After four months, I understand clearly what is asked:

"The only thing I want you to apologize for is for what you did, for publicly airing your grievances with the church publicly on your blog."

That is the reason for this blog post: I had offended her publicly, so I ought to fully apologize publicly.

What I was extremely upset about was that, by voting in a change to the church constitution, that man-made work is now the measure by which Elders and Leaders are held to and qualified by, instead of the Bible. That is, if you are called by God and are qualified by Scripture, you still would not be allowed, because you might hold views contrary to the modified 1689 LBC, as adopted by that church. We really like the confession, I just think it's seriously dangerous to hold that as high, if not higher in certain circumstances than the Word of God. Leaving the church was not something we rushed into. We did spend a long time in prayer, God was telling us that we needed to leave that church for a very long time, we just didn't listen. My family's there! Leaving that church was, in a sense, leaving my family, at least that's how it felt, and as it turned out a reality. I thought we had made it clear that us leaving that church was Gods plan and that we joyfully accept where God is leading us. In fact, the only reason why we didn't leave that church over a year ago was that they were my family and I didn't want a schism between us. I knew that when we left, no matter if it was a year ago or a matter of months, we would be disconnected from them and the girls and that is not what I wanted. I know that where we are now is still where we would have gone even if I hadn't blogged in response to the situation. So, I am sorry. I am truly sorry for blogging. I am sorry that what I said caused such hate and bitterness. I am sorry for acknowledging shortcomings and my view on disassociating myself from such churches. I am sorry that I publicly posted,

"I belong to a church which now bans those from leadership who believe that Sundays are a day SET APART for worship, meditation on God's instruction and in guiding your family in His Truth."

I have learned that I ought to word my feelings differently, or refrain from any sort of expression. In an email, I was told that "However this doesn't mean our relationship can be restored. In order for that to take place repentance needs to happen. Apologies for hurt feelings is not the same thing as repentance, and so far you've made it clear that you have nothing to repent about even though you have been confronted with your wrong words whether you accept it or not." I actually thought I had repented for offending and hurting those who were hurt, I had taken down the offensive post as evidence of that repentance, but again, it wasn't enough. I am not posting this apology as a means to restore a crumbled and now extinct relationship. I have come to the slow realization I now no longer wish to have that relationship in my life. I have been hurt beyond recognition, but I choose to not demand any sort of acknowledgment, or for that matter, any apology. I think I could live the rest of my life without uttering the word apology again, I feel that it has now lost all meaning.

So, again, I am so sorry for stating my grievances with your church, it was wrong of me. Please forgive me.

The Oregon Trail

2009-08-08T11:22:00.000-07:00

My in-laws were able to visit us from their home in Phelan. Aaron's dad has never had the opportunity to meet Ava in person but thanks to Skype, he's been able to see her and spend some time with us. It was so nice to be able to spend this time with mom and dad. After dad had to leave and get back home for work, mom stayed a few days longer and had planned to drive up to Reedsport, Oregon to visit Katie (Aaron's sister) and her family. This time, I was able to go as well. Since I found out that my family and I were not invited to my nieces' joint birthday party, I was more than relieved to get out of town, make that, out of state to remove myself from a painful situation. Mom, Ava and I left for Oregon on Tuesday, with the plan that Aaron would follow on Friday after work, driving moms car up since she would stay a bit longer. The originally 7 hour trip was stretched with a more than fussy Ava almost immediately upon entering Oregon. We left Chico about 12:30 in the afternoon and rolled into Reedsport close to 11pm. Thanks to Dutch Bros., I was still able to keep my eyes open long enough to set up Ava's Play Pen and inflate my air mattress. By Wednesday, Ava and I were on the phone crying to Aaron. I needed my husband and Ava needed her daddy. His boss was more than understanding and sent Aaron on his way to be with us. The trip was wonderful and God supplied us with a very reasonably-priced motel room not more then 3 minutes away from Katie and Danny's place. Since they have five kids and a three bedroom home, with mom staying with them, we thought it would be better if we got the room down the street. I was amazed we were able to get a good deal, let alone a room at all since it was Dune Fest. We had so much fun! We saw the Elk sanctuary, the Lighthouse, peeked at Dune Fest, got coffee almost everyday at Reedsport Coffee house (the closest Dutch Bros. was an hour away). We went to the beach on Friday, providentially, Danny had the day off so it was the Murrays and the Lords, five adults, six kids the oldest being 11 years and the youngest almost 7 months. On the way to the beach, we bought local raspberry flavored honey at Danny's parents little shop, on the way back, the three of us ate at the neatest restaurant and visited a few little gift shops and tasted some of the best fudge! The Oregon coast is so very beautiful! I had only previously briefly introduced myself to my new sister at our wedding, so this was our first time we were able to spend with each other and hang out like sisters. Ava loved being with her auntie and cousins, she was a little hesitant at first since she wasn't used to being around five kids who all wanted to hug on her and play with her. I think it also might have been Gracie's first time having her mommy hold a baby who wasn't herself.

Like Mommy, Like Daughter...

2009-07-29T21:27:00.000-07:00

Zephaniah 3:17

2009-07-16T18:06:00.000-07:00

Soli Deo Gloria

Over the Last Few Months,

2009-07-14T21:22:00.001-07:00

These are some of the important things that have happened in my life, I would have liked to share them with a sister.

My Very First Mothers Day
My College Graduation
My Thirtieth Birthday
Ava's Milestones
(She's 6 months old!!)

Soli Deo Gloria

I Know...

2009-07-12T18:31:00.001-07:00

My husband already posted this on his blog, but I just LOVE this photo!

A Most Necessary Lesson to Learn

2009-07-07T16:40:00.000-07:00

Perhaps the hardest thing I had to deal with during my decade of college was context. You might not be able to tell, but I have a degree in English, thus ten wonderful years of reading, writing, analyzing, structure and context. I have found two spectrums of this study: creative and analytic. When you approach a text with the creative lens, every word holds meaning, as you read, more time, thought, emotion and definition goes into it. There is a flow, a voice and rhythm with each word and is imperative to seek out the authors voice to better understand what is really being communicated. This form of study has come too easily for me. I tend to communicate within this style and, it has the potential and reality to be misinterpreted when not read within the correct lens.

The analytic style was a bit harder for me to comprehend at first. I remember sitting in my Rhetoric in Writing class, pages behind everyone else. When I met with my professor later that day he wanted to look at my copy of the article we were going through. I was digesting the article the way I always had, scrupulous notes, comments, definitions jammed in the now narrow margins and cross over relationships and sometimes incoherent questions scribbled out or answered. He asked if I were an English Major. Embarrassed I said no, just a Minor. He said that I was approaching the text as though I were approaching a poem or Literature, where every letter, every word and every punctuation held meaning of its own. This was, as he put it a very important and beautiful way to grasp concpepts. And the students who took his class, rarely held this skill. However, this was not the tool in which to approach the texts at hand. Over the following hour, he taught me a new way to see things. To first review the text, then to identify and read the important markers and arguments that which were presented. He showed me where to look for the authors intent and how to identify the arguments which were at first glance unnoticeable. I think I did relatively well in his class, I ended up with a B, even with the unflattering reference I made about Al Gore in my final paper.

This was the catalyst for the direction my studies took me. I tried to approach all of my texts and studies with both of these lenses, I quickly found that in doing this, I gained a more fruitful and deep insight to everything I was to learn. One of my favorite Authors, Ezra Pound, wrote a simple book called ABC of Reading. In chapter 2, he discusses Approach and Language:

It doesn't in our contemporary world, so much matter where you begin the examination of a subject, so long as you keep on until you get round again to your starting point. As it were, you start on a sphere, or a cube; you must keep on until you have seen it from all sides. Or if you think of your subject as a stool or table, you must keep on until it has three legs and will stand up, or four legs and won't tip over too easily.

Language was obviously created, and is, obviously, USED for communication.

In chapter 6, he emphasizes the importance of comparison with an equal, yet opposite form.

You can't judge any chemical's action merely by putting it with more of itself. To know it, you have got to know its limits, both what it is and what it is not. What substances are harder or softer, what more resilient, what more compact.

You can't measure it merely by itself diluted with some neutral substance.

It is important for us, as communicating human beings, to not only take these "academic" tools and utilize them in our everyday interactions, but to internalize them. In doing this, there would be a dramatic decline in arguments, misunderstandings and relationships would be healthy verses destructive. Now, if we are taught in a "secular" educational institution, how we ought to take things into context, look at things in more than one way and fully educate ourselves on the subject or topic before making assertions and guard against unfounded accusations. How much more are we as Reformed believers to do the same, if not more?

There are two mindsets in the "religious" community concerning this idea. Erroring on the side of Love/Grace and "It's your choice to be offended". Of these, I prefer the former so I will explain the latter first as to better explain my stance. When you use the sentence: it's your choice to be offended, you either a) use this as an excuse to continue in blatant, vile sin against those around you, or b) are sinned against doubly. When someone sins against you, instead of seeking repentance and recognition for the offence, you are essentially told: He beat you, stole from you, lied to you, but it's your choice to be hurt by it. It's your choice to be in pain. Thus, turning the victim into the villain for simply expressing the injustice or seeking an acknowledgment or apology for the sinful act done to them. Nowhere does it say in the Bible that it is simply your choice to be offended. It does, however, have verse after verse on what to do when a brother or sister offends you. You go to them, simple as that. You confront them with their sin and reconcile with forgiveness.

God created us capable of every emotion that could possibly be vocalized, and those that even have no words that which could express the depth and magnitude of what we are experiencing. So to deny someone the ability to feel and express that which God had intently created in us, would be to deny that which God had created. When God chose those whom would believe in Him before even time began, He purposed a heart in us, a heart of flesh.

Now, in the secular world, the phrase: Error on the side of Grace, translates to: Give them the benefit of the doubt. In a practical application, if someone that you know, say a co-worker responds to a question with an annoyed tone or snaps at you; erroring on the side of grace would dictate your response to not be hasty in assuming your co-worker is either mad at you or doesn't like you. What you would do (which I fully emphasize is not a natural, innate reaction, but one that is constantly exercised), you would separate yourself from their response; understanding that their world does not revolve around you and they could be dealing with things you are unaware of. When treating those around us with love and complete grace, we need to diligently take note of who they are and who we are. No one is better than anyone else, we are all made of dust and have sinned accordingly.

It grieves me to no end when people who claim their Christianity, throw their offence and sin about as it were a processional, hailing "it's your choice to be offended!" as they continue in their offence. How than, does that show love and grace to your fellow believers? Is that the example Christ set for us? Of course, that is a rhetorical question. Anyone who went to Sunday School as a child knows the answer to that. When Christ did offend, it was the hypocritical "religious" leaders and it was their sin that was the offence, not Christ.

Prov. 18:19 A brother offended is more unyielding than a strong city, and quarreling is like the bars of a castle.

Is. 29:21 who by a word make a man out to be an offender, and lay a snare for him who reproves in the gate, and with an empty plea turn aside him who is in the right.

Job 34:31 For has anyone said to God,
‘I have borne punishment; I will not offend any more;

Matt. 18:35 So also my heavenly Father will do to every one of you, if you do not forgive your brother from your heart.

Mark 11:25 And whenever you stand praying, forgive, if you have anything against anyone, so that your Father also who is in heaven may forgive you your trespasses.

Col. 3:13 bearing with one another and, if one has a complaint against another, forgiving each other; as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive.

Next time you're dinking around online, you might find it interesting to Google: to be offended is a choice.

Yes...

2009-06-29T18:13:00.001-07:00

...that IS a little pink bow in her hair.

Beyond Forgiveness

2009-06-27T21:14:00.000-07:00

Play Time

2009-06-27T15:19:00.001-07:00

On Thursday our friends came over for a visit. The girls played for a while, they both have the same play gym so when we put them next to each other, they were like, "Wait a minute! What are you doing in my gym?!" But, they quickly got over that and decided it was funner to play with a friend.

Green Babies

2009-06-27T12:59:00.000-07:00

On Saturday, we met our friends, Caroline (mommy) and Ashley (baby) at the Green Baby Expo hosted by Chico State. It was a really neat Expo. We made out with a ton of freebies, I even got my hands on an organic stain remover pen which was given to me by the guy who ran the booth, it was the only pen there and was not for sale. At the door, we were given two free DVDs, one is more than kind of weird, something about childbirth without violence, I doubt I'm going to watch it. The other is a neat mommy and me workout. We also received a green reusable grocery bag.

This bag came in very handy. We hooked them onto our stroller handles with our "mommy hooks" and between that and the diaper bag which also hung over the handle, when I removed the counterweight a.k.a Ava, the stroller fell over. I was not as embarrassed as I would have been two years ago, I mainly felt bad for the man who had his child in his arms as he rushed over to my aide suspecting a baby was still in the now toppled over stroller.

I was surprised and delighted to run into so many of our old friends, I'm amazed at how fast time goes by, so much can change that you don't realize it until you talk to those whom haven't been there for those changes. The girls had fun, at least I'm sure they did... they like looking at each other:

My Super Hero

2009-06-27T00:16:00.001-07:00

I have often called my husband, my super hero. You might wonder why. Well, one of the reasons is this: he works all day in front of a several computer monitors, and then comes home and diligently, joyfully works on my seemingly basic and easy projects. On the outside, things may look easy, at least, in my head it's easy, however, when you see all the little steps, the time spent consumed and solutions to un-thought out problems, it's way more complicated than you think. At, least I would think. Even though I was Editor-in-Chief of my H.S yearbook (which was done primarily on computer), I don't know much (ok, that may be an exaggeration, I don't know anything) about computers. So it leaves my hubby to do it all for me, and he does it with such enthusiasm!

I am slowly learning how to do some "basic" things, like adding CSS styles so that I can indent the first sentence of my paragraphs. I even figured out how to make it a block quote, which was cool, but not what I needed. So, long story short, this is the latest endeavor my super hero created for me:

Old blog:

New blog:

(He even does the dishes!)

A Sense of Giddy

2009-06-25T23:12:00.000-07:00

When there is nothing left--
nothing desired and
nothing gained.

There is ability to see.
The raw and flesh reviled,
the buried and hidden now unfolds.

As if invisible arms stretch to embrace--
vulnerable and delighted to be free.

Our Fathers Day

2009-06-23T10:06:00.000-07:00

This was our second Fathers Day. It started for Aaron at 12:01 am Sunday morning as do many of our celebrations. I suffer from C.M.S (Christmas Morning Syndrome) so I seldom sleep the night before fun. Fathers Day was no exception. I laid in bed, wide awake as Aaron sat quietly reading next to me. I couldn't put it off any longer so when our clock read 12:00, I pulled his gifts out and eagerly waited while he opened them. There were two cards, one from me, the other from Ava (Ava's card was much more cute than mine, she even drew a picture of her and daddy inside of it). He got two books, one from me (a Weber's charcoal grilling book) and one from Ava (once again, hers was much cuter, it's called: Daddy's Girl, need I say more?). And finally, a daddy coffee cup that coordinates with the mommy mug I got for Valentines Day.

At church we have been going through the characteristics of a church leader and how they are qualified by scripture. The timing of this study has been wholly providential. It is so beautiful to see how stark the realities of scripture are as compared to the realities of "modern life". It's scary to realize that there are men teaching, leading and pastoring churches when the life they lead and their character are contradictory to the qualifications of scripture. During the month of May, the church had been seeking Congregational nominations for Elders. Aaron and I had discussed at length whom we wanted to submit for Eldership. However, being very new to our church, we didn't think we ought to. God never ceases to amaze. I have been seeing his hand in everything that has unfolded over the past several months. So, on Sunday when our Pastor announced there were two men who were put forward for this most amazing and important office set forth in scripture and established in every New Testament church; it did not surprise me those two men where the men whom we had wanted to recommend for the office. Over the last week, they had been asked, prayed, sought God's will and on Fathers Day, the leaders in our church laid hands on them and prayed over them. I believe that Shane and Miguel are such a blessing and am continually thankful to have them as our Elders.

After service, it was a koinonia (potluck) day, we have them the first and third Sunday of every month. I had made a raspberry and vanilla cake for Fathers Day. I meant to take photos of the very pink cake, however, I hadn't gotten to it while and after I made the cake. I thought that it would be alright to take the pictures of the inside after lunch; since the stripes of alternating vanilla cake, red raspberry filling and creamy light raspberry frosting were so beautiful. At our old church, when I'd make a cake, there was always so much cake left. But my goodness! Even with slicing the cake into one inch wide, two to three inch long slices; Not even a crumb was left! Our Pastor was the fortunate one to get the last piece. He had waited until everyone had eaten. My waist and thighs are very happy to not have any cake left over!

On our way home, I called my daddy to tell him how much I love him. He was all by himself on Fathers Day, so we visited him and he got to play with Ava. He said it was the best Fathers Day present ever, I even noticed he put his Fathers Day card we sent him on the mantel. Ava had a long day at this point so our visit was cut a little short and we took her home to put her down for a nap, or at least tried too. Sunday was a very long day for all of us! For dinner we grilled rib eye, corn and rosemary potatoes. I love our family time, sitting on our balcony, talking and watching Ava explore the outside world, and her bouncy. After we ate and put Ava to bed for the night, I told Aaron to put on any movie he wanted and I pulled out the last of his surprises: Vanilla and Fudge Drumsticks! If you were wondering, the movie he selected was Jaws. Jaws is my all time favorite movie, actually, it is in fact the best movie ever made. I was confused at his movie pick, since it was his day, why had he chosen my movie? He just simply said: What movie do you most associate with fatherhood? Of course, this was a rhetorical question.

You might be a little confused at this point. How on earth could anyone see Jaws and immediately think daddy? Well, it's the same story behind the tattoo I have on my back of the last scene in the movie. You see, it was the movie Jaws that my dad and I bonded over. It was almost fourteen years ago, we were living in a mobile home and it was Saturday. Jaws was on T.V and my dad was in his rocking chair. With nothing to do, I sat down. From that moment on, whenever it's on T.V, no matter where we are, we are both watching. When I was living at home, countless times I'd be jerked awake at four am, by some unseen urge only to go out to the front room and find my dad sitting and watching, I think even waiting. We haven't had a lot of Fathers Days together, I think that's why everyday I am reminded of the love I have for my dad, everyday I wonder what he's doing, how his day was and what his plans are. The strong tie I have with my dad is such a big part of who I am as an adult and as a parent. I continually pray that my daughter will have the same deep, strong and enduring relationship with her daddy as I have with mine...I have a feeling she will.

I Stumbled Upon This...

2009-06-18T11:05:00.000-07:00

I don't know yet if I agree with the results...

Your Personality is Very Rare

Your personality type is dramatic, expressive, proud, and demanding. Only about 4% of all people have your personality, including 5% of all women and 2% of all men. You are Extroverted, Intuitive, Feeling, and Judging.

How Rare Is Your Personality?

Never in a Million Years...

2009-06-13T22:53:00.000-07:00

...Did I expect my Saturday night to consist of feeding my daughter a "new food" (carrots) and a bath in an inflatable pink duckie, squeaky bill and all.

(Video coming soon!)

Cake Decorating 101

2009-06-09T22:11:00.000-07:00

Today was the last day of our cake decorating class. For the final class, we constructed a tier cake. My husband had bought me the most spectacular cake decorating book, so I had the book knowledge of how to construct one. It was so amazing to see the cake in the individual parts then as a whole! But I think the best part of today was watching my mom create her beautiful Victorian style cake. She spent time before hand making a lot of different color roses and even my favorite, a pansy. She also made tons and tons of icing! Ava and I went over to her house a few hours before class so I could finish frosting my individual cakes. I didn't have a 6in pan, so I crudely constructed one out of a disposable heavy-duty foil container, needless to say, my cake was over run with crumbs since I had to cut the sides of the cake down. When we started the class, I had made the decision to just focus on the decorating. I had perfected the ultimate chocolate cake and filling recipe, so I decided to go against my ideals and use those box cake mixes for each class. I can't believe how painful that was to admit! I thought that it would cut down baking time, save my arm and make it so I could spend more time decorating. Thus, extra crumbs.

Oh, yeah, here's my cake. My mom made me the butterfly. Isn't she incredibly talented?

A Cake for Ava

2009-06-09T21:32:00.000-07:00

We celebrated our first family Memorial Day by barbecuing, and I baked a cake. I absolutely love to bake and I had gotten my hands on the perfect marshmallow fondant recipe, so I spent the day playing. I tinted the fondant pink and decorated it with white royal icing. I practiced my dots, my fleur-de-lis, piping and writing. It's not that great of a decorating job. I only have 30% use of my right arm, so you can totally tell where my arm stopped working. I had fun though and the pain which lasted for two days was worth it.

Pictures From Graduation

2009-06-09T20:49:00.000-07:00

The field opened at 7:30am the day of Graduation, so, we were there at 7:15am. I was surprised to run into classmates who were graduating. Technically, I graduated in 2008, but ended up walking in the 2009 ceremony. I was glad to see that I was not alone in this.

A girl I had taken Math with at the same time I was planning our wedding (married in winter 2008), was excited to meet my family, she offered to take our picture. I am so glad she did as this is the only family photo I have from that Saturday.

I asked Aaron if my cap looked ok. He said, "Oh honey, it looks so good!...You wanted it off center, right?"

Grandma and Ava.

My dad is soooooo proud of me! I think he was happier that day than I was!

Can you see me?

Ava slept through the whole ceremony.

Can you see me again? I'll give you a hint: I'm on the ramp.

Nana and Ava.

Oh Goodness!

2009-06-08T12:00:00.000-07:00

It first happened Sunday night. For the last few days I knew that Ava would finally roll over from her back to her belly at any time. Well, late Sunday night she did it! It's still surprising to put her on her back, then look over a second later to see her on her belly. It's only the beginning! For a few weeks, she has been trying her hardest to crawl. She gets her knees under her and with all her might she tries to move forward. I don't know how I'm gonna handle that!

In Progress

2009-06-08T00:32:00.000-07:00

The body stretches and grows
there's nothing left.
A vessel breaks to reveal itself.

Small, weak, now dependent in need.
Should capable help emerge
would it be accepted or submerged?

The small has a voice, muffled and loud.
Eyes concerned and fisted hands
body in constant motion.

-escape unachieved.

Change of Mind

2009-06-08T00:13:00.000-07:00

I felt as though I needed to make my blog private, with the ultimate goal of closing it down, because it seemed every time I sat to write, I offended people. I realize that it is ridiculous of me to stop writing. On my whole blog there are only two blogs that have been called offensive (for which I have apologized) and 60 that I have gotten very positive feedback from. In short, I will continue to write, read my friend's blogs, my husband's blog and post pictures and achievements of our Ava.

Daddy's Little Ava...

2009-06-04T12:40:00.000-07:00

I thought this would be a good end to my "blog". Aren't they so cute?

June 5th

2009-06-04T12:03:00.000-07:00

June 5th is my mom's birthday, so, I baked her a cake! Big surprise, right?
Oh, and Ava helped.

My Heart

2009-06-01T10:04:00.000-07:00

Soon after we got married, my husband persistently brought up the idea for me to have a blog. I didn't want one and had continually teased him for having a blog himself. I believe that his reasoning was that he wanted me to be happy. He knew I love to write, I have a degree in English and did fantasize about publishing a book of poetry. He didn't want me to feel "unfulfilled" in my new life. He wanted me to have an outlet for my creativity. I did worry that my new life of wife, homemaker and eventually mother, would not fully use the gifts that God had given me. How is writing a poem or painting going to aide me in cleaning the house?
That is why I had a change of heart and agreed to have this blog. It was new and exciting. I soon became relieved that now I did have this solace, this space for me to continue to write, even though it is in a different format then I was used to. I treasured the few moments that I had and sought comfort in the time that was mine, to just be me.
Now, I look at my computer in disgust. With all the things that had happened over the last month, we are left with a family that is weaker than before, and trying to find where we are with each other, and with a request to make a blanketed apology for my blog. I don't garden, I don't sew or have a farm. I write. Or, I used to.
I'm sorry that these people, whoever they are since nobody has come to us, or me personally, to bring to light just what I did to hurt their feelings, are offended. But how could I apologize if I don't know to whom or for what?
As of now, I stand in a place where it sickens me to think about writing. Who am I going to offend now? What if someone takes something I write personally when it has absolutely nothing to do with them at all? I feel like what I had, my outlet, my one time for myself, is now tainted. I can't look at my blog again with the same joy that I had.
It's hard to understand that when I am told everything is good, done and over, it's not.

What the Bible Says About Grace

2009-05-29T19:57:00.000-07:00

And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth. (John bore witness about him, and cried out, "This was he of whom I said, 'He who comes after me ranks before me, because he was before me.'") And from his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace. For the law was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ.
John 1:14-17 (ESV)

(My emphasis in bold)

Almost!!!!!

2009-05-28T15:03:00.000-07:00

It's Very Nice, But Quite Deceiving...

2009-05-28T10:11:00.001-07:00

After her morning feedings, I would put Ava down in her playpen next to our bed and try to make Aaron's lunch or do light housework. As a newborn, when she would wake-up alone in our room, she'd cry and cry and cry. But now, she knows that even though I'm not right next to her, I'm still there and could get her when she needs me. She feels safe and loved. So, in the morning, after her feeding and she lulls to sleep in my arms, I put her in her playpen and make my husband his lunch. With the house quiet, I tip-toe into our room to check on her, thinking she's sleeping sweetly, only to find...

It's nice to get things done in the morning without her crying because she's alone, but, just as I'm about to sit down and have a moment to myself before our day starts, I find that the baby I thought was sleeping, is a baby wide awake!

But she's just so cute!

My Day

2009-05-24T14:47:00.000-07:00

I graduated on Saturday, May 23rd. I had not been able to sleep the night before. I think it was a mixture of Christmas Eve Syndrome and last minute details that kept me lying awake. I slept for almost two full hours before our alarm went off at 5:00. We got ready, got coffee and found a great parking spot, which is almost unheard of.
The weather was beautiful and the ceremony went surprisingly fast. It was so amazing to look over and find my husband in a whole crowd of people, smiling and looking so proud of me. I'm not used to seeing that look on peoples faces, let alone on the people closest to me. My dad was so happy. He said that I had done three exceedingly good things in my life: I got married, had a baby and now graduated from Chico State. At my parents house, after lunch we had cake and champagne. My dad's toast was simple and sweet, he said " She finally did something I asked her to do!" He then thanked my husband for keeping his word in promising to help me finish school.
The afternoon was full of surprise and emotion. My grandma gave me the diamond and ruby wedding ring my grandpa had given to her. so we stood, me, my mom and grandma hugging and crying. I wish he were still here. There has been so much I would like to have shared with him. My grandma pointed out, I am the only one in our family to graduate from a University. My mom's a nurse and I have the education and degrees to be a teacher, but for now, I think I'm going to work on growing my family.

Let Them Eat Cake...

2009-05-21T16:19:00.000-07:00

I love to bake, which is probably an understatement. I have had a few job offers for some bakeries in town, and I had been too scared to accept due to my self-taught decorating techniques (if you could call them "techniques"!) So, when my mom and I went to one of my favorite stores, The Galley, for a quick demo, I was overjoyed to sign-up for a full cake decorating class. What made it even more enjoyable was the fact that my mom and I are taking the class together. For the first class we decorated cupcakes and for our second class, a 9-inch cake. The class was Tuesday and I had Bunco on Wednesday so I used that to my advantage and took my cake with me.

Before class, we had to have had the cake baked and frosted so it would be ready to decorate. I ran out of white frosting, so my cake still looks rugged and not as smooth as I had hoped. I did three Posies and the purple star boarder in class. I wanted to practice and continue playing so, Wednesday before Bunco while Ava napped, I got busy.

I began with a flower for Aaron, I used it as a practice opportunity!

Aaron's finished flower.

Ta-dah!

Yummy! There were only three slices left.

I Turned Away for Just a Moment...

2009-05-20T14:34:00.000-07:00

It's Almost Time!

2009-05-20T14:29:00.000-07:00

As I was ironing my gown, I couldn't help think about my High School graduation and how my mom had ironed that gown. Now I'm the mom, ironing my own gown for my college graduaton. I also thought of how I got here. My family knows how long it has taken me to earn my Degrees, but looking back it seems like just yesterday I was at Butte. I can't believe how nerves I am!

There's a Letter I Need to Write

2009-05-10T14:26:00.000-07:00

It seems as though when one thing in your life falls apart, it starts a landslide and everything around you crumbles. Friday night God answered a prayer that had overwhelmed us as a family for quite some time. We had wavered in the follow-through with what seemed His direction. Tossing different possibilities back and fourth. Talking out all the things that would prevent us or aid us in a decision we were not ready to face. God had presented us with such a clear answer, we just couldn't ignore it anymore. We left our church, we left my family, and soon we realized that we had to fully rely on God's grace, God's providence and God's sovereignty like we had never really had to in the past. Perhaps the final catalyst was so hard and painful because we failed to take the path God had for us. I just wasn't ready to say goodbye to my sister and my beautiful nieces. I spent all night Friday feeling emotionally raw, like I had been gutted out with a dull knife, but when Saturday morning came, God provided us with beautiful encouragement. We thought that we had to leave behind everyone we had loved, but I found that we still had friends. My heart jumped and I knew that we were finally doing what God had directed us to do. There was utter peace in that.

However, my mind was still a little clouded as I set about enjoying my Mother's Day weekend. My loving, strong husband said I could do whatever I wanted to do. So, I got my hair done. We went to my old workplace and I was able to catch up on friends that I hadn't seen for awhile. That's when I got the news. Shortly after I had left work to be a housewife, my closest friend and boss moved out of state with her husband and two sons. A few weeks ago, her 15-year-old son was hit by a car and died. Dealing with such loss that I couldn't imagine, a crumbling marriage and emergency quadruple-bypass heart surgery; she was alone. States away from her family and friends. When I just wanted to reach out and hold her, to comfort her and love her; I prayed and I haven't stopped praying for her. Trying to mull through all of the thoughts, ideas and fears, I went on with my weekend. We had planned to go over and spend Sunday with my mom, so I made potato salad and a Waldorf cake. I must say that it was hard to focus on baking a cake with my mind so befuddled, but it turned out beautifully. We had decided to visit dear friends of ours that we had known from our previous church. It was so amazing to be embraced by our fellow brothers and sisters! It felt calm and I enjoyed every moment, even the awkward "I think I know you" ones. My mom as it turned out caught the stomach bug so after the service we dropped her gift off and picked up some chicken. I set the table and with my husband and daughter, we had lunch.

With all the grace God has seen fit to show us, I have been able to take every thing in stride. I'm learning to not focus on what I want, but on what my family needs and what the people God has surrounded me with need. So there's a letter I need to write, I pray that God will guide my thoughts and words as I try to express my sorrow in what my mentor and friend has lost and is losing. I pray that He gives me the words to encourage her, just as He had given to those whom He sent to encourage us.

The Ninth

2009-05-08T21:20:00.001-07:00

"You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor."

Exodus 20:16 (esv)

Soli Deo Gloria

I Really Do Feed Her...

2009-05-05T23:23:00.000-07:00

She just gets a little impatient.

Jeepers, Look at Those Peepers!

2009-04-29T11:05:00.000-07:00

Aaron and I had our eye Doctor appointment this morning. What had been a joke before having kids, is actually a real possibility. We both have one eye that is quite bad, they just happen to be the exact opposite. My left eye is weak and Aaron's right eye is weak. We had joked that poor Ava could end up inheriting both bad eyes and end up pretty much blind, since she wouldn't be able to handle such extreme differences. Well, Dr. Meyers confirmed it's a real possibility. He was able to take a look at her eyes and so far, she's taking after her mommy. Ava's far sighted.

A Dedication

2009-04-20T16:06:00.000-07:00

This is not to be confused with baby Baptism or Christening (I think it's way beyond ridiculous to baptize a baby. They can't even comprehend the function of pooing, let alone be able to stand accountable in the decision to follow Christ). What we wanted was a prayer for our daughter, and a public confession of our responsibilities as parents. To pledge, to promise to raise our daughter as God has instructed and to ask the church to stand with us as parents, to keep us accountable, to aid us and support us. That Sunday Dedication was special to us as a family and as a Church. Ava was the first baby to be Dedicated in Sovereign Joy, and she was our Pastor, my brother in-law's first baby Dedication.

Finally!

2009-04-20T15:33:00.000-07:00

Ava has been all smiles for a little over a month now, but every time I got the camera out to capture her beautiful smile, I was too late and missed it.
Sunday, after we had her dedicated at church, we had some quiet family time on our bed. We video taped Ava rolling over and cooing. I was also playing with the different functions on my camera and after 100 photographs...

She wanted me to take a picture of her favorite foot...

She was then shocked to hear that I wanted her to take a nap...

Lilies

2009-04-19T18:14:00.001-07:00

I love it when my husband buys me flowers!

Flutter By

2009-04-16T15:19:00.000-07:00

Flutter by,
with wings of translucent color,
gentle as wind
on a spring day.

Reds, blues, oranges and yellows-
colors collide,

that which previously dismiss.

Our Family Easter Photograph...

2009-04-12T23:16:00.000-07:00

It's okay, you can laugh, I still am.

Things That Can Be Done in a Decade

2009-04-09T21:26:00.000-07:00

Go to Beauty School (and no, not be a beauty school drop-out)
Move out of your parents house
Go to a Community College
Get a job at SuperCuts
Get 4 Tattoos
See 260 movies
See your first half a turkey
Get your tongue pierced
Drink 3,600 Raspberry Mochas
Try to grow your hair out 30 times
Work on 2 movie sets
Take your sister to get her 1st tattoo

Get your haircut 60 times
Color your hair and get low lights 65 times
Get 40 Mani-Pedi's
Read Moby Dick twice, find at least 3 metaphors surrounding the whale, Ishmael and his first supper.
Get plugs
Quit SuperCuts
Move back in with your parents
Get a job at GreatClips (for way more money)
Lose 130 pounds
Move out of your parents house
Get in a fight with your best friend
Buy 100 purses
Renew your Drivers License twice
Finally talk to your best friend after 2 years
Tell your favorite joke 1,000 times (and laugh every time)
Move into your sisters garage (now craft room)
Buy 2o high heels and 10 flip-flops
See Jaws on the big screen
Get married

Get your first ticket
Have a kid

Get your nose pierced 3 times
Perfect the ultimate Lane Cake
Watch Jaws 1,001 times (hands-down, the best movie ever made!)
Read The Brothers 5 times
Fall in love with Pound, Dickenson and Kerouac
Oh yeah...

...and a minor in English.

It's Easier Than You Think...

2009-03-24T13:44:00.000-07:00

...Forgetting you're a mommy. That is, until God sprinkles in those days that hit you with reality like concrete. For instance, when you take your baby to get her two month shots and spend the next hour crying louder then she is as you rock her, wailing "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!" repeatedly. Then, after the crying stops, decide to go ahead and go to Chico State to tie up lose ends before graduation. In which, after waiting an hour for your appointment in the Evaluations office, finally sit down to talk to the adviser, on cue, your daughter sets her mind to scream. She then decides to scream from one end of campus to the next. You would think more Chico State students would be familiar to the screams of a baby, after all, it does have one of the best child development programs around.

Or even the day when you take your daughter to her favorite store, Target. When in the middle of blissful shopping you smell her poopie diaper. By time you get her on the changing table in the handicapped stall, diaper half way off, you come to the realization that feeding her is the more pressing matter (one in which the entire occupants of the restroom would agree). Thus, spending the next half-hour hunched over the changing table feeding her and amazingly, finish changing her at the same time.

So, last night as my husband and I laid in bed listening to Ava coo sweetly in her sleep, he posed this question to me:

Do you feel more like a mother, or more like a wife?

Honestly? I just feel like me.

A Family History

2009-03-05T11:10:00.000-08:00

On our bookshelf sits five photos that are dear to me. The first photograph is an Easter portrait of my sister and I from 1979, complete with a painted lemon yellow sun and pastel colored plastic eggs. The next one is a Christmas portrait from 1980, we're sitting in front a backdrop with a cozy fireplace. Every time I look at these two pictures I am overwhelmed. My mom had it hard raising us. We lived on Government cheese, butter and rice in a house rented out from my great-grandma. And that's when we were in a "better" position in life. Before that, it was by the unfailing grace of God that we survived life. These photos stand as mementos of sweet times that were knitted within times that I am thankful to forget. But, I often wondered, how we could afford these luxuries in a time when we were given five dollars a day for groceries. That thought leads me to the next photo that I treasure. It's from June 21st, 1975. It's the wedding photograph of my grandma and the love of her life, Elmer Hooker, my grandpa. My sister and I come from a long line of very strong and dominate women; this was our method of survival. My grandma helped my mother in ways that cannot be counted. She taught her to be strong, and to fight for us. My grandma also was responsible for those photographs, without which, those sweet times would have been suffocated out by the dark ones. And now, when I look at the last two pictures on our bookshelf I see them through the lens of the first three. They are my daughter, Ava's first valentines photographs. She is my sweet angel and I am thankful that she wont have to deal with the things I had to in my childhood. However, I am thankful that I experienced the things I did in my own childhood because it has taught me to cherish every moment and every struggle in my new life as a mommy.

"Oh,That's Normal."

2009-01-21T12:35:00.000-08:00

I laid in bed for two hours timing my contractions. At 2 am I had enough, I shook Aaron awake and we headed to the hospital. It was January 8th. In triage I progressed to 4 centimeters but in the following 8 hours, Ava decided she wasn't ready. Our Doctor sent us home to rest, fully expecting us back a few hours later. We didn't go back. He instructed me to ignore the timing of the contractions because they could at times be inconsistent. Everyday my sister would call to check on me, I'd tell her that my cramps hurt the same, sometimes even worse then before. She'd say, "Oh, that's normal."

This went on for several days.

I woke up January 12th excited and giddy, this was our one year wedding anniversary! I had a lot to do before Aaron got off work. Several weeks earlier, I had the top of our wedding cake reordered along with the beautiful orchids to decorate it with. We had taken the original top on our honeymoon to enjoy and the thought of eating year old cake didn't appeal to me. So, at ten o'clock I headed out with horrible cramps. I got coffee to help me feel better and then ran my three errands. When I finally made it home, I laid on the couch, ate almost a whole bag of m&m's and watched my soaps. As the day progressed into early evening I found it increasingly harder to move around the house, but it was nothing that I couldn't handle. After all, it's "normal". I made one of Aaron's favorite dinners and waited very anxiously for him to get off work. Mom and Andi decided to call several times and irritate me to the point that Andi decided to call Aaron and talk to him instead. they were making arrangements for Ava's delivery.

I continued to watch the clock, where was Aaron? At this point I was more then irritated. I called him and yelled at him to come home. When he arrived I yelled at him some more, I told him that we were going to eat dinner, enjoy a special dessert and then go to the hospital. We ate, or rather he ate as I tried to hold in the cramps. We toasted with sparkling white grape cider by candle light and then I yelled at him to clear the table then go into the bedroom so I could set up the surprise. At this point, I'm doing the "potty dance" to hold Ava in.

I was able to set up the cake, but then I gave in and told him that we should go to the hospital, I couldn't even blow out the dinner candles. On the way to the hospital, the cramps subsided. I thought we could probably go home, it could have just been gas.

Aaron didn't listen to me.

He dropped me off at the entrance and while he parked I went to the maternity wing and waited for the nurses to finish visiting. I told them that I was having really bad cramps. They asked how far apart were the contractions, I didn't know, I wasn't paying attention.

It turns out I was 8 centimeters. By the time I made it into the delivery room, given my neubane shot I was told to start pushing. 6 or 8 pushes later, I met my daughter and the pain medicine finally kicked in. Who knew I could handle "natural" childbirth.

It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be.

Bug

2008-12-22T13:18:00.000-08:00

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

2008-12-09T14:10:00.001-08:00

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

2008-12-08T12:08:00.000-08:00

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

2008-12-08T00:01:00.000-08:00

...Christmas!

First things first... Dutch Brothers.

Our lovely self-portrait.

The finishing touch...

Ta-da!

Thirty-Two

2008-11-26T10:59:00.001-08:00

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...

2008-11-15T11:33:00.000-08:00

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...

2008-11-14T11:25:00.000-08:00

I Learned Something Today...

2008-11-06T10:37:00.001-08:00

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

Ode To My Knuckle

2008-11-05T17:48:00.000-08:00

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

2008-10-27T17:50:00.000-07:00

Hee, Hee, He...