Unrecommended

I am just going to be completely honest here, and here's the forewarning- it's going to sound like a pity party even though it's not really meant that way. No pity, please. 

If you know me well, though, you know that writing out my thoughts is therapeutic (as in I have kept journals, written poetry, blogs, letters, notes... For as long as I can recall). I don't really want to unload this on my children, because they're children, and there are no adults here. And when I talk about emotional things I start crying and get snot faced, and when I'm sick, I cry and cough and gag and it's a mess. I also get pretty tongue tied and mix up nouns for no reason sometimes... So... Writing it is. I've prayed and cried it all out to God, but there's just something about writing to also help me process, and I often tell myself there might be someone out there struggling to pinpoint their own thoughts or feelings that may resonate with what I say.

But truthfully, I feel bad considering writing this, and even worse actually doing so, because my life is not nearly as difficult as countless others out there and I'm so very fortunate in so very many ways that it feels like I should just silence my thoughts and be simply grateful for the life that I have. I AM grateful for the life that I have, and for the countless blessings bestowed upon me and my children during this stressful time.

But yet, here's how I feel...

This past month has sucked- not all of the moments, but overall, it's been wretched and I want to just curl up in a ball in my bed and sleep for a few days because every part of my body, my mind, my spirit, my emotions, and my ambition is exhausted.  I used to tell the kids not to say "sucks" or forms of it, but during this isolation time, I agreed it was an acceptable description of the circumstances.  I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired while being a mom.

In the past, when I've gotten really sick, I've still been a mom, and really in those times the only parent around. This time is different in that their dad came back to their lives, but it's still very similar in that basically, because of the circumstances surrounding the Covid-19 pandemic, I'm the only parent around. They live with me and therefore they are considered contagious or potentially so, and they've had to quarantine with me while I have been "isolating" for a month.  And, since I can't "isolate" myself from them because they're not self-sufficient (or cannot be trusted) even when I'm finally better, they're supposed to be quarantined here. I feel absolutely terrible, guilty, ashamed, angry, and sad for their little hearts having to have not only been stuck here in this apartment for over 30 days now, but with a mom who is sick and tired of being sick and tired, who has little energy or ambition, and less patience than normal, although every effort is made for patience, grace, and mercy.  The only upside is that when I'm finally feeling better, at least I will hopefully be able to provide more enjoyment for them during this time than I currently have been, though goodness knows I've tried. 

I feel like I try so hard. I push to play games, listen to their stories, anecdotes, ramblings, and songs, cuddle, do creative things, watch movies, cook, and enjoy each other. I try so hard to be persistent and encouraging with the distance learning for school, which it seems, no matter what, ends in tears for at least half of us on a daily basis because the environment right now is not conducive to actual learning and it feels like  a chore or punishment to work through in such an array of distracting situations.  I feel like I fall short from their expectations or hopes though, and that slays me. 

• I know I'm not alone in my feelings, I just haven't had a homework assignment telling me to write about it yet.

In times past, when I've gotten sick, even though their dad was MIA, sometimes the boys could go to school, Norah could go to daycare, or friends or family could take them to church, or on a date, or hang out with them so I could rest. 

This time, that has all basically been stripped away because of coronavirus. 

So there's the diagnosis and the insanely long recovery time that I was finally working through, and then pneumonia hit me and set me back to basically square one. And while that's not an illness that would itself cause this isolation to continue... It's all wrapped up in the coronavirus pandemic. 

I worry my kids are suffering because of this. I know they're technically fine, and I know they know I don't feel well. Some days I had been doing better than others, and it has been such a rollercoaster all along, I feel like it's so hard for them to understand or anticipate and it's incredibly frustrating for them. It has to be, because it is for me. 

This month-long illness for me has been one unlike any other.  I cannot even fathom what it would be like to be a single parent with a terminal illness and it breaks my heart so heavily to think that there are people out there who have that reality as their life story. 

The doctors and advice all say to rest and not stress... And it just feels impossible when you're the only parent of three children in the home. 

528 out of 10 : I do not recommend getting sick when it means the world shuts down around you and locks you away like it does during the covid-19 pandemic. I do not hold strong opinions one way or another on the way the government and population are approaching things, because I see many facets of thinking and how many options are simultaneously good and not so good. 

I don't understand why this has happened. I do know that, just like every other difficult, overwhelming, exhausting, or traumatic thing we have been through in the last 7 or so years, we will come out declaring that God is still good (because He is). I am just... a beautiful mess singing a broken hallelujah, I suppose. 

Sorry, that was heavy and long. 

Thankfully, while I was writing this, worship music and prayers playing in the background gave me the press I need to carry on and try to tackle this day too. 

Special thank you to anyone who has prayed over us during this time, sent mail, texts or other messages, brought groceries or meals, helped us stay afloat, and so much more. I can't even imagine how much more difficult this would have been without you.

You've Got a Friend

It's been said many times that as we get older, it gets more difficult to make friends.  Maybe it's not necessarily difficult to make them, it just isn't as easy to come across them, I suppose.

I have found this to be true.  I look at my children, and they will make friends almost instantly. Sure, most won't be lifelong friends, and half of the time, these "new friends" are people they'll never see again, but they're so non-judgmental and uninhibited in their friendship making that it's something in which I find myself awestruck.

I remember being in kindergarten, like my oldest is now, and making new friends.  Thanks to the technology of my generation, I am actually still friends with many from my youngest school-age years, even if we aren't close, we can connect on Facebook and keep up with each other's lives.  I am still friends with my high school best friend, and my college best friend as well.  I have a handful of online best friends who have also been there for 16 years or so.

I have been blessed with the fortune of making a few really close friends in the end of my college years, as well as a really close friend in the beginning of my motherhood years.  I have one close friend from my the end of my childbearing years as well (that makes me sound much older than I am, I suppose).  

I then found my world quaking and myself withdrawn and secretive about it.  My walls and my guard went up, and I shut myself down in many ways.  I got a new job and met new people, but I didn't really allow myself to make friends with them for a while. I was terrified that what they would find, they would not like, and then I would be an outsider who was nothing but drama and chaos.  

As time went on, I opened up to some, and grew quite close.  I gained a few of my current closest friends in life at that job, and I am so very blessed.  Through that job, I began attending my church, where I have met even more people, that I would consider to be more than just acquaintances, they're my friends.

Much of these friendships, while I wouldn't say are superficial in any way, are not deep-rooted at this time, though many have the potential to be so.  I hope that more become rooted as time goes on.

That said, this evening, I had an experience that caught me off-guard.

It was a transitional experience, I think.

I think I made a new friend.

This friend.. well, I've known her a while, and I thought of her as my friend at church anyway, but as I said, not necessarily a deep rooted friendship.  But tonight, I found myself feeling like a school-age child as I went home, realizing I had exchanged phone numbers with my friend and text her a couple times.

Now, this friend, I've seen her and conversed with her many times, topics both light and deep, and we've exchanged quite a few hugs. I always enjoy seeing her, and I have hoped she felt the same.

Tonight though, I don't know what really switched.  Perhaps nothing really did, except that I really sat down and realized I had this friend, who had been there for quite some time, and she really did want to pursue my company and my friendship.  She told me "I love your heart."

Immediately after, the enemy was on my back telling me that people couldn't really "love my heart," it was just something you say to be nice.

Ugh.  At least I knew it was a lie.

It got me thinking about making friends as an adult.  As a mom.  As a single mom.  As someone who had recently let down her guard in a big way, and is allowing new people in without them really having to "prove" that I could trust them, because I'm not nearly as guarded as I was even a few months ago.

Where I am in life, I do not get out much. I go to work most hours of the week, I go to church, and I go to the grocery store.  That's pretty much it for any invested time regularly.  So, in line with my invested time, most of the meaningful friendships I've been blessed with over the past two years are through work, and one that was mostly through church.

But tonight, I realized I made a new friend, in my new season of life, with my new hope and my new faith.  And for some reason, that seems like a big deal. I am excited to get to know her better in the time to come, and I am so very thankful that she feels the same way.  

I have been so very blessed by the rich friendships I carry in life, especially through the hardest struggles and deepest valleys I've been through.  But, there's always room for new friends, too.

Breathe. Overcome.

Overcome, overcame, overcomer... this is a trio of words that two friends consistently call me, or refer to as my words.  I hear them say this, I feel where they're coming from, but I don't always see it or feel it as truth.  

Here's a little story of the last 18 hours or so, and how I went from feeling defeated and overwhelmed to realizing that I really am an overcomer.  I apologize in advance if at the end it really was hard to follow or see the point.  But, I just need to type.

I never really chose these words as "mine" but they keep coming back again and again.  Now, yes, I have a relationship with God, but as many, I often have times hearing what he's trying to say to me.

I wrote recently about doorways, and how I'm closing one door from the manipulative marriage I was in, and moving forward to whatever is beyond the next door.   I have been through fires and trials, and somehow, I'm still able, most days, to laugh, smile, and relish in the many joys that God bestows upon me.  

Some days, though, I still falter.  I grapple with negative thoughts, fears, and worries.

This past week was a week filled with the grappling.  I've stayed up late mulling over the what-ifs and fearing what may or may not come in the future.  It's been EXHAUSTING.  I had a beautiful reprieve yesterday when I was able to spend a few hours with some long-time friends, allowing my children to play with theirs, and to voice some of these issues and talk through them without children in ear shot.

But for some reason, when I left their house last night and my children fell asleep in the van, they came flooding back, more intense than before.  Fears like... "if I were to die on a weekend, how long would it be before someone was wondering where I was, and how long would my children remain scared, hungry, tired, and alone."   

Now, this fear has plagued me since I first had a baby, and my husband worked overnights.  It would fall into the background from time to time, but it's always been there.  

When I finally returned home, the children were all still asleep, and I had a text from one of my friends who speaks "overcome" to me.  She was asking how I was, and my fingers flew across the keypad on my phone as I emptied my heart to her again.

I had been only half-clinging to God throughout the week, and more clinging to myself, my mind, my strength, my fears.  I knew it even if I couldn't say it.  But, then God reached out and grabbed me, and brought me back to Him.

She called, I didn't answer the first time, but she called again, and I laid down my pride and I answered.  She talked with me, let me cry, and prayed with me.  When she was done, a song I cling to that comes to me often at the perfect time, started on the van radio.  It was the first song I think I heard the entire drive home.  

"Lord, I need you.  Every hour I need you.  My one defense- my righteousness..."  It hit me, as it always does, like he was calling out to me to call out to Him.

She suggested I listen to one specific song when I got home.  I never got to it, unfortunately, because the three children all woke up very upset, and I went through and extensive bedtime routine before getting them to sleep.  At that point, I opened my Bible, which I have admittedly neglected this week, and began reading where I left off.

I laughed to myself as I realized God was showing me what just happened in the van, (as it has many times before) and how it's been His plan for me all along to have that sort of thing happen when I need it most.  As my friend says frequently, I'm not meant to go at it alone, after all.  It happens when I start feeling like I'm crumbling, I find a friend or two that build me up.   I sat there, amazed, though I shouldn't have been, I'm sure, by the verse.  I prayed then that I could be that person for someone else who may need it.  I still pray that.  I've always prayed that, actually.

I digress.  I then began apologizing to God for not trusting Him through the week and worrying so much about things I can't control, that He has under control, and things I can't begin to work on yet while I'm still before the next door in my journey.  I felt a sense of relief, and started sobbing. 

God often speaks to me through music, and right before my friend text me to check on me, I started humming a melody.  It took me only a few moments before I realized what song I was singing.  It's an old favorite called "Breathe on Me" by Jennifer Knapp.

The key lyrics that came to my mind were:

No temptation seize a man that he can't overcome.

Who am I to be fallen?

Crack your back on a slab of wood

come freedom, nail it down, I come crawling

I come crawling.

Come trickle down and save the world

two hands that I can't see

come breathe, come breathe, come breathe on me.

Split rib water, blood and bone,

come now, come Calvary.

Come breathe, come breathe on me.

Testimony come now quickly, whisper in my ear

Celebration

Peace at last not far away, 

empty sheet, a borrowed grave

Salvation

Come freedom come.

Exhausted, I fell asleep on the couch.

This morning, when I woke up to Norah in my bed, stealing my covers, I realized she had slept better last night, than she had in weeks.  She only woke up once (yes, she still sleeps like a newborn).   I went to church, excited as I am every Sunday for that last 8 or so months.

Two songs brought me to tears.  The first was the song that my friend suggested I listen to last night but never did, "Great Are you Lord," by All Sons and Daughters.

She even quoted it to me last night, "It's Your breath in my lungs."  Another breath related word.  Breathe is another message I find myself getting often because I really forget to breathe in the right air sometimes.  

The second song, talked was "No Longer Slaves" by Bethel Music.

You unravel me with a melody,

you surround me with a song

of deliverance from my enemies

til all my fears are gone.

I'm no longer a slave to fear,

I am a child of God.

As I mentioned, I have been dwelling on fears.  Last night, when we prayed, we prayed that be broken.  And here it was, again.  That, and the first line... that's totally me.  I already mentioned that also, God speaks to me through song quite often.  I find he speaks to me through song, through a few close friends especially, and through the Bible readings when I get over myself and my need to do other things with my time and sit down and read it.  I'm working on it.

Today, the message was about overcoming offenses.  I immediately flashed back to a book, "The Bait of Satan" that I had borrowed from my friend and read a few months ago. When I read that book, I felt such a release.  I forgave and moved on from offenses I had been holding onto at the time.  It was such a blessing.

I had said to my friend last night that I wasn't sure what else was burdening me, and we prayed I would see it so I could release it.

Well, there it was.  As soon as I saw the title of the sermon I knew.  I had latched on to new offenses since then, and I needed to overcome them.  A fresh freedom is what I needed.

So, I listened, reflected on the book and the message.  And when the pastor prayed, I released again.  I still need to work, I will admit, because some offenses run deeply. But, I truthfully don't want to hold onto them.  So, I'm working and praying on it in the days ahead.

He mentioned this verse:

This verse, for a few months, has been the screen lock on my phone.  "I have overcome the world."  I see it daily.  Today, I realized I have been seeing it, but I haven't been really reading it.

After church, my other friend said to me again, something along the lines of "how'd you like that?  It was your word again."

It was. 

I sit here, this afternoon, my children with their aunt and uncle a few hours so I can clear some of the clutter from our apartment, and I feel much lighter, not totally.  I still need to figure out what else is burdening my heart and work through it.  But, I'm sitting here with clearer mind, again, seeing my words.

Overcome.  Breathe.

I can do both.  I have done both.  God's done the overcoming for me and He's the air I breathe. 

And my weary heart is going to be okay.

Acoustically...

Music has always been one of my passions. It's been a true love for as long as I can recall. 

I began singing when I was a toddler, and to this day, my life is (almost an unofficial) musical. Heck, my sister, the other day, said as she walked in the door and I was singing something random "your life really is a musical."

I asked for a guitar for a few years before my parents gave me one for Christmas in 2000. I taught myself to play. I was incredibly self-conscious about it (I still somewhat am) and would stop playing if I knew people were eavesdropping. I never became "that good," but can play a few songs decently well.

The majority of the time, if given a choice, I would prefer an acoustic version or cover of a song over the original. Acoustic music is my real soft-spot.

I am incredibly fortunate that my love of music entwined with the love of my life- Jake. Around the time that I got my first guitar, 40 minutes from my house was a teenage boy who also got his first guitar. I didn't know him at the time, but the coincidence, to this day, in timing, still amazes me. 

When we met, we both were still learning. We played guitar together and learned songs together. More often than not, he taught me, but I do recall teaching him a few, like "Wonderwall" by Oasis, and "Be Like That" by 3 Doors Down. We would sit in my room (usually) and play. We would sing. We would fall in love with music while falling in love with each other.

So many memories of our courtship revolve around our acoustic guitars. He learned to play my favorite songs to surprise me. He wrote me a song once and played it at open mic night as a surprise. I wrote him a song, and recorded a video of it and played it for him. 

I hear many songs on the radio, but instead of the famous radio versions, I hear Jake, singing alone, simply with the acoustic guitar. I fall in love with him every time, even if he's not near me.

Tonight, as I lay in bed trying to fall asleep, I heard an acoustic version of a song I had not heard before, by a cover artist both Jake and I have been find of for a while.  When the music stopped, and I was lying in the silent darkness, I was taken back to college...

I was actually visiting him for a weekend, and we were spending time at his (and his roommates') apartment, when he asked me to pack up the guitars.  He didn't explain, but I obliged his request, and he lead me to a part of the college campus I had never been to before. We headed to the racquetball courts.

And there, I experienced such a wonderful acoustic concert, as he lead me to the center of the court, then went and shut off the lights so it was completely blacked out. Rising through the dark silence was his guitar, as he slowly made his way around the court, playing and singing some of the songs he knew at the time (including Avril Lavigne's "I'm With You,") and the sounds just catapulted to the ceiling and enveloped the entire space. It was electrifying. When he had finished his set, he had me join, and together, we played and sang together, etching the memory into my heart and embedding it on my mind.

It's almost as if I can hear the residual echo tonight, as my eyes finally grow heavy. 

What a lullaby.

I may not play as often as I once did, but Jake still does. He plays frequently, and he plays very well. Both of our boys have fallen in love with the acoustic guitar concerts that have become a part of our life soundtrack. 

Livin' on a Prayer.

Prayer.  It's an interesting concept.  You sit and you talk to someone who "isn't there."  He's not there visually, of course.  If you're a Christian, the concept isn't so crazy.  If you're not, you might think of a Christian as a crazy person, talking to a hallucination.   As a Christian, I have known prayer... for a long, long time.  I'm not sure when I learned to pray, but I remember saying my bedtime  prayers as a little girl.  I still begin my bedtime prayer the same every night:

Now I lay me, down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep.  Keep me Jesus, through the night, and wake me with the morning light.

"Make a Wish" ©Nicole Worthley

I used to do the more elaborate version, in which the second sentence was, If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take; if I should live another day, I pray the Lord to guide my ways...  but I went through a period after my cousin, who was 2, drown, in which I was terrified of dying because I didn't want to leave my family, and I cut that part out because it would torment me and keep me from falling asleep.   Now, I occasionally switch it up, but the shorter version comes so natural.

It used to end with with, God bless Mommy, Daddy, and everyone, Amen.  

Now, it ends with, God bless my husband, my children, my family... and then it ensues with a longer list of prayers, musings, thoughts, questions, etc.

I admit, I don't pray as much as I should probably pray.   I am guilty of usually only praying at night, and if something goes "wrong," or when I'm at certain family homes and we're eating meals, or at church.

But, lately, especially, I've taken on a lot of prayer.  Still, mostly at night, but now it's starting to infiltrate into other parts of the day.  I know it's mostly because of our current hardship.  But, I also feel like it's just an evolving sense of faith.  I've gone through prayerful periods before.

What's new, now, I noticed today, is that for the past few weeks, if I am driving and in the vehicle alone, I pray.  And, sometime its out loud.  Yeah.  Woah.  I haven't prayed an impromptu prayer aloud since my camp counselor years when it was a common occurance to lead a prayer aloud.     Then, I always felt a bit of stage fright, though, knowing it was in front of tons of people.

I have, apparently, without really thinking about it or planning it, started praying, aloud, driving.  I noticed the other day when I was driving across town in traffic that I was praying, and that's when I looked back, thinking of the last few weeks and how that happens.  Yesterday, I decided, after it came to my attention what I was doing, that I would spend my entire commute talking with, or to, God.  No excuses.

It was a great drive, I must say.

I can't say that I'll be up for praying aloud, publicly, any time soon, but it feels really good to do it privately.

Now, after noticing that, I feel like I should really incorporate more prayer into my life and our home.  I feel like we should introduce bedtime prayers to Spencer.  He's two, so he won't "get it" necessarily, even if we do explain.  I'm not sure how to explain really.  I've never "done" God stuff with a toddler before.  I feel like we should pray before meals when we eat together, and even if we don't, I can still pray.  I feel like, maybe, Jake and I should really make the effort to pray together.

So, the title... it immediately came to mind when I decided to write another blog tonight.  I didn't realize, immediately, that it's a song.  A few seconds later, of course, I did.

Side note: Bon Jovi was one of my childhood crushes.  Yeah.  I said it.

Turns out, the chorus fits, though.  Yup, I do love this song.

She says we've got to hold on to what we've got 
Cause it doesn't make a difference 
If we make it or not 
We've got each other and that's a lot 
For love - well give it a shot 

We get along... better.

Last night... I think it was last night, it might have been this afternoon, but I'm pretty certain it was last night... It was!  It was after Jake was gone a few hours using wi-fi to job hunt...

Wow.  Talk about a lack of real introduction.  Hi. I'm blogging.   I decided to just jump right into babbling without a "typical" Nik-esque introduction.

Okay.  Last night, after Jake was job hunting, he came home, and said something to the effect of, "You know, one good thing about this unemployment problem is that we get along a lot better now."

I looked at him quizzically.  He said, "Don't you agree?"

I continued to look at him in a questioning manner. I really had no idea what he was talking about!  I mean, yeah, we have had our share of disagreements and not getting along in the past, but it's not like we've been at each other's throats, on the verge of divorce, or anything that I considered to be a big deal. I definitely didn't feel like we haven't been getting along.

So, I asked him to clarify.  I forget his exact words, but basically, he didn't quite mean getting along as in not fighting.  He meant, in a roundabout way, that he thinks we enjoy our time together as a family more now.

To that, I must say, I did agree.

When he began his unemployment right after Collin was born, it was rough.  I admit I have been stressed and worried about rent and bills every single day since then, but I do try not to let it eat me alive.  I try to focus more on the good things that are going on around us.  Yeah, I still cry and worry, but I am not letting it make me bitter.  And, he isn't either.  Somehow, we're still hopeful.  We're praying and holding on and getting through.

But, with all the focus I've been putting on freaking out (silently or not so silently at times), I haven't focused on the wonderful as much as I could and should have.  

Did I say that already? Probably?  I am not scrolling up to read.

We had to cancel our cell phone service a while back when they started to overcharge us due to a plan upgrade on Jake's that they were carrying and insanely trying to charge me for, which was unfounded and we couldn't argue out of it with them... so we switched to pay-per-month type phones (with the help of friends the first month).   Mine's off for now until we have funds to spare, but we're keeping his up and running for job purposes.  With that, we lost internet (because our phones were our internet), and without internet on our phones, games weren't as fun, we weren't surfing the net, YouTube-ing, what have you, nearly as much.    We were more involved in the world outside our phones.  Not that we were neglecting our children when we had our smartphones or anything like that, but they of course took more focus away from the kids.

Now, we don't have those distractions.  We have some still, a nook, limited internet, movies, books... but they're not as "easy" to access or get sucked into.  So, we spend more time playing with the boys, talking to each other, etc.   We're more present in our little family unit.

We listen better, I think, now too.  For example, for years I have HATED when there would be random bits of clothes left around.  We had this problem for nearly seven years.  And now, after we really talked about it and why it bugs me so much, it's very rare I find socks or shoes or whatever it may be lying around on the floor.

I won't bore you with many more examples.

Summary: Jake is right.  We do "get along better" now.   Granted, he will (hopefully REALLY soon) have a job again and be gone more, and we won't be together nearly as much, but I think this stretch of spending SO much time together has really done us good, and I think things will carry on in a positive manner.  I think this financial brokenness has built us up in our relationships.  A blessing in "disguise."

A Box of Love

November is the month of Thanksgiving, officially.  On Facebook, I'm participating, as are many others, in the 30 days of Thankfulness movement where you state something once a day, in a status, that you are thankful for.    I've so far, covered the basics, my sons, my husband, and my family and friends

But, today, I received a surprise.  Well, sort of. I was forewarned by my friend Ang that I would be getting a package in the mail.  I didn't think much of it, or tried not to, and just be surprised when it arrived.  Well, surprise number one was that it was a day late.  No big deal.

I feel like this post is going to be a bit... of  jumbled mess.  I'm going to back track first.

Way back when... years ago... I forget how many years ago, but a long time ago, in high school, I joined an online blogging site: Kiwibox.    There, I really entered into online journaling and in the process, made quite a few friends that I still am friends with this day.   So, over ten years ago, I met a great group of girls, now women.  After Kiwibox was starting to go... downhill, or really, we got old enough to think it was getting lame, we moved onto message board communities.  One of my friends and I decided to purchase a domain and run our own.  I forget, right offhand, how long we ran Bijouxmb, but it was quite a while.   Another message board, a sister site, almost, was born as well, Quarantine, run by a few of our friends.  For quite a long time, friendships formed, lives were shared, and we became close.   Now, I will admit, when we decided to let Bijouxmb die, and I was pregnant with Spencer, I stopped frequenting the boards.  Facebook was bigger and easier and it just sort of replaced it for me.  But, these women have since and always will had/have a place in my heart.

That said, confession time:  After Collin's birth, we realized that Jake's new job, the one he took at the beginning of the summer to better our financial future as well as provide more family time, wasn't going... as hoped.  It really wasn't working out for us.  We have an old suburban as our vehicle after our van went kaput and it would cost nearly as much to fix as it did to buy it.  The suburban is a gas hog, and was eating away his income, really, from this new job.   As of October, as sad as I feel admitting this, we've been really struggling, as Jake has been unemployed.  It has been quite a struggle.  We've been pretty stressed about finances and everything related to it.  We've dabbled between who should get the full time job.  Currently, we're trying to find Jake one.  When we only have one vehicle, it makes it a challenge.   And if we both work and were to work same shifts then we'd have to put the boys in daycare, which we just don't want.  We're praying about it, and hope others can do the same.

In the meantime, we're doing what we can to get by. We've disconnected our internet, since it barely worked anyway being a cheap wireless type thing.  We no longer have our smartphones and are doing a month-to-month pre-paid service on cheap flip phones.   We don't go out, we can't really.  We've been very blessed to have family and friends helping to look out for us, as embarrassed as I feel admitting that.  Our church, too.  I go through days where I am very upset and pessimistic about it all, an other days where I feel very hopeful.  Jake has had a few interviews, and the most recent ones went very well, he believes, so we're waiting to hear.  I know things will change, and I know we will be okay.  But, it's not easy to feel that way always.

I made the 'gutsy' move to tell a few friends about the situation in October.  I didn't want to, but I was tired of being silently stressed and not knowing where to turn to cry and express my fears.  I felt better knowing there were others out there praying and thinking of us and keeping my head above water emotionally.

Well, I didn't know that one of these friends was a blabbermouth.  Haha.  I mean this in a good way.   One of these friends, Ang, let my "secret" out to Q, the aforementioned message board (that I didn't own and run).  I really had no idea, until today.  

Today, this big, heavy box appeared on my doorstep.  "For the love of Q!"

Right away, I was... well, I was nervous to open it, honestly, because Ang wanted Jake to take a video... and I was afraid I wouldn't have a "proper" reaction to whatever was inside.

If the reaction she was looking for was to cry, well, then I had the proper one. Haha.

Inside was various items, mostly clothes for Spencer.  Warm clothes that are the right size for him this winter.  TONS of them.  There were pacifiers for Collin, and a chew toy for him too.  Haha, that makes him sound like a puppy.  There were a few gift cards.  One, I will donate for gas for Jake to go to job interviews.   One was for Starbucks, which gave me a "reason" to get out of the house, which I truthfully, really needed after a few emotional breakdowns this week, where I am now, blogging, using my cousin's laptop and the free wi-fi.  There were a few nail polishes for me, which made me very excited, because lately, I've been really into painting them.  It keeps me not only from chewing them due to stress and nerves, but also keeps them from breaking and hides my ugly nail that I crushed in a garage door this summer.  There was a candy bar and some gum.  There were a few notes.

The part that started my tears, of course, was the letter Ang included.  In summary, she wrote that there is a belief out there that way you do, or contribute in life, multiplies three-fold and comes back to you.   So, if you're nasty, three times worse might head your way.   In her opinion, and apparently that of a few of my other friends from afar, is that I've been "good."  I've been caring, despite circumstances right now, and I guess I have been that way for a while.  I guess, they think I have a big heart.

It's funny to me to think that I had organized care packages for others during hard times in their lives, all in the same fashion, via our message board communities.  Truthfully, I don't remember how many I orchestrated or helped orchestrate.  Two at least, maybe more.  It just... didn't stick with me, I guess.   I just did it and lived on without thinking twice.  I never in a million years expected something to come my way like this.  Not once.  I don't feel like I deserve it.   Of course, I am grateful beyond adequate verbal expression, thinking about how much my son benefits from their generosity and hearts of gold, as he grows out of the clothes we have for him.

I think what shocked me most about receiving it, though, is the fact that I haven't really been an active part of that message board in over two years.  I am  not a daily part of their lives anymore, and somehow, they still care.  I guess that shows something negative about me, really, because I know that even though I don't interact often, I still think of them often and wish them all well.  I guess, I really shouldn't have expected anything less from them.  I apologize that I somehow did.  I am truly, truly sorry if I doubt anyone.  Truly.

It's true, sometimes, I feel like I'm a good friend.  More often than not, I am more critical of myself, though.  I feel like I can't give enough or do enough for others, especially now.  I guess, really, it doesn't always matter if I can give monetarily or concrete items.   I know I pray, and I send regards, love, warm thoughts, when I can, regardless.  It took their box of love to remind me that those things count too.

My mind is scattered all over again, so I think I'll (finally, I suppose) stop this post.

Thank you, to anyone and everyone for any small or large thing you've done for me and my family, recently, or in the past.  I can assure you, it does not go unnoticed, and I hope that, as the belief I mentioned earlier goes, it comes back to you, threefold, or more.

Transitioning

The past few nights, Spencer has been fighting sleep pretty badly.  Even for Jake the other night, he cried and screamed a few times before finally giving in to sleep.  My sister, Samantha, and I discussed it briefly tonight, as I was mentioning how it stresses me out, though I try not to let it.

After talking for a few minutes, we both concluded that it's probably a reaction to all of the transitions that have been going on the past few months, as well as those that he may be able to "sense" that are coming up over the next few months.

Now, I know I've mentioned some of these transitions and changes in blogs prior (though I truthfully haven't been keeping up with blogging as much as I would normally do, partially because Spencer's taking more and more of my attention and focus, and also I've been spending time with people when they're around and available), but tonight, I was thinking about them all over again.

I realized I'm more stressed out about things than I let myself show.  I guess that's okay, because I'm probably more pleasant to be around that way, but internally, it might be wearing me down a bit.  So, here I am, blogging again, finally.

As I've said, Jake has started a new job with Washington National. He loves it, and he's doing well, which is a huge blessing, because it's meaning I'm still able to stay home with Spencer and grow baby Bo.  But, of course, the three nights away/four days away in a row (most weeks) takes a toll on all of us.  We're still adjusting, I think.  It's hard sometimes to be the soul parent in the house for that many days, only to have everything thrown for a loop when Jake finally comes home.  Schedules differ, though I try to keep things consistent, and Spencer doesn't understand really, though he seems to be doing pretty well being flexible.

Jake and I have been trying to adjust, still, too, the two of us, and our marriage, to the new stresses and changes of his job.  Sometimes, it seems a lot harder and more stressful than I imagined, but other times, it seems like nothing's changed really.  But, it's hard, and I've been really emotional about it.  And he's been really busy, so it's not always worked out the easiest to sit down and talk things through or have one-on-one time.

Then, we've been a one-vehicle family for about two months now while our other vehicle has issues.  We haven't put the money into fixing it yet, because we've been saving up to move.

Yup, we're moving.  More on that shortly.

Two weeks ago, or so, my sisters both came to stay.  Allison, who is 13 now, stayed for two full weeks, and then on Sunday, left with my dad and brothers who came to visit.  Spencer loved having her here, and was really actually distraught when they all left us on Sunday.  He threw quite a little tantrum as soon as they walked out the door, actually.  Fortunately for him (and for me) Samantha, who is 17, is still here and is staying the duration of the summer (give or take a few days or weeks).  She's been an amazing help, I must say, in not only caring for Spencer (especially during these 100°F or hotter days when I still try to get him outside for at least a short period here and there), but also keeping me, miss hormonal-eight-month-pregnant-stressed-out-mommy in a somewhat stable emotional state.  Gosh, I'm so lucky to have her.  Seriously.

Allison is coming back in a few weeks, with my dad, who is going to help us move.  Yes, back to moving.  When Spencer and I went to visit my family in my hometown in June, we all came home to new neighbors.  Now, friends of mine on Facebook especially can vouch that I complain about our neighbors pretty consistently, and have since we moved in, basically.  I think we've gone through five different neighbors or sets of neighbors since we moved in, and only one of them (borderline two) were what I call "good" neighbors, who didn't party, stomp, slam doors, yell, etc. at various hours of the day and night.  The new neighbors are just as loud, if not louder, than ones in the past, and when we got home and found them (heard them) living above us in the middle of the night, Jake declared we were going to move.

So, I spent the better part of two or three weeks trying to track down a rental place (because we're still not in a position to really buy a home) that would have enough space, in our current budget (with Jake still acclimating to his job), and allow our dog.

Sadly, as we drew closer to our "deadline" for securing a place so we could move within our time-frame, we realized we weren't going to be able to keep Wendell with us this time.

We're blessed again, in that my dad (and siblings who live with him) offered to keep Wendell for the duration of our lease, until we can/will move again and can have him back.  Now, I will admit, our dog has the knack for driving me completely up a wall, but I love him very much.   We've had him since we were first married (minus a month and a half), and as I joked with Jake "I've spend more time with him than my actual husband" (because Wendell is always home with me, or at least 99% of the time).   Not only do I love him, but Spencer does.  Wendell is his puppy, his dog, his pal.  He talks about him and gets excited and calls all dogs "Wen-doh!" now, even though he knows that they're dogs/puppies and can say and identify them as such.

To picture the next six to twelve months without Wendell by Spencer's side makes me cry.  I'm not even kidding.  I've cried many times since realizing we couldn't have him this next move.  But, knowing that my dad will have him, and we can still see Wendell, and can and will have him back again helps.  Thank goodness!

We finally did sign a lease for a 3 bedroom, single family home.  It's a pretty nice, older place. It's got its perks and it's downfalls, but it will work for us.  We were really feeling stressed and rushed to find a place and move before our next child is born... sometime in the next 5-9 weeks, most likely.  It's less than 7 weeks until my official due date!  We knew it'd be easier on us all to move and get settled into the "new" place before we brought home a new baby, so finding one, signing the lease, and getting over there has become a main focus of our days.

Well, now it's to the packing part.  We signed to move in on July 14.  We did this last Friday, giving us approximately two weeks to go through and pack all of our stuff again. Fortunately, we're moving about a mile (maybe two?) from where we live now, so it's not a huge move, but it's still stressful.  I find it especially stressful, because, much like last time we moved, I'm nearly full-term in a pregnancy, and I'm not allowed to do what I would normally do while moving, lifting and hauling stuff.  Yes, I can fill a box, but after that, chances are I'm not supposed to be carrying it around.  And this time, we have a "helpful" toddler around who is making it pretty challenging to get much of anything done on a daily basis.

Then, we'll be moved... and transitioning to a new home.  Do we transition Spencer to his toddler bed before we move?  Right when we move?  A while after?  Originally, my reasoning for wanting him in the toddler bed was that it was physically straining me to lean over his crib railing to pat him to sleep over and over every night.  But then, we did the sleep training thing and for the most part, he is fine on his own (except the past few aforementioned nights).  So, is the necessity still there? I don't know. I don't know what would be easier on him and easier on us.  I know when we stayed at my mom's for four nights, he was trying to sleep in a new room, in a different bed (his pack and play) and he did NOT do well.  So, part of me is afraid to switch him to a toddler bed at the same time that we move, and wait it out, or do it now.  I just don't know.

And then... we'll have our second child.   We won't have our dog.  My sister may or may not be here for a bit after the new baby is born, I don't know, she hasn't really decided (either way is fine, I don't want to pressure her).  Jake will be home for two weeks or so to help me and Spencer (and himself) adjust, but then he'll be gone.. and it will be me, and Spencer, and baby Bo.  Will Spencer like having Bo around?  Will he hate it?  Will he act out?  Will I be able to handle it?  Will I be able to find help if I can't?  Will I ever sleep again?  Will we... will I... be okay?!

There's just SO MUCH going on!

Gah!

Okay, that was long.  I commend you, and thank you graciously, if you managed to read the entire thing, and have any input, advice, commiseration, or... anything... to say afterward.

Bless you.

Some Worries

I am currently almost 29 weeks pregnant.  While I'm getting really excited (last night, I was sitting on the couch, late, all alone, giddy out of my mind almost thinking about how I can't wait to find out if Bo is a boy or a girl and what his/her name really is) about it all, suddenly, I'm also filled with worries again.

Now, I've been worried slightly about random little things the entire time.  Where, in this two bedroom place, will we keep Bo's clothing?  I decided in a small dresser in Jake's closet (Spencer and I already share his).

We'll let Bo sleep in a bassinette in our room until we find a new place.  So, I'm not worried about that as much.

You get the hint. Just little things, mostly dealing with space issues.  But, I've resigned to knowing we'll figure it out and we won't be here forever anyway.

But, last night, as I was getting really excited about the arrival, who will tell me "It's a boy/girl!" when Bo arrives (I hope Jake, actually gets to announce it), and what we will then call the baby (we do have names chosen already, and if you'd like to know them, feel free to ask), I was thinking about how we have been trying to get Spencer to say either of the names.

He almost always replies "no way."  I laugh, of course, because I think it's pretty funny.  I thought maybe that'd be a nice interesting nickname for his little brother/sister.

But then, I began thinking about Spencer, and how he will handle it all.

Tomorrow, he turns nineteen months old.

We haven't really done anything to prepare him for the arrival of the new baby.  I haven't really known how or what to do, so I have just done... nothing.  Other than try to get him to say the names we've chosen, I guess.  And occasionally tell him it hurts when he jumps, bounces off, leans into, sits on, etc... my belly.

I've never said why.  Never "that will hurt the baby."  I figured that wouldn't make any sense to him at all.  I figured telling him that I had a baby in my tummy wouldn't make any sense at all, let alone that when he hurts me it would (probably not, but you never know) hurt the baby.  He doesn't understand that it's uncomfortable or painful to me anyway (even if I pretend to cry, or groan, grunt, or actually cry), and it hasn't changed a thing, other than to keep me from sitting in the living room when he's really rambunctious.

He will be about 21.5 months old when his brother or sister arrives.  While I think he's a pretty smart little guy, I just... figured he wouldn't understand me trying to prepare him or explain to him anyway, so I haven't.

Now, clearly, I'm worried about it.

I'm worried about how he will react.  Not necessarily that he'll jump on the baby or hurt the baby in any way, but that he just won't know what to do anymore.  He's been home alone with me (the majority of the time) since February, after being in daycare the majority of his short life.  He plays at parks and at friend's houses, and he's definitely been around other babies at those places, as well as the church nursery, but I know that's not the same as having a new baby in his house ALL THE TIME.

That's very, very different.

I worry about whether he will feel neglected.  I don't believe I will neglect him.  I honestly, still, can't imagine loving the next child as much as I love him.

Yes, that sounds bad.  Hopefully you can understand what I mean, though, and not think that I won't love my next child as much, because I have been assured that I will, despite the fact that I can't imagine it.

Heck, I didn't imagine I would love Spencer as much as I do. I mean, I knew I would love him more than I could imagine, but to keep falling more deeply in love with him, after some really random things sometimes (like watching him stand completely still for 15 minutes or so as he watches hot air balloons launch), it overwhelms me.

I worry that he will feel like he's been replaced.  Or not good enough.  Will he question that later in life?

Neither Jake nor I feel that we are.  We never want him to think that.  In fact, we love him so much that is why we wanted another child.  For us AND for him.  To have a friend.  A companion, a live in playmate, a brother or sister to love, protect, and enjoy with us.

It makes sense to me.

But, I don't know how a toddler mind works.

I feel like I've digressed.

Basically, all I mean to say is that I'm a little worried about how Spencer will react to the big change coming up, and how, if there is any way, to really prepare him for that.

back behind the lens

A couple of weeks ago, much to my despair, our ol' faithful Canon 30D DSLR camera went beserk.  Possessed, if you will, by... old age, possibly.  We'd had it for almost six years.  While taking photos of Jake and Spencer blowing bubbles at the park, it put itself in "continuous shooting mode" and the shutter acquired a mind of it's own, taking "picture" after "picture," even with the lens off, the battery out, the card out, and off, from time to time.  (I say "picture" because it wasn't really recording any of the snaps it took.)  So strange.

I had resigned to the fact that I'd be a sad little cell-phone photographer indefinitely, hoping for at least a cheap point-and-shoot camera by the time baby Bo arrives in August.

Well, let me tell you what, my amazing, fantastic, super-sweet, thoughtful husband made my sadness disappear when last last week/early this week (I think on Saturday evening), he used his performance points from his (now former) job and ordered us a brand new Canon T2i DSLR camera and 32GB memory card to go with it.

This camera, though a "Rebel" model (so not "professional" like the D series is, sort of) is amazing. It's capable of an excessive 18 megapixel photo and video.  I tuned the settings down to a much more 'reasonable' medium-size image, which is still the same size as the large image from our old camera.  I haven't tried video yet.




Well, anyway, it arrived on Wednesday, surprise!  It was supposed to come on Thursday. The memory card didn't arrive until Thursday, but, fortunately, I found an old SDHC card we had (I have no idea what for), cleared that off, and was able to sneak in a photo or two on Wednesday night, just to see how it worked, before SJ went to bed.  The photo of his legs and diaper is the first one that I took and shared.  I was impressed.  The only light source was our not-so-fantastic floor lamp, and at a 3200  ISO speed, it wasn't overly grainy or full of noise.  Yay!

The next day, as I mentioned, the memory card arrived, and so I got to go on a little date with our new family friend.

It'd been a really long time since I went on a little photographic rendezvous to just take pictures for the fun of it.  I haven't been taking much more than photos of Spencer for about 18 months now, to be honest.  Not that I haven't wanted to, but because it's hard to do that with a newborn/infant/toddler around.  Especially if I want to haul around the backpack full of equipment as I usually do, and a tripod (which I never seem to remember the mount for anyway so it's always basically pointless, just like this time).  But, needing to get acquainted with the Rebel was a good reason to get out and about.  The only places I could think to go were my two favorite parks, of course.

The purpose in my little trip was mainly to learn the updated/new interface of the Canon DSLR, and I think I have it down pretty well, using manual settings and all.  I took my time figuring that out, and then attempted some HDR shots, without a functional tripod, as I mentioned.  Let me tell you what, that's hard!  To hold completely still for three separate frames is hard enough, but adding the breeze into nature shots... makes it a challenge.  I feel like I did pretty well for doing it for the first time since SJ was born though.  The flower above is one of the macro HDR shots I did.

When I came home, SJ was still napping (to my surprise, it'd been almost three hours), so I took out the macro lens adapter again, and I took a few snapshots of items around the house, to see how it did in midday lighting.  I was impressed again.  The "car lot" photo is one of the macro shots I did there.  I took photos of a garland and more toy cars, too, just for fun. Perhaps I'll someday use them to decorate in Spencer's room or something.  You just never know.

When he finally woke up, I attempted the macro lens on a wiggly little toddler in low-lighting, and it did quite well, I think.  The photo of Spencer'e eye here is one from that attempt.  My favorite part about this photo, to be quite honest, is not his adorable nature (though that's a huge plus), but the fact that you can very clearly see what the preview on his "Blue's Clues" movie was for by way of pupil reflection.  Candid awesomness!

I had a ton of fun getting out and about, and in and around the house, playing with the camera.  Ever since I can remember, I have loved to take photos.  I had my first 110 film camera in elementary school, and even then, I would try macro photos (though I had no idea what that was at the time, terminologically speaking), and would be very sad when they'd turn out blurry (because I had no idea you needed different lenses for that).   Then, I was given a Kodak Advantix for a birthday somewhere around 1998, and took a million photos of my youngest sister growing up.  During camp, one summer, I think 2005, I rewarded myself for hard work by buying a Canon SLR Film camera (I forget which kind), and really started to get into a photography hobby.  Then, came mine and my husband's Canon A20 point-and-shoot, which had a macro setting on it, and I explored further.  We acquired the Canon 30D in 2006, and I went crazy developing my "view" and sense of style, so to speak.  And since then, I've loved photography.

Sadly, of course, when SJ was born, it took a back-seat to being mommy, and my photos were basically all of my precious child.  While photography will still be a hobby that comes after being a mom and a wife, as I told Jake, I think I need(ed) to get back into it.  I need something besides being a SAHM and wife to add interest to my day.  I have many hobbies, mostly creative ones, but this one, for now, will be the best one for me to get back into whole heartedly, because it takes up much less space than say, book binding, in our small apartment with two small children (come August).  It'll be compatible with our lives for now.  Hopefully, someday, I can get into others again as well.

So, in summary, we got a new camera, because my husband is awesome and it made me very happy, relieved, and not sad about losing the old one.  I have learned to use it, pretty well for starters anyway. And, I'm diving back into my artistic photography hobby, not just photos of my family and friends, again.  It feels amazing.

If you'd like to check out my photography works (old and new, mostly older, but I still love them), feel free to "like" my new page on Facebook, specifically to showcase those works.

https://www.facebook.com/ExistingLight

Simple Pleasures

I get stressed. A. Lot. Lately. I hate to admit it, but it's true. Thankfully, it's not chronic-raise-your-blood-pressure-have-anxiety-eat-my-stress-away type stress, but it's stress, nonetheless, over random little things, or some bigger things.

I get stressed when the dog won't stop whining, because he wants to be outside, but then when I put him outside, he gets mad and barks and barks until he's inside, almost immediately after I turn my back.

I get stressed when Spencer freaks out, runs away from me, or fights me as I put a jacket on him.

I get stressed when I think about Jake being gone overnight.

I get stressed when the neighbor and her boyfriend can't seem to be quiet for more than 10 minutes at a time when it's dark outside and my toddler is sleeping... or at 4 in the morning when I'd like to be sleeping and she is still... loud.

I get stressed when Spencer won't eat, which is a new phase he's going through, I guess.

I get stressed thinking about travelling alone, running errands, feeding, bathing, diapering, and putting two children to sleep in a few months.

Among other things.

But, fortunately, I've been, as of late, finding stress relief in the little things. Simple pleasures that my son has shown me... taught me... or reminded me of.

• Bubbies! That's how Spencer says bubbles. He LOVES bubbles, which makes me love bubbles- even if I get a little lightheaded blowing them for him.
• Sharing a pop-tart in the morning, in our pajamas, on the couch, as we watch an episode of Blue's Clues.
• Anything that glows in the dark.
• Big bubbles, with bubble wands, in the backyard when it's windy.
• Writing with chalk... on his wall (where we now have a chalkboard decal).
• Bubbles in the bathtub, during bath time, when they stick to his wet body, and the tub, and float on top of the water.
• Goldfish crackers, fruit snacks, saltines, and yogurt! Yum!
• A lackadaisical walk around the neighborhood on a nice day (assuming he doesn't dart for the street, which he's getting better about).
• Watching fish swim!
• Sticking stickers on bare skin.
• Giggling with your friends again after you've been apart.
• Sitting by the window and watching the cars whiz by in the rain.
• A handful of M&Ms, Skittles, or Gummi Bears, every now and then.
• Coloring with crayons... outside the lines.
• Throwing balloons as high as you can and watching them fall down and hit you in the face.
• Cats and kittens!
• The satisfaction of making a basket playing ball, especially since my aim is not very great!
• Cuddling on the couch while watching the first... half... hour of a Disney movie.

Among other things. Those are some of the big, simple pleasures that are frequented in our daily lives.

Perhaps, though, my favorite is... when he's not even awake. Yes! I LOVE spending time with him, playing, exploring, and creating while he's awake. But, let's face it...

I love listening to his deep, slow breathing, watching his eyes flutter beneath their closed lids, as his face relaxes while he's curled up right next to me. Sometimes, I nap with him. Sometimes, I just lay there, with him lying on my arm, and watch him sleep for an hour. It's true.

It's been almost 2 months together.

Let's just be honest. I haven't blogged much lately. Not for lack of things to blog about, mind you, I've had a ton on my mind. In fact, as much as I would say I need to de-clutter the computer desk, I feel the need to de-clutter my mind, as well. Hopefully over the next few days (or weeks...) I can write it all out and find some more peace inside that chamber of thoughts.

Why haven't I blogged? A few reasons. The first is that I've been busy. I haven't been on a bunch of exciting or awesome vacations (though, I have visited my parents and siblings a few times), but rather, Spencer keeps me pretty occupied. And with the unseasonably nice weather we've been having, I've been trying to get us out and about (whether in the yard, or parks, or play dates), and not just hanging out in the living room all of the time.

And also.. I am EXHAUSTED. I remember being tired when I was pregnant with Spencer, and I had a job and all that, but hey, I feel like at least then, when I was super tired, I could rest. Now, my resting is dictated by a 17 month-old who just doesn't see the need to rest himself. Ah well.

We've been spending time with my cousin, who is also one of my best friends, during small chunks of the day a few days a week, as she comes over for lunch (she works blocks away).

Oh yeah, and I'll admit, I've been reading the Hunger Games triology. My husband purchased them on the nook, and we've both been reading them. I must say, while I'm not a fan of a lot of murder/death/gruesome reading and science-fiction stories... I'm somehow hooked anyway. I can that about the "Ender's" series, as well... books I was hooked on (of the sci-fi genre), that I never would have thought I'd become hooked on.

Anyway...

Although I was super comfortable in bed (for once) and nearly asleep, my neighbor and her boyfriend decided 9:45pm would be a good time to start an argument, so... I forced myself out of the bedroom and to the kitchen, where I now find myself.

Voila. A blog post.

It's not about anything weighty, or many of the subjects that bog my mind down and keep me awake, but rather, about the last two-ish months of being a stay-at-home-mom.

My husband asked recently, in summary, if I like being a SAHM and want to keep doing it.

Despite some reservations about the "gig," I told him I certainly would, as long as I am able to.

I love it. I do, but it's not always an easy "job" to love, I will admit.

Sometimes, I get really lonely feeling. Not for lack of having a lovable (and loving), chatty, busy-body with me in the house. But, as much as Spencer talks, and says actual English words now, and will hold a "conversation" with me, it's not the same as having adult interaction. Thank goodness for my cell phone (texts are my favorite), and Facebook. Shallow sounding, maybe, but it's true. I'm very grateful for those luxuries.

Fortunately, though, being a SAHM has given me time and opportunity to cultivate and strengthen friendships with a couple of my other stay-(or work-)at-home-moms that I know. It's been such a blessing to have time to spend with them. Whether it's via text message, email, Facebook message, like I said, which makes it very easy to keep in touch at all hours of the day, or play-dates with them and their sons, it's a treasure to Spencer and I both.

One thing that kind of caught me by surprise was the idea of "getting a lot done" around the house... not... so... much... happening. Not for lack of ambition (well, sometimes), but moreover, it seems that every time I start picking something up or organizing it, I have a little "helper," who I always seem to think is adequately distracted and won't notice what I'm doing. I'm generally wrong. Half of the time, it seems as soon as I start washing dishes, even though we won't have been playing or interacting, really, he will run to the kitchen and wedge himself between my legs and the cupboard and push me away from the sink. Or.. if I throw things away, he finds whatever he can find to throw away too.

And let me tell you, getting laundry done is not as easy as I had imagined. I never really saw the "need" to have main floor laundry until I started staying home with Spencer. Our laundry area is in the basement. Occasionally, say, if Elmo is "babysitting," I can sneak away to get it done. But, usually, I do NOT trust Spencer, nor Wendell, for that matter, to be alone, free, upstairs.

I don't really trust Spencer to be buckled into his high chair, and unsupervised, either. He's some sort of wizard, I swear.

I know, I should force myself to stay awake at every nap time and scrub the house and wash and dry and tend to the laundry, but as I said before, I am exhausted! I didn't realize that being pregnant with a toddler running around would be so tiring. I don't mean that to sound as a complaint, just a realization of my naivety on the matter.

I also didn't realize how hard it would be to sneak away to the bathroom to do my business... alone. I think he's got some sort of radar for that. I can't tell you how many times he's come barging in (because I don't always get the old, sticky, warped door latched all the way) with his shape sorter. Or if the door is shut completely, someone likes to pound and scream at me.

But, it's not all bad. Not even close, so don't let me fool you into thinking that.

I LOVE being home with Spencer. I loved working outside the home with him, too, of course, but there's something to be said about being able to wear your pajamas or comfortable pants (because I'm getting bulbous) all day if I want. Or to literally, not change him out of pajamas (or re-clothe him) on rainy days when I know we won't be leaving the house.

He has always been somewhat of a "night-owl," even as a newborn, and being that we don't have to be anywhere at a certain time, most days, it's okay with me that he stays up until nine (though I really prefer him to be asleep way before 10), and sleeps until eight... or nine.. or ten... thirty... in the morning. I don't mind not having to get up at 6:30. And, it affords me time, currently, to see my husband on the mornings he is home before work. I will admit, though, it's odd to not have to get up to wake him (either him, actually) in the morning.

I love that I can be attentive to Spencer, solely, as a child. To watch him intensely, as he develops skills, learns words, and uses his creative mind. He's just an unbelievable creation, to me. I tell Jake often that "I can't believe we made him." (Of course, thanks be to God, who had a very large hand in it.)

I love the freedom to visit friends, or family, during the week, if we so choose, and it works out for them. I love not having to cram errands into a half an hour chunk of time in the evening on the way home.

I love being able to relax and enjoy my role as a parent, as frustrating and exhausting as that can also be.

So, overall, I'd say it's been a pretty great two months. The first weeks, two or three, were a breeze. It felt like a vacation. The few weeks after, where the weather was kind of crummy and I was beside myself trying to figure out what to do, how to stay sane, how to continue interaction with others, and how to keep him entertained... were harder. But, I think after that, we've started to figure out our routine, a balance, and a way to make things work.

Of course.. soon enough, it's going to change again, and again, and probably again. But more on that another night. The neighbor is quiet again, and I'd like a snack before I fall asleep.