Vierzehn?!

 Dearest Spencer,

Fourteen.

Really?

Fourteen?

Can’t be.

Guess it is. 

Vierzehn. Wir werden damit weitermachen. Es klingt weniger verrückt, oder?

Ja.

As I write this you’re enjoying your “up later than your sister” bedtime privileges in the other room, doing teenager things.  When you first started taking your space from the rest of us, I was worried. Maybe even secretly offended, wondering what we were doing wrong.

Then it dawned on me- that’s a typical teenage thing.

Sure, you became a teenager last year.  But you’ve become more of a teenager over the course of the year, if that makes any sense at all. 

I know some people talk about how teenagers can be a bit… much.  It’s true, there are times when it feels like chaos and uncertainty and difficult and exhausting and confusing.  I realize more and more how outnumbered I am at home.  But… so far, it’s been mostly enjoyable, I think… I’m hoping you would agree, but feel free to share with me your brutal honesty on that one once you read this letter.

When it dawned on me that you’re doing typical teenage things now, I was a little scared.  It felt like brand new territory.  I’m not sure why, because clearly, I was a teenager once, and I hung out with other teenagers once upon a time, and half of them were boys.  Yet, I had myself convinced it was going to be slightly terrifying somehow.

Maybe it will be. I like to think it won’t.  I’m practical in the brain sometimes, so I won’t be surprised if it is.

I digress,

Tomorrow, you’re going to wake up and be vierzehn and time has still not slown down even a little bit. You’re one year closer to the day where you will decide to live away from me and your siblings and the whole world as we know it will change.  That realization is ever present in my mind, and it’s why I try tos spend as much time with you doing carefree or interesting things with you- forcing you to swim in a lake, taking you hiking, going to the park, and whatever other things I “forced” you to do (or sweet talked you into).

I loved every minute you were with me this year, even if the minute itself sucked for whatever reason, because it was one minute time couldn’t steal you away from me.

Someday I’m going to be old and you’ll have a life of your own and I’ll look back on the hard times and laugh and be grateful for them, even if we are having a cranky day and you don’t want me to make jokes. I do love that you get my jokes though and goodness knows I appreciate yours (when timed properly of course, because we are very similar like that).

Secret time, and don’t be embarrassed: You’re a really good kid. I see it. I know it. Others see it. Others know it. Others tell me.

Granted, we all have our issues, yours included (I would really like you to turn in more of your homework, after all, for example), but deep down, you’ve got an amazing, caring, compassionate heart, a brilliant mind, excellent wit, creative problem solving and reasoning, and some of the best hugs I’ve ever received.  It’s been so odd transitioning to you being the taller one in a hug and often being the one to initiate it, but I adore those moments more than you know. Wouldn’t want to make it awkward and be all mushy hearted.

This year has been a whirlwind with lots of good and some not so good, of course.  The surprise trip to Florida with your aunt, uncle, cousin, siblings, and I, was the things dreams were made of.  I savored all of the joy you emitted and the whimsy and wonder of all the new experiences we had together.  It’s a week I will remember and cherish my entire life. What a gift we were all given.

I know the end of the school year, the summer, and the beginning of this school year have been tainted with the familiar stench of fatherly abandonment, and I am so sorry that is a rerun you have to live through again.  I am proud of the young man you’re becoming through all of life’s challenges though.  Your ability to voice your thoughts and emotions continues to grow, your honesty is precious, and your resilience is something to treasure. There’s been some really terrible times in your life but still, you smile on, you laugh, and you love.  

I have loved watching your quiet faith blossom as well.  A few weekends ago, when you had a word for prayer time in church, and you bravely sent it in, and the congregation prayed it, and then we found out someone in the church that you don't personally know knew someone that fit that prayer request perfectly- I had chills all over my body but electric burning warmth in my spirit.  It was a beautiful moment, and I was so overjoyed to see you following the whispers you hear God sending your way. I pray your faith continues to grow and you continue to hear, see, and seek Jesus in countless ways.  

I’ve also loved watching my biggest kid love the smallest kids in our family.  Sometimes, I watch you interact with your younger cousins and I just want to literally, audibly, squeal in your face because it’s beautiful moments.  They look up to you and love you deeply.  They see the light in your spirit, too.   I love watching you interact with your uncles as you continue to get older and see the bonds you form with them, too.  Your aunts have always been close to your heart and strong, and it’s been such a delight to see your relationships with your uncles growing. 

Spencer, thank you for continuing to be playful and fun with me others around you, and not being too cool to give me hugs on the regular.  Thank you for helping people in need, even if no one else sees them, without being asked or expecting praise for doing so.  Thank you for being willing to learn new skills and help with different projects that you can do now that you’re older.  Thank you for teaching me new things. Thank you for laughing with me.  Thank you for singing car duets with me, which is hands-down one of my favorite parts of road trips.  Thank you for being you.

I pray that this year, your friendships and other peer relationships grow deeper roots. I pray you find more people to be in your tribe, with similar interests. I pray that you grow to love school and enjoy challenges and are able to let go of the burden of perfectionism.  You are enough as you are, you know.  I pray that you experience vierzehn more times joy than heartache.  I pray that you realize how brave, strong, and smart you are.  I pray that you (and I) savor the minutes, hours, days, weeks, and months this year and hold onto the goodness they bring as long as possible.

I love you.

Like…

A lot.

We’re in this together, forever.

And did I mention…

Ich liebe dich?

Immer.

Mom

A Healed Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving is a big deal to my heart, and has been for a long time.  It's a family, love, and gratitude focused holiday that I've always adored.

Thanksgiving this year was a bigger deal than I realized.

A year ago at Thanksgiving, I was still married to a man who had gone MIA.  I was brokenhearted, on the verge of feeling defeat, feeling a bit like a failure, feeling lonely, feeling anxious, and feeling a bit out of place in my own world.

The children and I were invited to Thanksgiving dinner with our friends and some of their family.  I accepted, knowing that my friend knew my heart and emotional state quite well, knowing I would feel safe, and that my children would have fun.  Still, I was nervous, not knowing how the others at dinner would approach the fact that he was not with us this time, as he had been months before when we were over for Easter.  I was cautiously optimistic that no one would ask a single question or even mention his absence in our lives.  The day, as far as I remember, was wonderful, filled with joy and laughter, friends and great food.

But I missed him.  I felt like our family was incomplete in some way.  I came home that evening, without my kids, I believe, and cried as I realized I went the day without him and made it through.  I longed for the vision of life that I had thought we were creating.

I spent a little bit of time over the past few weeks in prayer, trying to prepare myself emotionally and mentally for what this year might be like, whether the children and I were home alone celebrating in solitary fashion, or if we were fortunate enough to be surrounded by people we cherish somewhere.  I knew in my heart I would be emotionally and mentally okay if we were going to be celebrating alone, although I hoped we wouldn't be.  It wouldn't have been devastating though, like I may have felt it would have last year.

This year, he's still missing, and I am divorced.  This year, we were invited to the same family home for Thanksgiving dinner.  I've not been feeling well, so I was a bit quiet this year amidst all the hustle and bustle, but I felt at home anyway.  My friend still knows me well, and I know her family accepts me and my children for who we are, as we are, how we are, even without him.

When the children and I arrived home tonight, they were all fast asleep in the van, and I sat there for a bit, realizing that it was my first Thanksgiving as a divorced, single mother.

I didn't cry.  I didn't even emotionally flinch.

I then realized that I didn't miss him at all today.

This year, he was mentioned.  We discussed how the son who used to look so much like him looks less like him this year, and how my other son looks much more like him now.  I talked about how some of their mannerisms are very much like their dad.  I mused over how my daughter doesn't have close attachments to men, except my friend's husband, my dad, my brother-in-law, and she's somewhat close to a co-worker and her uncles.  But she's never felt a relationship with a dad that she would remember, and it affects her, somewhat, I think.

I was even asked by one of the family members if I would ever consider remarriage or having children in the future if "the right guy" came along.  I didn't freak out or withdraw really, although I was completely taken aback, I didn't act like it.

I didn't cry.

I didn't miss him.  Not like I used to.  I mostly miss him on behalf of my kids, and I feel sorry for him missing out on them.

But I didn't hinder me.

It didn't overwhelm me.

It didn't cause me anxiousness or nervousness.  I didn't even think about him before going.  I didn't sit and wonder if anyone would ask about him or mention him or worry about how I would react if it happened.

That's a lot of healed wounds.

Thank you, Jesus.

If it weren't for the Cleansing Stream retreat less than a month ago, I am sure I would be in a different emotional state tonight.

But I'm okay.

The kids and I are okay.

I don't long for him to love us.  I don't feel like we are missing out on his love.  I know we are, realistically, but I don't feel that soul-crushing overwhelming longing that was there a year ago.

Because we don't need his love.  It would be nice, but it's not a necessity.

We have God's love, first and foremost, and because of His love, we are loved deeply by many others.  It's obvious to me that we are loved more deeply by others in our lives than we could be by him at this point anyway.  My children are lacking their dad, but they're not lacking their Father's love; they're not lacking love at all.  Today, they were surrounded by love, like they are every day.

Easter, Thanksgiving, and Christmas, to me, are especially important emotional holidays.  They flood my heart with appreciation for God, family, friends, love, memories, laughter, and companionship.

For the last 15 years, up until this year, a huge portion of all of those holidays were invested in him- even the last two, when we was sort of here and then not here at all.

This year, that chain is broken.

This year, I see so much more clearly the love that we are showered with.  I saw it last year through clouded lenses.  This year, it's more real.

I can see so much more clearly this year that I am not alone.  I wondered a few days ago, while the enemy was after my mind, that I would be alone eternally, spending holidays without adult cameraderie, huddled up with my children, forgotten by the world, because I was just a pity case or that people were sick of the burden I am, wishing for interaction aside from only children (I know that sounds horrible, and I love my children dearly, so please don't assume I hate spending time with them).

But that's just crazy. I have family, and friends that are family, and friends beyond that who love us so much.

I am not alone.  We are not alone.  And God wouldn't allow us to go through this life alone anyway.  I get reminded of that on the regular.  Sometimes, I just get in my own way of seeing it.

Thank you to the many friends and family who have sent me messages of love, empowerment, gratitude, prayer, and blessings.  Your love is deeply felt and appreciated more than I find myself able to express at this time.

The other guys

Tonight, something inside of me shifted.

Over the last few days, I have been mourning the absence of my children's dad in their lives, as he has now chosen to ignore each of their birthdays and Christmas and Easter, some of the most significant dates and holidays in the year. I found myself thinking he should be here, or even send a card. I found myself wondering if the children even cross his mind.

As I was looking through some photos tonight, I felt tears trickle down my cheeks. I had to stop and process.

What I found surprised me. I wasn't sad. 

I was overwhelmed with gratitude.

While it is utterly heart breaking to know he walked away and my children are left to miss him and wonder where he is or if they will ever see him again, I realized how incredibly blessed we are that God has given them a group of "other guys" in their lives.

I know, as do my children, that these men will never be a replacement or substitute for their dad. But, they are so fortunate to have these men in their lives, helping to show them their value, that they are wonderful, important people who are worthy of being loved. These men have chosen to step into my childrens' lives, or chosen to remain in their lives despite the fact that they could have walked away alongside their father because they were first connected to me through their father. There are also equally important men that are my family, who choose to love them so deeply and dearly as well. All of these men invest their hearts into my children, creating lasting, positive memories, hugging and holding them, helping them feel safe and secure, and letting them see what good men are like and how good men treat people.

And even if some day, for some reason, these men are no longer in our lives, the fact that they are here right now, and have been during such tribulations, and during the childrens' early formative years means the impact is significant enough to last a lifetime.

I have known these men love my children, and they love me, and they want us to be happy. I have known it, and I have felt it to be true. 

But tonight, it shifted, and the impact is deeper and greater than I was able to comprehend or allow myself to feel before. Tonight, it overwhelmed me.

Thank you, other guys, for what you have given to me and my children by choosing to care so deeply. You know who you are, I hope.

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.

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

Pinch me. Am I dreaming?

For so long, I dreamt that one day I would be a mother. I always guarded my heart, though, afraid my body wouldn't cooperate and that dream would never come true.

I know this is a topic I've visited over and over again. It's like my blog becomes a revolving door of thought, at times, and I'm sure that it annoys some people.

But it's my blog.

I'm sharing this photo because I recently fell in love with it... again. I took it on March 7th (I believe) and thought it adorable, but up until last night, hadn't really sat and looked at it, letting his expression and the whimsical emotion melt my heart like it has. It is one of my favorite photos of him, to date.

Anyway... today, I was discussing with Jillian the possibility of more children in my future. While discussing that, we ventured into a discussion about insurance and fertility treatments. After SJ was born and I switched jobs, we also switched insurance, and up until today, there was some confusion as to what would be covered and when.

After a few phone calls, we established a couple of things. One- that any treatments at any point from here on should be covered by our insurance because, despite a letter we received in the mail, we have no pre-existing condition clause, and two- that I was "officially" diagnosed with PCOS (poly-cystic ovarian sydrome) back in October of 2009. While I had always assumed this to be the case, post-treatments, I did not know for sure, because no one came straight out and told me it was charted or diagnosed.

With this knowledge, I know that if and when Jake and I decide to actively pursue another addition to our family, medical interventions would be covered.

Not that I'm saying we're going to start trying to conceive again any time soon. It's just pure knowledge.

I digress.

After these discussions, I found myself holding Spencer on the couch as he slept, just staring at his perfect little features. Daily, I find myself pinpointing things that are "Jake" and those that are "Nicole," both in his features but also his personality. It's an on-going game I play. Truthfully, I hope one day it stops and I just realize that it's not his father nor I that I see, but rather, Spencer as a whole person. But for now, it's kind of fun.

As I sit and stare, playing my game, I find myself wanting a "reality check," because there's still a part of me that feels that I'm living in a dream. Realistically, I am, but it's one I'm sometimes finding myself afraid to "wake up from" and that it's not real. I let my sinner's heart get the best of me, thinking occasionally that there's no real way that God would have given me this miracle that I wanted, hoped for, and prayed about, for so long.

It's crazy to think that a little over a year ago, Spencer was nothing more than a longing. A year ago, he was inside of me. And today, he's beside me, babbling and smiling and loving on me like I'm the best thing in his world. It's just too good to be true! Yet, it is true.

I also find it mind-boggling to sit and think about his name. Spencer. We picked it. That's who he is. That's what he'll be called, forever (assuming he doesn't get all uppity and change it someday). We decided that. It's a powerful thing, a name.

I apologize if this is all haphazardly strewn together. Tonight, my thoughts (as usual) fly faster than my fingers can share them.

I'll give them the best of my life.

This afternoon, I received a text message from my husband, Jake, saying "Lead Me by Sanctus Real." I locked it in my phone, knowing I would come home from work later and look it up. I hadn't a clue what the song was, but I figured it must be a good one if he took the time to send the message.

He called this evening, before I had a chance to make my way for home, and asked me if I had received his message. I told him that I had. He went on to explain that one his way to one of the little towns he has his route in on Friday, he heard that song and it completely overwhelmed him. He said "It is how I feel sometimes."

Needless to say, as soon as I got home, I had to look it up.
Here are the lyrics.
Here is the music video.

I would summarize the song as a prayer to God, from a husband and a father, who feels like he has wasted time away from home, chasing things that didn't matter nearly as much as he being a role model and guidance for his family, and he asks God to help him to change that.

A few weeks ago at church, the pastor was talking about marriage, and how God calls men to be the spiritual leader for the family. He talked about how rare it is to see a man bring his family to church, as it is usually the wife bringing her family along. It's rare to see a man alone as his wife sits at home, or goes off with her friends, instead of going to church, but you see women alone and their husbands off playing golf, for example.

After church, I made a point to tell my husband how much I appreciate him, especially in regard to being a spiritual leader. Yes, I'm Christian, and I believe, and I pray, and I try to live my life the best I can to be a role for others, but for example, it was Jake's idea to find a church to go to together, and actually keep going to it. Yes, now we share in the leading and following, but really, Jake has always been a guide to me in my faith journey. Truly. He helped me years ago when I was starting to question what it was I really believed.

I also thanked him for being who he is to me. He isn't the kind of man who just shoves his family aside, or doesn't stop to pray, or who ignores things at home.

When I heard the song tonight, I broke down in tears. I can understand how Jake feels that way sometimes. We've been married for four years, and in those four years, it really does feel that we haven't really seen each other much, or spent a ton of time together. We have, but we haven't. He works so hard for our family, providing the main income and stability, 12-16 hours a day each day he works for Schwan's. He works so hard for us that he even works on his days off sometimes. I used to hound on him, truthfully, for "avoiding being at home" or "avoiding me" or "neglecting me." The argument was always the same, I felt I valued time and he valued money, and that was that. I realize, especially as of this past year and a half, that's not the case, and we haven't really had an issue with it.

I understand why he works so hard. I appreciate him for that. Yes, I hate that he's gone and I am guilty as charged for telling him how much I hate his job and how I hate that he's gone, and how I hate being lonely at home "all the time," but I know it's for a good reason, or one that is at least valid.

I've often told him I'd rather be dirt poor than be without him. It's true. But we've found a way to make it work that we don't have to make that the reality.

He really is an amazing man.

I know he loves me.

I just don't want him to miss out on us, on our home, on our lives, and on the love that I have to give, and that his son will have to give.

It amazes me how he can work such long days, almost every day of the week, and yet, he still comes home and the first thing he wants to do is wrap his arms around me and hug me as tight as he can... giving me what I need, and what he needs, despite physical and mental exhaustion. He even takes the dog out for a walk most nights, even in the cold, even at midnight, just so that I can rest. He takes out the trash when I ask him to, or brings the laundry basket up the stairs because I can't carry it and see where I'm going. He even makes a late-night snack if I need it. I find that he would give me anything and everything I need before he even sits down to take time for himself, most nights. It's an awe inspiring thing, his devotion and love for me. I hope the world knows that of him. I'm not sure that they do.

I feel like a cruddy wife sometimes, when I think about all those small, but intensely meaningful gestures he makes so that I feel and know I'm important to him. I sit and question if I do the same in return. I try, but I too feel like I fail.

In a way, I feel that song was written for me, too.

Resituated.

Well, it's official. We've moved. (If you want my new mailing address (and I would love to receive mail), send me a text or a facebook message and I'll get it to you ASAP.)

We moved 9.5ish (almost 10, but hey, I didn't count actual footage) away. We're living in the main floor level of a two-story duplex. It's small, but quaint. It's not as small as we thought it would be, seeing as how the furniture we really need and use all fits and there is still room to move around, but it's smaller than most places we've lived. It's a short-term (6 month, then month-to-month) lease, and it saves us one of my entire paychecks a month in rent, which will be wonderful once Spencer is born.

We were allowed to choose paint colors and paint it, so the living room is "fresh sawdust," our room "Aegean accent," and Spencer's room "blue sky." Okay, I don't actually think that's the name of his color. I should look at it again. I was wrong, it's "sky watch." Oh, and the bathroom went from a bizarre bumble-bee-esque yellow to "mountain peak." I'll let you decide what you think those colors are.

So, everything is here, except the piano (we still need to find a way to move it), and mostly unpacked, except the random stuff we're storing.

It doesn't quite feel like home yet, but I'm sure we'll get there. It will help once Jake and I have had time to spend together here. We've been so busy that it's been work, and really no leisure. Plus, we weren't here for half the weekend anyway.

I must tell you, though, Jake has been absolutely amazing. He works up to 14 hour days, usually 5 days a week, and somehow, he's found the super-human will-power, strength, and energy, to do almost all of the moving and work by himself. I mean, I helped pack somewhat and I did most of the painting, and a little unpacking so far, but he's taken the brunt of it all upon himself. Not to say we didn't have help. Our friends, Jillian, Robert, and Jake's brother, Jesse, helped too. Jillian helped pack up a bunch of stuff, haul, push furniture, organize the kitchen, keep me company, and let me play with her 4 month-old son, Grayson (I adore him). Robert, her husband, helped with some packing, and hauling the big furniture, along with Jake and Jesse.

But really, Jake... did so much. Not only did he deal with my stress, my freaking out, my random bursts of sobbing, my worry, and my inability to do things, but he packed, he cleaned, he hauled, he unpacked, he organized, he hauled some more, and then he still got up this morning to work another 12-14 hour day. And he will come home tonight and wrap his arms around me and tell me not to worry and that my most important job is just to keep our son safe.

I love that man.

Sorry if I've bored you.