Take these six strings and make them sing.

When I was younger, I wanted a guitar. Badly. I think I asked for one at least four Christmases in a row, before my parents were ultimately amazing and gave me one my junior year (I think) of high school.

Why did I want a guitar? Well, when I was growing up, for Labor Day weekend, every year, we went to my parents' friend's farm, for two or three days, and at night, there was a guy, or two, or three, depending on the night and the year, who had his acoustic guitar and people would gather by the bonfire as he played and others sang along. Every year, he'd play "American Pie" by Don McLean, and every year, there'd be mass confusion as to the verses. (I will admit, I know them all and in order...)

It inspired me. I wanted to be like Mike (that's the main guitarist for the campfires of 'yore.. haha).

So, my parents gave me a guitar, and I took it upon myself to learn to play.

An embarassing tidbit: When I first picked up the lesson book, it told me something to the effect of "place your finger on a string next to the fret, but not touching it." My critical reading skills at the time were... lacking, and I placed my finger between the strings, next to the fret, not touchign them, and would get pretty frustrated when I'd try to pluck a string to get a really "pingy" yet airy noise... but don't worry, I figured it out shortly after.

Over the course of a few months, I taught myself to play guitar.

Fast forward. I met Jake. And he played guitar, too. *swoon*

Playing guitar, whether it'd be me alone, Jake alone and for me, or the two of us together, has been a very substantial part of our relationship (in fact, our first "official" date was at Falls Park with both of our guitars. We took pictures (and I can't find one anywhere to show you, go figure, but they do exist))...

...up until a year or two ago, when I nearly stopped playing altogether while I was pregnant with Spencer.

Yeah. I can't claim that I'm proud of that.

Last night (Sunday), Jake asked me if I would play guitar with him. I said yes, half heartedly, as I have been any time I agree to do so lately (which isn't often). Why halfheartedly? I wish I could pinpoint that and give a precise answer, but, I can't. I think it has something to do with the fact that I can't get my fingers to properly form a bar chord, or an F, or any variation of an F, or a B...

And, honestly, sometimes I get frustrated playing guitar with Jake, because, in my opinion, he is exponentially better at it than I am. Kind of how he would feel about having a mascara application party with me (not that we have ever done that, nor do I believe it would interest him at all...)- a bit inferior, possibly.

Whatever the underlying reason, I haven't been all that "into" playing guitar for quite some time.

But, because I wanted to spend quality time with Jake, and do something he would enjoy, I agreed.

The first half of our playing together was Jake trying to teach me songs that he knew, while I tried to figure out what chords he was playing by watching him, or he occasionally called them out to me. It was alright, but it wasn't the best time I'd ever had. Though, I will admit, any time Jake plays guitar, or I play guitar (I have a few times since SJ was born), it is the CUTEST and most wonderful thing to see Spencer dancing to the music, or "singing" as we play, or even... *gulp*... trying to HELP us play our guitars (and mind you, Spencer has FOUR of his own guitars). I get goosebumps and practically cry every single time.

While Jake was giving Spencer a bath, I pulled up to the computer, opened the "guitar chords" bookmark folder I had compiled before getting pregnant, and opened a few windows to display songs I used to be able to play from memory and have long since forgotten. Truth be told, if you were to ask me which songs I could play from memory now, I think it'd be... "Time of your Life" by Green Day, and "Wonderwall" by Oasis. Yeah, it's that bad.

But, wouldn't you know it, as soon as I saw the chords for "2a.m. (Breathe)" by Anna Nalick, I picked up right where I left off so many months ago, and belted the lyrics out, playing at my original pace, with my original strumming, like I hadn't missed a day playing that song.

Then, I played and belted out a little "One Sweet Love" by Sara Bareilles. Yup, that one was "good as ever," as well. Huh.

I played a few more while waiting for Jake, including learning a new one "Paperweight," by Schuyler Fisk and Joshua Radin, and after Jake put Spencer to bed, he joined me in front of the computer, and we took turns pulling out a song from the folder, playing it together, and singing. Just like old times.

And it was WONDERFUL. I kick myself for taking such a long break in playing with my husband, and for being such a poo about it when I would play.

Truly, the highlight of our "open mic night" in the kitchen, however (and I think he would probably agree) was when we pulled up "Poison and Wine" by the Civil Wars. I don't remember that we'd ever played it together. I know I book marked it when I first heard the song hoping to learn to play it and sing it with Jake (it's a beautiful duet), but I don't know for certain that we ever had before.

But, when Jake started strumming the rhythm, and I joined, and he sang, and I followed... and then we sang the harmony together... it was FANTASTIC. I am not saying we were the best performance anyone could have heard, and we might not have been even "good" in some opinions, but it felt PERFECT. It sounded symphonic, even without other instruments. I felt like we had stopped time and were holding onto an everlasting moment.

I enjoyed it so much, I asked Jake to do it again.

We played a few more songs, until my fingers felt like they might bleed, and my arm was only playing my "wussy version" of a Bm every time it came up in "When You Come Back Down" by Nickel Creek (Jake played everything, and I only strummed the Bm) and I laughed myself to silly tears.

I woke up this morning, though, still giddy about our concert together last night.

I hope I can hold onto that feeling, and get back in the groove of playing again. I wouldn't want to lose that something special that Jake and I have, after all.

Truth be told, an acoustic version of most any song nearly always ends up being my preferred style. Random tidbit for you.

And, here's a few more "guitar-related" significances from my friendship/courtship/marriage with Jake.
- the first time he ever came to my house, he played guitar, and I have pictures

- he learned to play my favorite song "Name" by the Goo Goo Dolls, and performed it when he randomly surprised me at my parents house

- he learned to play my other favorite song "Crash Into Me" and debuted that at the aforementioned Labor Day gathering in 2003 (I think) in front of a ton of people

- he once came to my parents house and played guitar under my window to serenade me (but I wasn't in my room and had actually run up to the post office and then stayed downstairs until I thought I left my radio on and realized he was in my backyard...)

- he and his best friend broke my first guitar wrestling, and so they chipped in and replaced it and gave it to me for a 4th of July present in... 2002 or 2003. I have it on video.

- our first "official" date

- I gave him a 12-string guitar for his 21st birthday

- we used to play guitar and sing in the racquetball courts at SMSU late at night

- he wrote me a song and performed it for me at open mic night on my 21st birthday

- I wrote him a song, and my friend got it on a webcam video

- and others... but my fingers are cramping.

(PS: I took the photos I included in this entry, so please, don't be taking them.)

I'm an emotional lady.

I'm an emotional lady. I think I'm always emotional, to be honest, but sometimes, my emotions are displayed more strongly. I don't say emotional meaning "sad" either. I just... experience emotions very vividly, intensely, however you would prefer to describe it. It's not in a manic-depressive (no offense to any readers) way, either. More that I just embrace whatever emotions I have, usually pretty straight on, and I am not afraid to show them.

That said, I've had an emotional evening.

Yesterday, I decided on my personal memorial for Sprout. I will share more about it at a later date. I have been thinking about it fairly continuously since the idea came to mind. I reworked the idea a time or two since then, but I think I've decided fully.

Thinking about the memorial so often has, of course, caused me to think about Sprout. Sometimes, it seems like a dream, the month and a half of knowing I was pregnant, and then the loss over a month ago already. I find myself, at times, wondering if it really happened or if I'm in some sort of psychologically twisted movie. It's hard to realize I'd be in my second trimester. I could possibly be feeling Sprout move.

Spencer turns 1 in one week, on 11/1/11. How cool a date is that? His golden birthday is nothing but ones.

It's bittersweet, of course. I mean, I am overjoyed that I have had a son for almost a year already! That's so crazy. Another surreal sort of phenomena, I'd say. I have been quite nostalgic the past few days, thinking back to a year ago, when I was pregnant, and called my dad for his birthday (which was two days ago) and his first question was whether I was in labor or not. (Of course, reflecting back to a year ago, being pregnant, does nothing for helping me feel better about not being pregnant still this year when I just was...) I remember sitting at home, having contractions for weeks, not too painful, but wondering when they'd get "bad."

I remember doing a CPR glass at 39 weeks pregnant. That wasn't... fun, by any standard. But, I passed, and did it all on the floor with everyone else in the class. What a rockstar. Haha.

I remember taking Wendell for a walk about this time last year, and he pulled me over a step on the sidewalk I didn't see and I biffed it and told Jake, and he freaked out.

I remember calling Jake from Wal-Mart while I was shopping with Tarah, and I said something like, "I've got sort of a crisis, call me back." He thought, of course, I was having Spencer. Really, I just needed to know which deodorant he'd prefer because the scent he always used for his favorite deodorant was nowhere to be found. Boy, did I get a lecture on using the words "crisis" or "emergency" loosely.

I watch him moving across the room from me at random parts of the day, just in awe of the fact that he is standing. That he's turning from an object he's standing by and taking steps away from it. That he signs for "more" and "milk." That he knows the sign for "bath" and gets super excited. That he says my first name!

He's definitely a dream come true. He is DEFINITELY a miracle.

And then, of course, I go back to knowing that we aren't having a second baby any time "real soon." I haven't even fully finished my first month of birth control plus Metformin. UGH. I feel a small stab in my heart every night when I take those loathed pills. Yes, I know they're supposed to help. It doesn't help me feel better about it sometimes, though it should. It depends on the day, I guess.

I've been struggling with my self-esteem and my hatred toward the PCOS diagnosis I have been given. PCOS is evil. Really. It causes acne, obesity, irregular cycles and infertility, excessive hair growth. Not one of those things is something anyone aspires to having. And, like many with the condition, I have all of those that I just mentioned. And, sadly, sometimes they just continue to get worse with age and time. Not always. I pray mine don't.

And it's even more frustrating because it feels like, especially with the acne and the hair issues, it's going to be a life-long battle. The solutions that they give for those, medically anyway, you can't really DO when you want to have children. You can't take the inhibitor medication for hair growth if you're wanting to have children, not until you're done, I've read, anyway. And with acne, they say birth control can help, but hey, that's not helping with building a family, either. So, I feel like I have to give up on more long-term solutions to those issues and wanting to feel like I look beautiful or even slightly appealing, because I want more children.

So, I deal with temporary fixes and the nuisances those bring.

But, I want children. Jake and I both want children. We have a child, but we hope to bring a sibling for Spencer into our lives, sometime in the next year, if possible.

And, as much as Jake tells me not to worry and stress about it, I am pretty nervous and worried about his upcoming appointment with the orthopedic surgeon to discuss the results of his shoulder and elbow MRI that he had done on Monday following a work-related injury. He doesn't think he'll need surgery. But, if he does, it could be a while before he can work, or work "fully," or whatever.. and, let's face it, the childcare business isn't a money maker.

Well, there you have it. My griping, whining, and emotions for the night. Tomorrow, I'll wake up, and probably feel a bit better about it all. But tonight, I'm kind of in a funk.

In other news, I am really looking forward to the next week or so. On Sunday evening, we're getting to see Jesse (Jake's twin) and Samantha (Jesse's girlfriend, my "sister" and a best friend) for the first time since August! Yeah! They're coming "home" from Alaska for a little over a week. I can't wait! I miss them so very much.

Monday, Spencer's going trick-or-treating. His first Halloween!

Tuesday, it's Spencer's FIRST BIRTHDAY!

Wednesday, we're celebrating Spencer's birthday still/again, and Samantha and I have a date planned.

Thursday... Friday... who knows.

Saturday, I get to see Rena, and Samantha! I think. Right? And Shari and Alyssa. And maybe my family! Who knows! Lots of preparation for Spencer's birthday celebration.

And then that Sunday... Spencer's birthday celebration! Woohoo! There will be quite a few friends and family there. I am very excited to celebrate the joy that Spencer's brought to our lives with them!

There, see, I ended with lots of joy and happiness. Hopefully, that helps offset the stuff at the beginning, especially for those readers who like a "happy ending."

Godspeed.

The Girl Who Never Entered a Wellness Center...

Up until a week ago last Saturday, I could have used "girl who had never entered a wellness center" as an identifying phrase.

After talking with Jillian about PCOS and the struggles it produces in our bodies, including being overweight, I was inspired to check out a local wellness center. I had seriously never done so, because I'd always seen them as scary, intimidating, and a potentially embarrassing rendezvous.

However, after talking with Jake about my initial interest in checking one out, and finding he was pretty excited about it, the idea never left my head.

We hadn't had much time as a family to go check it out, until almost two weeks ago. But, as soon as we did, I was latched on the idea of joining. We got a free week pass to try it out. The next day, Sunday, we took Spencer swimming. Shortly after, the center closed, so we didn't have time to do much else.

The following Wednesday, we again took Spencer swimming for almost an hour. That was followed by nearly two full hours of working out!

I have to tell you, I'm still proud of myself. On my very first visit, I did 27 minutes on the elliptical machine. I lifted some weights/used the weight machines (pardon me for not knowing what they're called), and realized I'm stronger than I thought I was! I can probably thank Spencer for that, I guess. Then we rode bikes for a bit (I did a bit over a mile while Jake tinkered on one to get it set right and then he quit and waited for me) and walked a mile on the track.

We haven't had the time to go back yet as a family because the next week was oddly busy and had a strange schedule with Easter holidays and everything thrown in, but I'm hoping we buy that membership this week and then make a regular event out of going. Generally, we're thinking we'll take SJ swimming one day each weekend, and again on Wednesdays, and work out together those days as well. Then, I just have to partition some time to go alone during the week.

So, while I can't report that I'm a sudden gym/fitness guru, I can proudly state that I HAVE in fact gone to a wellness center to work out, it didn't "kill" me, I was not at all embarassed, or self-conscious, and I did actually enjoy it.

Woah, right?

Never saw it coming!

When did I stop?

When I was in high school, my main goal in life was, "to make a difference." That's what I'd tell people. That idea carried on through high school, to college, and after college... for a while.

Recently, I feel like I've lost that. Not that I don't want to make a difference, because I do, definitely. But, I've stopped vocalizing it. I've stopped using it as a driving force.

I'm conflicted about that.

I didn't necessarily think I was doing big things when I was working on this goal. In high school, it was writing poetry, mainly, and sharing it with the world. I know it sounds totally strange, but man, I was popular when it came to the online poetry community. I was on boards and people were reading my work left and right, praising me, and telling me how much they could relate. I received so many thanks and comments on my webpage (now deceased, due to the collapse or whatever of geocities) that I was completely astonished with myself. I didn't think I was really good at writing, I just wrote because it's what I could do. It was an outlet. It was a release and hey, an avenue for my ever burning creative fire. I made friendships with my poetry, online, and offline too. Even after my mother read my poetry about my inner pain and got mad at me for writing it, I continued, because it seemed to mean something, not only to me, but to the world. I felt powerful.

After high school, I joined outreach groups and other activities in college. At Augustana, I did youth overnight lock-ins with the IXOYE outreach ministry. It was wonderful! We were sharing the love of the Lord with so many children. It inspired me to work at Shetek Lutheran Ministries the summer of 2003 as a camp counselor. I loved the work we were doing. I returned the next summer as a daycamp director, and took other staff along with me as we shared the Lord with children all across southwestern Minnesota and southeastern South Dakota. I remember one camp where we re-wrote the Lord's prayer with the children, in their words. I still have my camp binders. I sang the love of the Lord with my guitar, for me, for staff, for children, for families. I felt I was really making a difference there, too.

I was an RA in college at Southwest MN State University two years later, and I was able to counsel and support freshmen students in our house as we went through some crazy situations. I allowed a random guy, who was drunk and drugged up, to grope and harass me for the protection of the students, and then work through it with them. I did everything I could for that house of students, everything they would let me. We formed some really great relationships, and it was really hard to say goodbye and get married that summer knowing I could never be an RA again.

During my junior and senior year, I worked at a Crisis Center in Marshall, doing supervised visitations. It was a relatively simple job most times, though it was always hard to pry children from their parents. But, I felt like I was making a difference, I was allowing these families to have time together that they wouldn't have otherwise.

My senior year of college, I took an internship at Western Community Action, and made it my mission to help combat the terror of poverty in our area. I loved it. I worked at the food shelf, basically running it, helping people have food. I helped run a free tax clinic where those who couldn't afford others to do their taxes could come and we would help. It was wonderful. I fell so in love with it that I applied to work there after graduation, and was hired. I then took on the food shelf, and started a group for girls, where they empowered themselves and learned leadership skills and other useful things. I ran a Big Buddies program in Redwood county (mentoring), and then my final project was to help form the Circles of Support program, where the community would come together on a regular basis, to relate, learn, lead by example, fight poverty, and form relationships, across all lines that are considered barriers (class, race, age, gender, etc.) I really felt I was doing something big.

During this time, I also volunteered at my other employment, the crisis center, as a Crisis Line advocate. The crisis line was a wonderful way to make a difference, with late night calls reporting rape, and I'd drive to hospitals to be an advocate for women who were going through perhaps the worst situation in their lives. I was there for suicidal callers. I was there for so much. They didn't always know me, but I was there. I was making a difference.

When I resigned from my WCA job and started as a preschool teacher, I felt important then too, not as important, but important. I mean really, I was educating young minds. Same goes for when I moved to Sioux Falls and started working in an infant room. But the impact didn't feel the same. I'm sure it's meaningful, but it just wasn't the same.

I sit here, raising my son, and am very, very proud of it. But at the same time, I don't feel like I'm making a difference like I hoped for, dreamed of, and wanted. I don't know why I feel that way. What did I actually mean when I told myself that? Was it to make a difference for countless people, or could it mean to make a difference in the life of one little boy sleeping on my bed? I don't know. I don't think there are clearly defined boundaries for my dream.

I think I just need to work on seeing the way things really are, and that I am still making a difference, just in a different way than I expected.

And who's to say I can't do something big, yet?

A Hairy Deal.

Call it whining, or call it just being truthful, the bulk of this entry will probably come off in a negative way, even though I don't actually intend for it to.

I've always, okay, I'm already being dramatic...

I've been totally self-conscious since puberty. Yeah, I know, most teenagers are, and most probably hold onto it somewhat into adulthood. I know I'm not alone in that.

I have always been terrified that I was "part male." Why? Because I have really hairy arms (no, I don't sport other "junk" down below). I have also started putting on weight since puberty, and hated that too, and was always terrified that everyone was staring at me and judging me for being a freak. I still do, truthfully.

I learned last year that these traits that I loathe can most likely be attributed to Poly-Cystic Ovarian Sydrome, which I was told I had. While it brought some comfort, it did not bring any solace to my fear of people staring, judging, and my hatred to see these things about myself.

I finally started "showing" now, while pregnant, and feel like people aren't just looking at me as if I'm extra fat. So, that takes that away for a while, and you can bet, when I'm done being pregnant, I'm going to be working at losing weight again (which I was successfully doing up until pregnancy).

But I'm still always afraid that I'm the freak with the gorilla arms. My husband will attest to this. And now with celebrities like the "pregnant male" I'm just even more self-conscious that people are judging and snickering about it as I sport a baby belly and hairy arms.

I hate summer a little bit for this reason, every year. This year will probably be no different.


I'm in a wedding next Friday, for my best friend, as her Maid of Honor. It's funny, I know I'll look pretty all dolled up in my beautiul dress, with pretty hair. And I know her family has known me since 1991 and they all accept me and love me (or at least I like to think so) for who I am, but there are going to be people there who have never met me, and I just squirm in my shoes thinking about the stares I might get.

But, as always, I sport my proud, happy face and try to pretend I'm not self-conscious in the least.


Anyway, I don't want to end this in a negative fashion, because that's just lame.

So... a Maid of Honor speech! Ack! I haven't written one. I doubt I will. I'll probably just babble on and on and on and on and on and on.... or say something about how Michelle and I have known each other since the beginning of time, more or less, and I love her, and I'm happy for them, and you know, the usual. Maybe I'll shoot for a laugh or two. We'll see.

And I need to break in my shoes!

I'm so excited for this wedding. I haven't been excited for a wedding this much since my own (which of course, was more exciting to me, but that's because it was mine, and I know D&M don't judge me for that)! It's going to be absolutely beautiful, and I do love that it's on a Friday.

Jake will be in the congregation, but hopefully he'll get a good picture or two that I can show ya'll after it's done with.


Oh yeah, and I broke my laptop screen, with my Hercules fingers. But really, I did, with my pointer and my thumb. So I am using my new roommate's computer (Tarah, my cousin, is moving into the basement) for now, and won't be on as much as usual.

Peace.