Now 5, Little Big Ollie Bear

Dearest Ollie Bear,

Today, I think I called you by my little nickname more than the rest of the week combined.  I realized, as we spent so much of the day together, that you're so little big now, and someday soon, there's a chance you'll ask me to stop calling you that for good.  You already tell me too frequently that 'I'm COLLIN' when I address you as my little cub.

But for now, today, and hopefully a few more tomorrows, you're my little Ollie Bear, my teddy bear, my cuddly bear, my grizzly bear.

Collin, I can hardly believe that it's your last day being four.  I don't want it to be true.  I have tried to deny it.    I put you to bed tonight and I said "what is going on tomorrow, again? I forgot." You laughed SO hard and said "I'm FIVE BECAUSE ITS MY BIRTHDAY!"  I hugged you as tight as I possibly could and kissed you before covering you up, declaring our love, and asking you to please stay in your room and go to sleep so I could wrap your presents.  

Today, we were blessed with the surprise pre-birthday gift of time together.  We spent a portion of it with your brother and sister, who are your closest friends and also occasional foes, investing our time making memories at a park, and then adventuring with sea creatures and butterflies.  Your laughter echoed all around us, as you delighted in wonder and also in knowledge about the creatures around us.

Then, we said 'see you later' to them, and we were given time for just us.  It was of immeasurable value, as I listened to you talk about the things you love.  I took you for a special lunch, where you asked to take a fun picture with me.  You talked non-stop with one of the employees there, who you also asked to have cut your hot dog, to which she gladly obliged.  You love people, and it shows.  You are a true extrovert in that way.

Mister Man, I know we definitely have our differences  There are countless ways that it seems we are exact opposites, which makes for some interesting power and stubborn struggles on a regular basis.  You're loud, I'm quiet.  You're a firecracker, I'm more of a Scentsy warmer.  You're demanding, I'm requesting.  You love dirt, I prefer dirtless.  You hate pants, I love pants.

But we are also very similar.  You love with your entire heart, for better or worse, and you have a huge heart in your tiny body.  You care when others are sad and hurting, and you take great care in protecting your treasures.  You love to snuggle, to read, to wrap yourself up in a cozy blanket, to sit and watch the clouds go by, to oogle over babies, and to just sit and be still (sometimes).  You have great passion.  We share that, for sure.

You're starting to really come into your own now, little big boy.  It's exciting to me to watch your interests unfold.  You play sometimes that you don't really "know" stuff, but the moment my head is turned, you blow me away and share your knowledge when you think I'm not paying attention.  You're incredibly intelligent, and it makes me proud.  I'm amazed with the way your mind works.  You've even begun to help me with problem solving of my own from time to time!  Just the other week, I was struggling to figure out how to do a project to make some paint stick on a shiny surface, and you simply said "why don't you paint the back."  It made perfect sense.  Thanks for your genius, Ollie.

This year has been filled with joy and reunification, but also repeated loss, and I know that makes it a little bit of a tarnished birthday for you.  You've been looking for one who isn't around again, and I know that puts some cracks in your little big heart.  But buddy, I promise you, even though one isn't there, you're completely surrounded and enveloped by the love of countless others who are, and I know for a fact that God is going to heal those cracks right up for you in time.

As much as I wish you weren't already turning five, and away from your baby and toddler years toward the big, bright world of elementary school, I am thrilled to see what the fifth year has in store for you.  You're going to blossom so much more, I can feel it in my heart.  It's going to be an overwhelming and wonderful world for us all, and I'm so thankful that I am such an integral part of yours.

Ollie Bear, thank you so much for being you.  Thank you for the struggles you provide that make me a better mommy, and thank you for the calm and love you give me all the same.  Thank you for loving me no matter what we go through, and for being excited to see me at the end of every day.  Thank you for never withholding a hug, even if you're mad.  Thank you for showing me love I didn't know I had.  Thank you, for being mine.

I pray that we both have patience, grace, and mercy as this next year continues. I know that there's going to be big bumps in our road, heated moments, loud voices, and struggles all over.  But, there's going to be thousands of hugs, millions of giggles, tons of kisses, and infinite love.  And that's just from me... it doesn't include your brother, your sister, your family, your friends... your village.

I love you, Ollie Bear.

Happy Birthday, when you wake.
Momma Bear.

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.

He's Happy After All

I have a confession.

Over the last year, with my husband's absense, my mind has been nearly constantly focused on the fear that his abandonment would "break" my kids and I.

I have always felt that children thrive the best with both parents in their lives.  For roughly 10 months, my children, though parents were separated, still had both parents in their lives.  Looking back at things, I know that their dad was around in person, but he wasn't really there, and he wasn't consistent and often let them down.  Actually, looking at the past few years, I see that he was not consistent even when we were all home as a family under one roof.

This past week, I was speaking with two very dear friends who stopped by to visit the kids and I.  Both of my friends at one point had made a comment about how happy my oldest, Spencer, who is nearly five, is nowadays.

I was kind of baffled by it, knowing that he struggles with daddy abandonment issues, and often I find him missing his dad.  But I listened to them talk about how he is happier, filled with smiles and laughter, and loves to play with his friends Spencer has become.  I reflected after they left about the comments of a few other good friends have made about Spencer and how he's grown so much recently, and really developed his personality, which is warm, loving, and compassionate.

Before I went to bed Sunday night, I laid awake, pondering these comments.  Eventually, I had to ask my two friends, "So, you think Spencer really is happy now?"  Well, maybe not those exact words, but the sentiment.

I have been told these sorts of things for a few weeks at least, if not a couple months, but for some reason, it's taken me this long to really hear them.  Maybe it's because the weekend before last was really tough on him with expressing the loss of his dad.  Maybe it's because I've been so focused on issues in my own mind.  Either way, I finally, truly heard the words and embraced them.

As my friend explained, Spencer, even a year ago, when things really started to fall apart in our world, was sullen when visitors would come over.  Yes, he liked to see them, but he didn't pay them much attention.  In fact, he would often withdraw when he realized that it was NOT his dad.  I didn't necessarily see it myself, because I was always with him, and always with all three of them, Norah just a tiny infant at the time yet.  My friend pointed out that he was always waiting for his dad to come home.  His dad lived with us.  It was OUR home.  He was supposed to be there.  But for months he just would not come home consistently.  Or he would be there for an hour or so here and there throughout the week, always with excuses of late hours or needing to help at the shop (which I now know is a lie, as he admitted this to me himself last spring).  But daily, my son was disappointed that his dad would not show up consistently.

I should have seen this.  I tried to incredibly hard to get him to come home.  "Just come for supper, and see the kids for a bit, please?" "Can you come help with bath?"  "The boys miss you."  So forth aned so on.  Daily.  I tried to bring him for the kids.  Sometimes he said he would be right there and hours later, was ignoring my phone calls, then providing stupid excuses to me why he couldn't come see his kids after all.   He would come home for parts of the weekend, usually, a year ago, and see them, but he had been disappearing slowly for months.
I was blinded.  I was fighting for our marriage and my kids and he was definitely not fighting for them at all.  He was fighting to get away, I guess.  But, I am ashamed to admit it.  I was blinded.

Likely, I was hampering my children's happiness and well-being fighting for this ideal "both parents" scenario.  I was getting their hopes up, allowing them to call him, asking him to come home, having him promise to come home, and letting them know daddy was on his way, only to crush their poor little hearts myself telling them he was no longer going to see them.  I carry quite a burden of guilt about it now.  I feel like I've spent the last year compounding their pain, especially Spencer's, by fighting for what I thought was right.

I sit here writing this as Spencer is at his first official play therapy session.  I hear him behind the closed doors laughing as he meets with his new "friend."

Reflecting on my friends' words, one of them commented on how now that we live in our own place, our new place, and Jacob has been absent since the end of June, the expectation that the kids will see him again has dimished significantly.  Yes, they still look for him, miss him, and long for him.  But, Spencer especially knows that I have tried with all my might to bring his daddy to him, to call him, email him, text him, facebook him, find him... what have you, and his daddy is just not cooperating.  He knows.  He knows I tried.  Sometimes he's angry with me that daddy is missing, but he knows I tried to find him for him.   He's mostly stopped asking for daddy.  It breaks my heart, but it's likely for the best.  Because, as my friends pointed out, he's happy now.  He no longer struggles not knowing if daddy is going to follow through and actually call or visit.  He no longer gets excited to see him only to be crushed when he doesn't arrive.  It sucks, but it's good too, in a way.

Spencer is adjusting.  I can see it now.  I can see the light in his eyes brighter this week than I could ever before I really embraced my friends' words.

I told my friends, as I stated above, that I was afraid the disappearance of their dad would break them, would break us.  It hasn't.  Somehow, beauty has come from it.

I have struggled for months not knowing if I was doing good enough.  I didn't know or feel like I was being a good enough mom.  I didn't think I was able to be all that they needed parent wise.  I didn't know if I could provide joy and happiness amidst sorrow.  I did not know if my parenting choices were okay.  I am often overwhelmed with exhaustion or emotion and I let negative talk seep into my mind and constrict my own heart.

But, I see today that I'm doing okay.  I'm an okay mom. Maybe even a good mom?  A great mom?

Something is going right with my parenting, somehow.  Maybe it's the drive to surround them not only with my love, but the love of others.   I let them see that they're not alone.  It's not just us.  Daddy may be missing, but there's a world out there that still is present.  Maybe it's okay that I cry in front of them sometimes, or empathize with their sadness in losing their dad.  I miss him too, the man I thought he was, or that he was for a time.  I love him still.  I get it, and they know I'm not just saying it.

I don't know what it is.  But, by the grace of God, my son smiles, lights up with joy when he sees people he cares about walk through our door.  He runs to give hugs like he never did a year ago.  He opens up his mind and heart and lets us know what he's feeling.  He is going to be okay.

This has not broken us.  It will not break us.

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

a memorable hug

Nearly a year ago, my "little" brother left Minnesota on a deployment tour to Kuwait. The deployment ceremony was in May of 2011, and since that time, I believe we had seen him for two other days in the past nearly a year. That's more than many military families can say, I know and for that I'm grateful.

But, let's just be honest, 11 months of "touring" is a long time. Surely, it is for the soldiers, and also their families. I know it's nothing I've knowingly experienced before. And while it was my brother who was off on a mission and not a spouse or a child, it was still a big difference, and a big deal to me. I mean, I see my family every month or so, at least, despite the fact that they live over 2 hours away. We're close. I try to see them as much as a I can. So, when I would visit, or they would visit, multiple times over the last 11 months, and Bryan wasn't around (except for our family gathering and then again for my son's 1st birthday party), it just felt... different.

I have known for a while now, a couple months, anyway, that sometime in April, he would be coming home. He's told me many times, as have my sisters, other brother, and parents. But, I was never certain of the date, because a specific date was never given to us.

So, when my dad called me a week ago, roughly, to tell me that the weekend coming up (this past one, now), Bryan would probably be flying into Minnesota, I was really excited! I didn't think I'd be seeing him right away, but just knowing he'd be on home soil was amazing. And then on Saturday, I saw my mom had said that she's be picking him up on Sunday sometime.

Sunday, as in YESTERDAY. She had figured sometime in the afternoon.

Yesterday morning, she sent me a text saying she was on her way to get him.

And... it just so happens, that was PERFECT.

I had forgotten Spencer's diaper bag, which also housed my wallet, at my aunt's house for Easter the weekend before. Despite a whirlwind busy weekend, chalk full of things to do, Jake told me the other night that we would go get it on Sunday. My sister got it from my aunt's house, so we were going to stop by my dad's and pick it up before heading back to Sioux Falls for the Trans Siberian Orchestra concert.

Seeing as that my mother was getting Bryan in the morning instead of afternoon... that meant we would see him!

So, yesterday, around 3pm, I received one of the most memorable, best hugs I've ever received. And it was from my "little" brother, who is 7.5 years younger than me and towers over me by inches.

I walked up to my dad's house, and he, along with my siblings and parents, walked out. And, still dressed in his uniform, he came up and gave me the tightest hug I've gotten in ages. Ah! I am smiling now just thinking about it.

It was surreal to see him again, being that I hadn't really expected it!

Of course, my father, being the photographer that he likes to be, had to get a picture of us together... so we got to hug again... which became kind of awkward when my dad realized his camera was frozen, and we were standing in the front yard hugging like goons and smiling at my dad... who was not actually taking pictures yet, but telling us "just a minute, hold on." Haha. Bryan started dancing with me, "to the Elton John song in his head," and when I busted a gut laughing and tried to get away, he told me "no, wait, it's only the first chorus!"

So, not only did I get a great first hug, a long, awkward, hilarious second hug, and dance, but another couple when my dad finally enlisted my help in "thawing" (haha) his camera so he took pictures, and you know, when we left again, too. Yup, it was pretty great.

Bryan, for the record, has an excellent sense of humor. One of my biggest fears, aside from losing him while he was overseas, was that he'd come back super serious, or completely changed, and it would feel like we didn't know him at all.

Fortunately, that is not the case. Gosh. When you get all 4 of my siblings and I (ah! I'm so glad this happened) together, sitting at a table, talking and joking around, I laugh harder than I do most anywhere else. With Bryan there, it was just absolutely... perfect.

Though we had to leave after an hour and a half to get back in time for the concert, it was well worth the extra 2.5 hours of travel time, just to see him, talk with him, and hug him a few times. And, we left knowing that it won't be months before we see him again.

Ah!

Confessions (written) from (on) my phone.

Our computer is currently out if commission (again). I am afraid this time we will have lost everything on it for good, though I am keeping my fingers hypothetically crossed. That said, tonight, I am writing my blog on my cell phone. I expect that it will most likely be shorter than average, due to the one finger-letter at a time typing method I am forced to use.

I am happy to report that I went to the gym both days this weekend! Except for family swimming, I haven't really gone in ages. On Saturday, Jillian and I worked out while our sons stayed in the nursery and Jake played racquetball. We had a great laugh when we decided to try some of the weight machines, and after pulling on the levers a few times and staring at them quizzically, we decided they were broken, and moved on. Jake later showed us that we were in fact, just kind of... slow, and they worked fine if you had a clue what you were doing.

On Sunday, Jake taught me to play racquetball before we swam with Spencer. I will admit, my skills are lacking, but I had a blast! I didn't score a single point (which autocorrect had me writing store a dingle point, Haha), but I did have a few side-outs, so that says something I guess. Jake was playing "nice" though, so maybe it doesn't say much.

After the gym on Saturday morning, I read a text from ky mom, saying our long time family friend, Josh, passed away that morning as a result of a car accident. It took my breath away. He was a year younger than me, and one of ky brother's very best friends. The funeral is Wednesday.

Sunday night, Jesse and Samantha made it back to Sioux Falls, and we met them for supper. It was so great to see them again! They moved to Alaska in August. They are here for the next week or so and excited to spend Spencer's birthday with him.

They joined us and some friends for trick-or-treating tonight, where Spencer was dressed as a super cute elephant.

I am having a difficult time wrapping my kind around the fact that tomorrow is Spencer's first birthday. It does not seem like a year since we welcomed him into this world! I mean yes, he is walking and can say "Nicole," but it does not seem like it has been 12 months since I gave birth to him.

It is bittersweet. I am proud, blessed, and excited to know our miracle has been living with us a year already, but its sad to know his tiny, infant days are nearing the end. He is nearly a toddler!

People say time goes fast and to cherish the years you have with your children, because they aren't a baby for long. I always understood that, but feeling the time race by is a completely different story. I mused to jake the other night that I don't think it would seem to have gone so quickly, but he changed in size so fast. Newborn clothes for a month, the next size a few months later... barely holding his head up when we brought him home and now walking... its like his life exists in fast forward!

That said, he is sound asleep in his bed after a very long day, and I have this plaguing urge to go watch him sleep a while, thank God for him again, and pray a prayer for his next year of life.

Oh, how the years go by.

This weekend, Jake, Spencer, Wendell, and I packed up and headed to Minnesota, to spend the weekend at Jake's mom's house.

This is an activity that (well, with the exception of with Spencer, and sort of Wendell) is quite familiar to me.

Last night, Jake and I were sitting on his mother's couch, with Spencer playing on the floor (Wendell was outside with Jeb, Mindy's dog), and I had a flashback of this photo:

That photo was taken in 2002. Where we were sitting last night, we were facing that couch.

It dawned on me that I have been visiting Mindy's house for TEN YEARS. That's a decade.

Jake and I met in the summer of 2001. He came to my house the very first time on August 31, 2001. I don't know why I remember that date, but I do.

As we sat there, me staring at this photo (in my mind, of course) of us on the couch across from us, I was hit with so many flashbacks of time spent in that living room. And then, I said to Jake something about me coming to visit and spend the night there for TEN YEARS.

I followed with something like, "and now, we're bringing her GRANDSON with. I never saw that coming!"

It's amazing how time flies. Really. I mean, I sit here now and muse about what the next ten years will hold, and it sounds like a really, really long time, but it's not, at all.

I believe Jake's youngest brother, Josh, was about 12 when I met him the first time. He was at home this weekend too, and when he would walk up the stairs from the basement, I'd have a flashback of him being so young. He was about the same age as my littlest sister is NOW. She was TWO when Jake met her. TWO. That's only a year older than Spencer is! Wow!

The past 10 years really flew by faster than I ever imagined that they would. (Of course, this past year was the quickest flying of them all, if I do say so myself.)

Today, we went on a lunch date, and visited "China" (that's what the name of the restaurant in Windom is, "China," which I think is really... absurd...), and then just drove around town together, passing by old friends' houses. We covered almost the entire town, actually, reminiscing about old times, things we'd done together with our joint friends, and things we'd done separately that stood out to us as strong memories. It sounds kind of "lame" I suppose, but it was really fun, I think. I was silently overwhelmed with the realization of how much time I spent in that town, and at his mother's house, over the last decade, and how many wonderful memories I have with so many friends from the area.

I also decided that I can't wait until Spencer is a few years older, and we can take him back there, and take him on that drive, pointing out important places from the early years of his father and my relationship, as well as our memories with some of his blood and honorary aunts and uncles. I can't wait for him to play at the parks I hung out at, or eat at the McDonald's where his father gave me my first hug (from him, of course) early one summer morning at McPrayer.

I then realized I'd been friends with his best friend for 11 years already. And I met some of my other close friends 15 years ago (they went to my school, but one of them is now married and lives in Windom), which seemed even more insane.

In the evening, one of the friends that I have had since I was a toddler came over to Mindy's and brought her husband and her infant daughter. The six of us sat in the grass talking and watching our babies play, and she said, "this is much different than what we're used to doing when we hang out, isn't it? But it's awesome!" Or something similar. It gave me goosebumps. It was a wonderful moment.

I don't feel that much older than when I started making all of these wonderful friendships and memories with people from Windom, though obviously, I am. That's the crazy part. I guess, some days I feel older, but for the most part, I still feel so... young. But I'm actually closer to 30 than to 20, and I finally have a child that we'd been trying for, for so long.

As I write this, I have "Here's to the Night," by Eve 6 in my head. I had the lyrics to that written on a favorite pair of jeans from the summer prior to my senior year, as well as "icons" I drew of things that reminded me of my friends from that summer. I wore the jeans, actually, for one of my senior photos. Almost all of the memories from that song, that summer, and those jeans, are tied up in Windom, and my mother-in-law's house.

To me, that's pretty stinkin' awesome.

This photo has some of my dearest friends from 2001-2002.

A Good Weekend.

It's amazing how you can sit and talk with a close friend from high school (or elementary school, college, work, church, camp, etc.) and even if you are only together for a matter of minutes, your mind can be flooded with the memories you made together.

Tonight, as I lay in bed (where I am writing this on my phone), I am playing a memory in my mind where my dear friends mart, Jason, and I were going to a movie together one summer evening. Jason was driving, with his Nickelback cd playing, and one of them decided he knew a short cut to get to the town with the theater. As it turns out, he was very wrong, and we got a but lost, and were too late to really enjoy the film, so we went back to Jason's house. On the way, a surprise thunderstorm and torrential downpour happened upon our journey, and we had to pull over and sit on the highway, being blinded by constant lightning so bright we could barely see. I remember hoping we didn't die. Haha.

I miss those days, but I am grateful for the present, too.

I had a pretty good, back-to-normal sort of weekend of minimal tears, comparatively, and less heart ache.

Saturday started out pretty stressful as our initial plans for the day were nearly ruined, but it ended in just a two hour delay, in which we missed Jason's wedding ceremony, but were able to make it in time to the reception. We were fortunate to be able to spend a few hours with some of my good friends from high school and some of their children. In fact, we filled a table with good conversation and tons of laughter. I love having friends that I can see rarely but still hold close in my heart, if that makes sense.

Sunday, I received hugs and prayers again at church, but I managed not to cry. Impressive, i think. Though, admittedly I cried st the end of the service, knowing it was the last service a friend of ours would lead.

Following church, we spent the remainder of the day with my dad and sisters (and one of my sister's friends). We had lunch, spent a few hours at Falls Park enjoying the weather and each others company, had frozen yogurt, and finished the evening with some laughs and conversation at our place.

Again, I made it through all their hugs without tears. I didn't start tearing up until just bow, writing this actually, and thinking how Sprout's due date would have been Allison's 13th birthday.

It helped seeing Spencer so happy on both days. He loved "chasing" and watching our friends' three daughters at the wedding, and seeing him smile and interact with my family and his daddy, and hear his silly laugh so often today, really helps me cope and realize that life is good, even when bad things happen.

I am exhausted.

My thoughts on public grief in regard to my miscarriage.

I know it is a fairly common practice to keep a pregnancy a secret until one is considered "in the safe zone," or the second trimester. With Spencer, we told the world as soon as we saw the heartbeat. With Sprout, it was the same. I had always thought that I would love to share as soon as we knew the baby was healthy, meaning we saw a heartbeat, so that no matter what happened, we would have people praying.

I am glad we were able to share the joy of Sprout's blessing upon our lives with the world. As short lived as his or her presence was, at least we were able to really celebrate it. And, in a way, I think it may make the great loss a tiny bit more tolerable.

I think had I been forced to bury the miscarriage in secret, the pressure of having to "put on a game face," and pretend nothing is wrong would, undoubtedly, shatter my already broken heart.

While it may seem excessive grief to some, for example, those who do not wish to be a support to my family, at least I am fortunate to be able to grieve, as strong as I need, how I need to, without shame. I am a woman who has always been "blessed" with intense emotion, whether they're positive or negative, they are always strong. I cannot help but weep uncontrollably at the loss of the child I had been waiting to meet, and laugh uncontrollably at the joy of the son I already have. And, I think that's okay.

Writing, for example, my blog, or poetry, has always been a therapy I was gifted to be able to give myself. And, I like to hope that tete will be one person out there, somewhere, who can relate to my words, and find some solace, comfort, or understanding, in my story. From the struggle of infertility, to the joy of the birth of a child after winning the battle, to the joy of a second miracle, to the overwhelming loss of a baby, (or really any situation in between) no one should have to go through any season of life alone.

I can't say that I am not afraid people will judge me or think I'm "pathetic" or "weak" for being as heartbroken and sorrowful as I am, but, I have decided not to let that get me further down.

As I laid in bed before needing to clear my mind in hopes of another night's rest, I realized how absolutely surreal it is to me that in less than a year's time, one of the happiest days of my life came upon me, when our son Spencer was born (read here), and also one of the very saddest days of my life also occurred, the loss of our beloved and anticipated second child, Sprout (read here).

Mother of the Groom

This past weekend, we attended the wedding of Jake's step-brother, Cody, and his sweetheart, Emily. It was a wonderful wedding, I might add, very representative of the couple's personalities.

I've been to quite a few weddings in my lifetime (ever since I was a little girl), and been in a couple of them as well. And, obviously, I've had my own wedding. I've been a wedding photographer as well. I've enjoyed weddings from many facets because of this, participant, best friend, relative, and photographer. I've always been filled with joy and excitement for the couple, especially after being married myself, knowing what it feels like to be a bride.

But, I will admit, I've never really spent a lot of time thinking about the parents of the bride and groom, other than at my wedding when my dad walked me down the aisle to give me to Jake. I guess, if I had thought about it from a parents perspective, it's always just been the joy that I've felt that I assumed was all they felt too.

Well, now I'm a mother. For the first time, I sat through a wedding (other than my own or my best friend's), and was on the verge of tears the majority of the time. This time, I was experiencing the wedding, I feel, more closely to the way a parent of the groom would experience a wedding.

It was crazy to sit in the seat and watch Cody, my brother-in-law, get married, but see him as I feel his mother might have seen him. She always will be her firstborn, her "baby" boy, so to speak. And on Saturday, her baby was becoming a man. Yes, he was legally a man, in his early twenties to be exact, and had graduated college already. But, as I felt when Jake and I were married and we became "true adults," so too were Cody and Emily. I have no idea where this concept I hold of marriage meaning you're REALLY an adult came from, since there are many adults who are clearly adults and they are unmarried. So, I hope that didn't offend anyone reading.

But basically, I sat there watching the wedding, filled with joy, but feeling the bittersweet side of things much more purely than I ever had before. No longer would the groom come home to his mom's house as his own, because after Saturday, he is off to build his own home with his own wife. They're building a life outside that of the parents. Officially, there is a new leading lady in his life. While she has been there a while, it seems a bit different after a wedding, you know?

So, I sat there, dwelling on those feelings, and realizing that before I know it, God willing, MY baby boy will meet a woman who will become the leading lady in his life, and I will give him away to her to build his own life, to become a man, to move out and to move on, just as Jake and I have already done, and our parents and so many others in our families before us.

Yes, he's 7 months old only, and I have many years before a wedding will happen (like I pray that it will, I pray so dearly my boy will find love like I have), but when that day comes, I know it will feel like it's come all too soon.

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.

A Morning with My Mother

I couldn't sleep very well last night, so naturally, as it carried on into the morning, I rose out of bed pretty early (for a Saturday, at least), 8:23 a.m.

Not more than five minutes after, as I was leaving the bathroom, my cell phone started ringing. It was my mom.

I answered, of course, and she said, "I hope I didn't wake you up." I assured her she didn't, and then she told me the basis for this early morning phone call.

"I'm looking at your photos on some... website, where you're 'LadyEmeraldEyes,' and there is this one of snowflakes on your windshield, and it's AMAZING." She continued to rave about the beauty of this particular photograph, and then carry on with the rest of them, telling me that I'm an amazing photographer, along with other various compliments.

Of course, it brought a smile to my face. An unexpected, early-morning phone call from my mom in which the premise was to pay me high compliments? Who wouldn't smile?

Then, she mentioned how she is one of my biggest fans.

Now, my mom and I haven't always gotten along the best, it's true, though I love her dearly and cherish her as a treasure. We have been getting along for over a year now without stress, which is truly a joy.

But, I will be honest, sometimes I forget that she's such a big fan. I feel ashamed to say it, but I must admit it is true.

So, perhaps the best part of the hour-long phone call that began with compliments and continued on with various chatter covering a myriad of topics, was that after we said "I love you," and "talk to you later," I hung up the phone with a renewed sense that my mother is and always has been one of my biggest fans.

Now that I'm off the phone, I went to find the photo she was talking about, and I assumed she meant on flickr, but wouldn't you know, I can't find it there, so I don't know how she did. But, I did find it on my etsy site.

"Pretty Little Things." January 20, 2008. ©Nicole Worthley

The Value of Postage

I'll be completely honest, I don't even know (without looking it up) what the price of a single postage stamp costs these days. I haven't really paid much attention when buying a book of them, and therefore, just do not know.

I do know, however, that the value of a postage stamp, in my opinion, is worth much more than say, 47 cents or whatever it is that you pay.

(Though, as a sidenote, I believe that there is no value in postage if it is being used to pay bills. I feel like companies who overcharge you (as most do) for their services and then expect you to not only write a check or money order and pay an extra amount just to mail it back to them (because heaven forbid they have an online or telepay option) should definitely pay for the postage themselves and send you an envelope that is prepaid. Yeah, that's how I feel.)

I'm sitting here at home, eating some chocolate peanut butter ice cream, having just finished going through the mail that we received today. In our box was a wonderful surprise, a hand-written letter from my younger brother, who is at basic training for the National Guards. Now, granted, his handwriting sucks and some of it is barely legible, but it is a treasure, nonetheless.

There's something about opening up the mailbox, sorting through all the junk, and finding a piece of actual correspondence, from an actual person (let alone one you know and love), written in his or her actual handwriting that just makes the heart smile (not to mention the face)!

I can't lie and tell you that I'm great at staying on top of handwriting correspondence, nor do I send out letters to my family and friends at the rate that I used to, especially when I lived at home in a small town, or was at camp during the summer and had little connection with everyone, but I do take pride in the fact that I do, from time to time, manage to get a piece of "snail mail" out there into the world. While I haven't been told by everyone who receives a handwritten morsel of thoughtful goodness that they really appreciate the gesture, I do believe that the recipients enjoy the letters when they arrive.

It's kind of sad to think that the internet, cell phones and text messages have almost wiped out the art of letter-writing in our younger generations, but, alas, it seems to be true. I just hope this artform doesn't completely vanish any time soon.

I guess in closing, I'll just say that if you feel like being truly generous, buy a few stamps, spend a few minutes writing down your thoughts, pack them in an envelope, seal, address, and mail. I wouldn't complain the least if it were me that were the chosen recipient, either.

Four Years Ago.

Four years ago today, I was called by my maiden name.

Four years ago tomorrow, my name changed.

My world changed.

It's funny to think that it's been four years tomorrow since Jake and I were married. Sometimes it feels like the years went by in a flash. Other times, it seems like we've crammed so much into them that they have gone by at a snail's pace. It's funny how four is a constant, it's the same number no matter how you look at it- the same quantity. But yet, at any given time, it can feel so much different than it did moments before.

I don't remember a lot about four years ago from today, oddly enough. I remember sitting a the reception hall with my mother, my grandmother, and my sisters, arranging and rearranging tables, photographs, and decorations.

I remember, what I think was a wonderful grooms' dinner, where Jake's father and my father took charge of grilling and we spent the evening at park with our wedding party and family. I remember crying happy tears.

I remember going home, and knowing I needed to sleep, and finally being forced to go to bed, while my maid of honor and best man, and my soon-to-be husband finished getting ready for the big day. I remember pressing butter into molds so that it'd be cute on the tables.

Four years ago from tomorrow, though, I can see in my mind like a movie. Getting up, putting on a Schwan's shirt and heading to the hair stylist (with my maid of honor in matching attire). Meeting my bridesmaids there (except my youngest sister and Jake's sister), then going for coffee. Going to the church, getting ready, seeing Jake for the first time (after peeking around a church door trying to catch an early glimpse), the photos, and being whisked into hiding before the ceremony.

I remember being so calm. I hadn't felt so certain of anything before.

My dad walked me down the aisle to "I Believe," by Blessid Union of Souls, played on piano by a friend of mine. The ceremony was beautiful to me. I was told by some dear friends it was the most romantic ceremony they'd seen. (I never was able to see it, as the recording didn't work, but we do have an audio CD that I will most likely listen to tomorrow.)

My favorite part of the ceremony was when I tried (more than once) to put his ring on the right hand, not the left. We laughed. Our photographer caught the moment for us.

Fast forward to when we left the church, and my mother's idea of having birdseed thrown at us came to life. It wasn't the best idea there could have been. I had birdseed wedged into my dress and we had to pit-stop so my personal attendant and I could lift it up and I could shimmy best I could to get it to fall out.

I remember most of the reception, including people eating the butter like it was mints and laughing hysterically as they did so. The speeches, the kisses, the cake, and of course, the dance.

Our first dance was to "A Page is Turned," by Bebo Norman. For our first anniversary, I put on my wedding dress again, and when Jake came home, he pressed "Play" on the CD player where I had attached a note, and I came out of hiding, dressed as I was a year before, and we danced to our song again.

When I hear the songs from our dollar dance, I can remember who I danced with to each song. It's insane to me how vivid the memories are!

I could continue on and on, but I guess I'm probably boring you all.

Jake, if you read this, Happy 4th Wedding Anniversary. I can't wait for the 5th and every one from here on out.

For Her Birthday.

Today would have been my Grandmother Leora's 71st Birthday.

My grandmother was one of my very best friends in this entire world.

This year, instead of (hopefully) crying a hundred tears, dwelling entirely on how much I miss her, how badly I wish I could call her up at home and wish her a happy birthday, hear her voice saying she loves me and how proud she is of me, or wanting to call up to heaven even just to leave a voicemail, I decided to enlist the aid of my cousin and plan a family reunion to celebrate the life we all share, given to us because she lived.

All of her children, most of their spouses, and almost all of her grandchildren and great-grandchildren will be packing up their cars and their memories, and gathering at a park not too many miles from where she grew up, and not too far from where we all were raised, and hopefully spending the day surrounded by love, smiles, and laughter.

I think she would have loved the idea.

Of course, though, since it is her birthday, I feel like I should leave her a little note. It would read:
Dearest Gma,
I love you. I miss you, your kind voice, your amazing hugs, and your overwhelming precense in my life. I hope that your day is full of smiles. While I usually believe that you are able to watch down on us all from heaven, I'm not always certain... yet, today, I feel that you really can, especially since it's such an important day. I hope that this gathering of family is the best gift you feel you could have been given.
I love you,
Nicole Marie


Leora Mae Flesner; June 19, 1939 - February 1, 2007

Un-Revealing Morning.

This morning, Jake and I had an ultrasound scheduled. It was actually the fetal anatomical screening, where they measure... most everything.

I was looking forward to this ultrasound more than some of you can probably imagine... because... today was the day I was supposed to find out if we're having a son or a daughter!

When we started the ultrasound (and for almost 45 minutes after) baby kept putting his/her hands and feet up by the face, and was in prime position to find out the sex. Unfortunately, the ultrasound technician didn't seem to notice or care, and then she made me get up and move around so the baby would move and she could see the spine. Well, with that, baby moved all four limbs down to between the legs, and covered the area that would let me know if I should buy pink or blue. The technician tried to get baby to move, but baby refused (hey, who could blame, s/he had his/her legs and hands up by the face for a long time just waiting to give away the secret, and probably got pretty tired) to move, and we had to leave not knowing.

Now, Jake doesn't want to know until the birth, but he really wanted me to be able to know, simple because I wanted to know. So, we were both pretty disappointed, and actually pretty annoyed with the technician who should have just looked for that right away while it would have been clear as day.

The technician said I can probably have another ultrasound in a month or so and she could try again. So we'll see.

But in happy ultrasound news, everything else looks great! Tech said that baby has long legs (which isn't surprising since Jake is 6'5"). We saw both hands, both feet, fingers, and toes. Baby was yawning occasionally, which melted my heart. We also watched it kick and punch back at the ultrasound wand thing, which was pretty cute.

The heart has all four chambers, and was beating at 158 beats per minute this time. The umbilical cord, placenta, and blood vessels are all functioning properly. The stomach, kidneys, and bladder are all forming properly, and the brain too! So, baby is healthy, and right on track for growth! So that, at least, was totally worth seeing.

In unrelated news, all of Wendell and Vivian's second litter of puppies have found homes. It's been stressful, going from having 2 dogs, to 10, and then the dwindling numbers back down to 1. I had been feeling pretty emotional since not all of them had found people to love them as much as I would, but luckily, today, they all have. It's quite a relief. Hopefully, Wendell will behave a little better now, too.

Okay, I'm going to go for now. Hopefully, sooner than later, I'll have something un-related to pregnancy to talk about so you all don't get bored.

Love!


PS: Crotch is a funny word.

Burstin' My Bubble.

Today, I am 19 weeks pregnant. That's nearly halfway there, if you go by the 40 week gestation period! I can hardly believe it.

I found out I was pregnant on February 22. I was one day shy of 4 weeks along at that point. It's crazy to think it's already been 15 weeks since I took that test on a whim, and refused to believe it. It's been 15 weeks since Jake called me, his only response was the most elated, overjoyed, jubiliant, rolling giggle I have ever heard.

19 isn't generally that exciting, I guess (though I do prefer odd numbers over even, so I like it better than 20 weeks), except... I woke this morning to a wonderful surprise.

I was lying in bed, mostly asleep, just thinking about what all I had going on today, and dreading however many minutes it would be before my alarm went off. I felt this strange, bubbling sensation in my lower left abdomen, off to the side of my belly button a few inches. It was very quick, but I noticed it in my grogginess. I didn't think much of it.

Until a short time later I felt it again in the same spot. It felt almost like there was a tiny bubble-gum bubble forming and then bursting softly inside me.

Then I realized what it was. Baby had kicked (or punched) me! I laid there a little bit longer, but I really had to pee, so I didn't get to feel it again. I know it's still kind of early for any consistency, and that it's best felt lying still and relaxed, but I'm hoping to feel it again soon!

In other news, on Sunday, Jake and I got together with our friends, Robert & Jillian, who brought a beautiful baby boy into the world on May 25. Now, I always love babies, and I love watching Jake interact with babies, but for some reason, this time was more exciting than usual. When we parted ways, Jake could do nothing but tell me how he cannot wait until we have one.

And we are going to!

Grayson is the first newborn we've met since finding out we were expecting, and it seems so much more emotional now. Not only are we excited beyond belief for Robert & Jillian, but it's now also a reminder that our dreams are coming true, as well.

Oh, and unrelated to that, but my 15 year-old sister, Samantha, moved in for the summer! I'm pretty excited. I hope she doens't get bored with me in too big a hurry!

The Baby Book Wedding Graduation.

Last Friday (May 28th), my best friend of over 19 years got married! It was my second favorite wedding I've ever been to (next to my own, obviously). I was the only bridesmaid (Maid of Honor (and Awesomeness)), with four groomsmen, a flower girl, and a ring bearer (who really didn't want to be the ring bearer, he even told the photographers).

I tell you what, though, on Thursday, we left Sioux Falls to head to Minneapolis, and about half an hour away from home, my car decided to die on us. Yeah. Not cool. We coasted into a small town, and sat at an auto shop for about an hour and they told us we should probably call the bride and tell her we weren't going to make it. I started crying... and well, Jake took care of things. His mom came and picked us up, and his best friend's mom let us borrow her car for the weekend.

My wonderful husband was kind enough to chauffer the bride and I to the hair appointment, and then the church, and though he didn't have an official job after that, until the reception, he found plenty to do to be helpful and keep busy.

Therefore... he didn't really take any photos. Ah well. Here's one from the bride's little sister, of Michelle and I. It'll do for now.

My dress fit, despite the pregnant belly and boobs (Jake had to pin the front of the dress to my bra, but hey, I didn't flash anyone) so that was fantastic.

The entire day was a lot of fun, but completey exhausting. I bet I fell asleep promptly at 12:05.

Saturday, we joined the newlyweds for gift opening and brunch, and following, met up with Jake's best friend. We asked him to take a few photos of us so that we had a recent one to put in our baby book. He is a new aspiring photographer, and hadn't really photographed people before, so it was a fun experience for all three of us, I think.

Here are a few of my favorites from the set (they're distorted because my drag and resize skills suck):

You can see more of my favorites by clicking this link.

After the photography session, we went out to eat at a wonderful pizza place, with our friend and his friend, and then to a one-man play called "The House Can't Stand." It was... uh... interesting. The guy played a woman telling a story about her life through her political history and past love life. I liked the first half, and then in the middle, she started to sleep with Abe Lincoln from the past brought into the future (because she was telling him about Obama)... and well, I sort of lost interest. The actor did really well, but it became really hard for me to focus and follow. Plus, my uterus was hurting, so what do you do? Truthfully, I can't tell you if I liked or disliked it.

Then the guys took us out to a wine bar.

We came back after, and I fell asleep on the couch, and eventually went to bed.

Sunday, my little brother graduated high school. Ah! He's going into the guards, and leaves in August. He won't be around for the birth of my baby! I am really proud of him, though. And at the reception, there were all of his pictures from his school career, so I got a good laugh seeing his Kindergarten picture again. It looks like he's pooping his pants.

Unfortunately, we weren't able to stay as long as I would have liked, because we had to go back to Jake's home town to drop off the borrowed car, and have his mom drive us back to our car, which was, luckily, done. The water pump needed to be replaced, and the old man quoted us $1,300 for repairs. HOLY MOLY! I about died. Jake talked to him, and it turns out he gave us the wrong quote, that was for a transmission job, and ours was much less, thankfully.

The end.

Oh wait, the internet at our place is still all sorts of crazy, despite my cousin's laptop, so I'm still not around consistently. I apologize!