Dear Diary.

My very first diary was given to me in 1991. I was 8 years old. 

Somehow, through the years, I managed to hold onto it. Not only that, but it's in dang near perfect condition over 20 years later.

I generally forget that I have it. Tonight, however, I found it beside a stack of games I have stored high up on a shelf.

I decided to open it up and read it. It's amazing to look back and see the hand writing of a little girl in elementary school, and the things I thought important enough to pen for future memories.

Here's my first ever diary entry:

It's so simplistic. No stresses or worries. No fears. Just simple daily joys. Such innocence and silly grammar. 

I kept journals off and on through high school and college, as well as online ifs for the last 13 or so years as well. 

Life has become much more complicated since then, of course. My pen and paper journals are stored away in a box somewhere, as I used to dream someday I would have children, and hopefully a daughter that loved to journal, and I could leave my thoughts, fears, joys, wishes, and dreams on paper to them. They would get a chance to know a younger version of the "old lady" that raised them.

It was fun and refreshing to read through my diary, even if it was only a few entries, not a full book worth.

Points are Overrated

Points are overrated right? Sometimes? Like... A pointy edge of your fingernail that catches and snags a sweater, or... Uh...

Yeah. Well, some are.

So, straight up, I wanted to blog. But, I don't really have anything that I would seem to be meaningful to write about. But, my sister and I have been slowly working through the seasons of HouseM.D. and the episode we just started is about a chick who blogs pretty much everything, which sparked my interest in writing.

I miss Wendell. Lots and lots.

Last blog I wrote was an important one. And the one before it. Read that if you'd like.  I think I'm finally fully grasping the reality of it, and now starting to practically prepare. Well, as much as one can this early. 

At work, they know I'm pregnant, so they are now working with me to keep me safe and not alone with the most agressive or violent kids. It feels a little embarrassing, but I know it's a blessing.

Pancakes are awesome. We need to go grocery shopping (real soon), but fortunately pancakes exist. Yesterday, my sister and I decided on apple cinnamon pancakes for lunch. Today, we had coconut pancakes for lunch. Yumm-o!

I've become an exceptionally enticing jungle-gym to the boys. I swear, 94% of my day is spent with them climbing on top of me.  But, tonight, both boys have special dates and I will get to sit on the couch ALL BY MYSELF. Yay!

Spencer has recently decided he is a nudist. More often than not, he walks out of the room and returns without a diaper on. It's... special. We suggest the potty chair, but he still has a meltdown when he gets on it. Any suggestions? I would love for him to be out of diapers come April.

Speaking of the potty chair, one of Collin's favorite activities is to push the potty chair around the house like its a walking toy. It cracks me up every time.

We have been convincing Spencer Baby Boo's name is Rochibo. Haha. Because its hilarious. And it is short for Rosita Chiquita Bonita (Chihuahua) from Lady and the Tramp.

Everyone keeps telling me that hope we have a girl. I would love it... but at the same time I am not sure I'm "mom to a girl" material. Not that it's up to me regardless. I still think its a boy. But we don't really have any boy names we agree on or love, so... 

I told my sister the other night that I think I'll take this third baby as an opportunity to flex my creativity (you know, because I'm out of paint) and name it something like Jiminixty Boogita. Or Cougar Banjo. OrChartreuse  Zimbabwe. Boing-Boing Lulu.  Or  Vulcan Pirate. Or Christmas Bogart. Or Prairie Echo. Or Thor! God of Thunder! 

(Insert political statement here.)

Haha. But really, the Syria thing is a lose-lose either way. No bueno.

I got a letter in the mail from my 22-year-BFF. It was the most wonderful surprise. I have been totally slacking on any and all handwritten correspondence. To the point where my handwriting is starting to look unusual. It's sloppy.. by my standards. I was writing on my calendar the other day and was kind if appalled by it. In general, I think my handwriting is pretty nice. 

Man, sometimes pointless babbling feels good. It's almost like therapy.

Kind of like sneaking into the Barnes & Noble bathroom the other night for the specific purpose of taking a stupid duck-face selfie with my coffee and posting it to Instagram (I am @goghgreen) be cause my sister didn't think I really would.

Complete with feminine products dispenser and mostly finished Starbucks.

Seriously, why do people do photos like this? The duck face is bad enough, but the butt-out and sassy pose and the "oh look I have an iPhone" reflection? Guess what, iPhone users, you can make the lens switch so you don't even need the mirror! And everyone wise, turn your phone around, for crying out loud. Oh, and why post multiple duck face selfies a week? Or a day? I could go on and on about this topic, but I'll stop.. 

I much prefer the folder of 534 Spenk Selfies on my phone.

Especially the ones his dad got involved in, for example:

I apologize if you read this hoping due any quality content.

And to close, courtesy of my sister.., "my milkshake brings all the boys to the yard..."

The Abominable Ice Storm/Treepocalypse

The past few days have been somewhat surreal, in my opinion.

South Dakota has been smacked with a strange winter storm. It's like one I do not remember experiencing and it seems to have wreaked more havoc on the city than any storm I've experienced.

To make it even more absurd... I don't think it really even felt like a winter storm.

Normally, when I hear or experience a winter storm, I think blizzard. Lots if snow and high winds and sub-zero temps, and white out conditions.

This ice storm, in my limited experience (as in from inside the house), was more like a gentle rain.

Except it seemed to freeze as soon as it hit anything.

So... Every little inch of world seemed to be encased in inches of ice by Wednesday, which was pretty, but kind of creepy. You would go out and look around the neighborhood to see tons of trees had lost branches the size of small trees. This was in every yard as far as I could see.

I actually watched a tree branch fall a split second after a moving car passed under it. Nearly hit it in motion.

I watched three branches fall in neighbor yards, and watched one snap from our tree and land on the suburban. Thankfully, the beast, 'Burbie, is tough and nothing happened to it really.

As all this happened, power was going out all over town. When I called this morning to hear the update, 420 workers from four states were here trying to repair damage and restore power, and approximately 90,000 had been affected. Though, they are down to about 15,000 only (haha) being without power now.

Unfortunately, sometime before I woke yesterday morning, our house had joined the ranks of the power-less. We held out until about 3pm when it was 59 degrees and Jake had to work. Then, bless her heart, Jenn welcomed us all into her family's home.

The storm has ripped the power line away from the back of our house though. It's still connected, but dangling. So, when I called in yesterday to report the loss of power and the dangling line, they said they'd send someone to check it out. At that point they were hoping power would be restored at 11pm last night. Unfortunately, that was not the case for us.

Not only that, but we were told our house is a big fire risk with the line as-is and not to be there until they've repaired it. They said they would try to have that done by noon today.

That still doesn't mean the power will be on. This morning's automated update from the electric company states they hope to have it restored by tonight but will still be working on individual problems through tomorrow.

We are fortunate, really, for a few reasons. The first in that we held out until Thursday to lose our power. The second, that while there was power in the dangling line, our house didn't burst into flames. Third, no huge branches have fallen onto our house at this point, and I'm hoping it remains that way. And fourth, that we had a few options as to warm homes, and even though Jenn is incredibly busy working (she is a WAHM for Butterfly Designs- search it up on Facebook- she's amazing), that she opened up her home to us yesterday, not really knowing how long we might end up being without power, has helped provide food and drink for me and the boys because we didn't being ours not knowing we would be here this long, and for giving us a warm place to sleep last night, and still be yet this morning. We are incredibly thankful.

I'm hoping to be back home by tonight. Not that I don't love Jenn and her family, but it's always hard being away from home unexpectedly, and I think everyone is feeling that way a little bit, and I know that it's equally hard having people crash your home unexpectedly, too. Thank God for patience, grace, compassion, and understanding, right?

Here are a few photos from around my house/neighbors from Wednesday and Thursday. I've seen more on Instagram and Facebook also. When we drove over here yesterday, it was so... surreal, to see trees down everywhere, or huge trees broken in half right down the center with half standing and half laying down, and others bent over looking like giant umbrellas. I told Jake that I've never seen such sad looking trees.

A toddler tornado.

It's tornado season. Full force. Has been for months, at our house anyway.

Today has been especially chaotic.

Collin woke at 7:15. I tried for a good hour to get him back to sleep. At about 8:20, he seemed out. I was a lucky lady and fell asleep also, until I woke at 9:02 to the sound of water....

Oh my word. I rushed into the bathroom and found that Spencer had awoke quietly, dumped a bunch of stuff in the tub (roll of toilet paper, a diaper, toys, socks, puzzle pieces) where there was a small bit of water as the alligator was in there growing (one of those toys that sits in water and gets bigger). He was then scooping up the tub water with a fireman helmet and dumping it in the toilet. Amazingly, the bathroom floor was dry.

Okay. So I pulled the plug out of the drain and kicked him out of the bathroom. While I was taking things out if the tub, he was in our room waking Collin, and stripping the blankets and pillows off the bed again. To jump on it, of course.

That made Collin laugh, as usual, and then he was playing peekaboo, laying face down on the bed. Of course, this entire time I was trying to persuade him to let me fix his shirt, which was half off, and change his diaper. I figure it's easier on all if I wait until he is willing.

As he played I took pictures and noticed he uploaded a random background image I had downloaded of the moon into Instagram and apparently tweeted a photo of our bedding on twitter.

Finally, got that taken care of and we came downstairs for breakfast. I gave him a bowl of Apple Jacks (dry) and asked him to sit in the chair nice and eat them because Collin was going to use the high chair for his. He sat there a few minutes nicely, so I escaped to the kitchen to make coffee.

By the time I had coffee made and dishes started, SJ had snuck upstairs. I assumed he had finished his cereal and brought the bowl with to play (he loves containers), so I figured that was fine.

I hear him up there talking super loud nonsense for quite a while. Then, he yelled "Alligator Cat!"

I knew then he had my phone. Oh gosh. Apparently, he called the Verizon operator/robot lady. Then, text Desi a bunch.

I went upstairs to get it and found he had been eating his cereal on our bed.

Oh, and I then discovered he had taken 43 self-portraits, also.

Came back down stairs and he and Collin were playing, so I went back to the kitchen and started to take off my nail polish and he came running through and scared me (apparently I must have had the coffee jitters) and I spilled nail polish remover all over the cupboard, myself, and into my coffee.

I accidentally yelled "Damnit!"

Then, of course, he started yelling it while jumping all over.

Finally, we are calm. We are all watching a "Praise Baby" video.

It could be quite a long day.

I sometimes look at my kids, both in diapers, then reflect on days like today and think "what the crap were we thinking?!"

Guess, deep down, a part of me loves (or tolerates) the chaos, because I wouldn't trade these boys for anything.

Here, enjoy proof of my tornado season. Haha.

(And as I started getting these photos uploaded a certain someone decided that he should play butt naked on he stairs.)

Nap time yet?

Just sharing a great giveaway!

I met Marie of Finished Vision Photography via church. She does AMAZING work. She's also a sweetheart.

And, again this year, she is hosting a huge giveaway, where one person wins this ands of dollars worth of prizes.

If you're in the Sioux Falls area, or come here sometimes, you probably want to enter this one!

I can't link-link.., so I apologize, you will have to copy and paste.

http://finishedvision.com/blog/10k-fan-big-vision-giveaway

Good luck!!

The first week

Last week, quite randomly, it seems, Jake was hired somewhere.  I'm a cruddy wife, honestly, as I have NO idea what the place is called that hired him.  Or his boss's name. Or entirely what he does.

But, he was hired.  I hope it's a permanent thing.  He's been working for a week now.  It's quite a relief.  Mostly.

It's tough, though. I went from having him home and helping with the boys the majority of the time to having him gone the majority of the time overnight.  Really.  He found out about the job and that they would hire him and started the next day.

The job is long hours.  He leaves before the boys get up and generally isn't home until way past supper.  Six days a week. The first few days were quite an adjustment.  The boys both started to get pretty sensitive and cranky around supper time, I assume missing daddy.   We plowed through, and by the end of this week, we have mostly adjusted, I think.

He came home early tonight, and I got to get out of the house.  I'm on "vacation!"  The past few days have been rough.  Spencer has been a bit whiny, and Collin hasn't really wanted to nap.  I feel like I haven't gotten a dang thing done at home, even though I know that's not true.

I've done 8 loads of laundry.  Countless loads of dishes.  I roasted a turkey. I made homemade soup.

And, I've cleaned the house multiple times.  Though, heaven knows you couldn't tell. Spencer is quite a tornado.  I feel defeated at the end of the day if the house looks like a toy-closet explosion, but, generally, it does, and I'm trying to not be too hard on myself.  

Somehow, today, both boys and I were playing in the basement, which is currently a toy den, and I got it mostly cleaned WHILE he was playing in it.  I call that a triumph!  I'm super-mom!  Of course, I'm sure by the time I get home again, it'll look like it did pre-cleaning, but that'll be how it is, I guess.

I don't have much more to say about this all, but I wanted to provide an update, because the past few blog entries have been a bit heavier and written with a less hopeful heart.  While we're still struggling, I think we're finally struggling upward instead of downward.   I'll take it as it is and pray that it continues to improve.

We get along... better.

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

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

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

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

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

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

To that, I must say, I did agree.

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

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

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

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

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

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

I won't bore you with many more examples.

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

where the love spilled out they called it art

Have you ever found a CD that you fell totally, completely in love with?

I have.

And it was totally unexpected. Well, maybe not totally, but I wasn't expecting it. Maybe that is totally. Who knows. I'm tired, and done contemplating the phrase.

When I was a daycamp director for Shetek Lutheran Ministries in the summer of 2005, my friends (co-workers, what have you) and I were in Sioux City, IA shopping. While there, I came across a music/CD store, and was browsing the discount bin. The CD I found was Edwin McCain's "The Austin Sessions." I already owned two of his CDs and liked them, and thought the $4.99 sticker was quite a bargain, so I purchased it.

I would like to be able to report that I took it back to our host family's house and listened to it right away on my discman, but that'd be a lie.

It wasn't until almost a year later that I finally opened it and gave it a listen.

I remember the setting vividly. It was my college dorm room, spring of 2006. I was an RA that year and had a room to myself. Jake and I were engaged, and he was over visiting. At one point, we were going through my CDs to find some music to listen to, and there the CD was. So, we opened it. Then, I laid down in the middle of my floor and used my red body pillow to support my head. Jake joined me and we laid there listening to the CD in its entirety... more than once.

Immediately, I loved it.

It's a mostly acoustic set (I don't know if there's drums or piano, the CD is in my car currently) but it's mainly guitar, mandolin, possibly banjo (I could look it up, but like I said, I'm tired). I love acoustic music, so it's right up my style.

What I wasn't prepared for was to fall in love with each and every song. I don't know that it's honestly happened to me before this CD, nor after. I like most songs on most CDs I own, but I don't love them all.

Sure, some of the songs on the CD are somewhat dark or somber, but some are really upbeat and bright sounding. And they're all just amazing.

If I recall correctly, after researching the album a long time ago, most, if not all songs, are covers that McCain did of various other artist's music. But, not once had I heard any song before. I haven't looked any of them up since, either.

Sadly, when we moved, I lost my original CD, and it's really hard to find. Brand new on amazon.com, it's over $20. But, because I loved the CD so much, I had burned a copy for a friend or two years ago, and one of my darling friends re-burned me a copy to have at home again, because I've missed it so much.

Even Spencer likes some of the songs. He loves to dance to "Little Girls."

Jake loves the songs, too. His ambition is to learn to play them all.

I remember once, listening to the song "Romeo and Juliet" in Jake's... gold... car (I forget what kind of car it was) in the country late at night while we were driving home from somewhere. I was suddenly overcome with the realization that one day, we'll die, and how I really hope that it's together because I can't imagine either of us having to live without the other.

My favorite song on the CD, however, is called "No Choice." I will leave you with a link to a cover of it by some guy on youtube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=09lpEpK8COg (because it's all I could find) and the lyrics. It's just downright beautiful.

It was a love so big that it filled his heart
Til it swelled and finally burst apart
And where the love spilled out they called it art
But he never really had no choice

Chorus
Whoa, he had no choice
No, he never had no choice
When he gave his river a voice
He never really had no choice.
He was thinking that the pain came much too soon
When he locked himself up inside his room
Well it hurt real bad to write that tune
but he never really had no choice
And there were some who could not understand
When he built those castles with his hands
And he knew damn well they were only sand
But he never really had no choice.

Chorus

Sometimes a man sometimes a boy
And he made some music and he made some noise
But he felt his pain and he felt his joy
But he never really had no choice.
There was a beautiful fire inside of him
As he balanced his way out on that limb
Could've burned right through that branch so thin
but he never really had no choice

(Chorus)

And they all talked about him when he died
They studied and they theorized
But when he was through they'd laughed and cried
And he never really had no choice
It was a love so big that it filled his heart
'Til it swelled and finally burst apart
Where the loved spilled out they called it art
But he never really had no choice

(Chorus)
(Chorus)

All the single Golden Girls...

My dreams aren't always exciting. Sometimes, they're terrifying. Sometimes, they're confusing. Sometimes, I wake up thinking they happened in real life.

And... sometimes, they're just comical.

For instance.

I had a dream...

I see an iPhone text-message conversation going:

Bea Arthur: Now put your hands up, up in the club!
Betty White: Just broke up. Doing my own little thing.
Bea Arthur: You decided to dip? And now you want to trip?!
Betty White: 'Cause another brother noticed me.

And then.........

Bea, Betty, Rue, and Estelle hop into my field of vision. They're in the middle of the local Goodwill, apparently shopping for an ugly sweater party. They're holding a TON of hideous sweaters, kicking their legs, humming, and singing "uh oh-oh, uh oh-oh-oh-oh-oh, uh oh-oh."

That's right, these feisty ladies are getting their dance on!

Then then, they throw their sweaters at me, and one hits me in the cheek with the clothes hanger on it, and it hurts, and I yell "NOT NICE!"

And... they start singing, "If you liked it then you shoulda put a ring on it. If you liked it then you shoulda put a ring on it. Don't be mad when you see that he want it! If you liked it then you shoulda put a ring on it."

Oh crikey.

And then Betty gets all up in my face, singing verse two, while the others are doing some sort of geriatric version of Beyonce's famous dance.

Yup. I woke up with "Single Ladies" stuck in my head, and I cannot get it to go away.

Bollocks!

Oh, and for those of you who may have imagined those fine females in the really skin-tight black unitard thing that Beyonce sports....

fear not.

They were wearing kelly green stirrup legging pants, and their typical matronly blouse type shirts. It was much less risque.

The poet returned.

Oh yes, yes, I am writing another blog post tonight.

This one, of a completely different nature.

This one, filled with joy.

This one, showcasing...

a poetic piece of prose. (Ah, alliteration)

I am kind of in shock, actually, as it's been "eons" since I last penned an artistic piece on a random page of a random... paper item. Tonight, it happened to be a spiral-bound notebook, which is much less "quirky" than what I would find in the darkness of my room in my high school days when I wouldn't even bother to turn on the light to write something, and then in the morning, I would have a grand 'ol time trying to decipher my script.

Regardless, tonight, for whatever-on-a-whim reason, my heart lead me to write.

This is for Spencer.

"baby breath"

Controlled
chaos
in a warm hospital room
enveloped the night
in pure anticipation.

I cried,
"It's so hard!"

"I know. You can do this,"
he calmly replied.

One last time
I worked for a breath.
I grasped it-
contained it.

You arrived.
You breathed.
You cried.
You screamed for a brief eternity.

Cold, loud, bright,
terrifying,
this world is like nothing
you ever experienced
before,
or will
again.

Time stands
still in my mind.

Finally, I saw you.
so angry,
so beautiful.

...and then, the moment,
the one I spent my
life
dreaming of...

Tears
slowly cascaded from my eyes
to my chest,
where you
rested
against me.

Heartbeat to heartbeat,
we met
again
but also
for the very first time.

My breath was stolen
by your grand entrance,
and in that moment
where we met,
it remains.

A year later,
I am still
holding
onto that last breath,
holding also
onto you.

Your tear-filled
crystal, baby-blue eyes
peer up into my green,
as you rest again,
next to me,
heartbeat to heartbeat.

I will hold you
this way
forever,
even if
you are not in my arms.

That breath
that was taken
when you breathed the first time
may never return,
for fear
I will wake from
my life's dream
come true

Get a grip on it.

For the past few weeks, I've been feeling a little more overwhelmed and stressed out than usual. Part of it is being exhausted, I think. Spencer hasn't slept through the night in WEEKS, which is so odd, and somewhat frustrating at night, considering he had been for well over a month up until he started cutting his teeth, and then it's just been back to the old ways, up at least once a night, sometimes up to four times. Ack!

I think that having Jesse and Sam move also didn't help, but I am much more at peace with them being gone now. I definitely miss them, though, that's for sure. They've only been gone a full week! How crazy is that? It feels like weeks have gone by since I said goodbye to them at the airport. I think the fact that they both got cell phones right away, and a mailing address, helps. I've been able to at least correspond with them every day, and on Wednesday of this last week, we had a family Skype date! Jesse and Samantha in Alaska video chatting with Spencer, Jake, and I in South Dakota! It REALLY helps bridge the distance. We're going to have another date tomorrow afternoon. Hopefully, I'll be more awake this time (so will Spencer, less crabby, I'm thinkign). I already sent them two letters, and received one. And, it's barely over two months until we get to be in the same room as them again! So, yes, I'm feeling better about them being so far away, though, I do miss them dearly. It's very different without them being a part of my evening plans during the week!

Lately, I've also really been missing my brother, Bryan, who is in Kuwait. He called over a week ago, and I didn't get to answer, so I didn't get to talk to him. I have his voicemail still saved, thankfully, so I can listen to it when I'm thinking about him. I'm praying constantly that he's safe!

Fortunately, though, I have been able to spend multiple nights in the past week with my darling cousin and best friend, Tarah (yes, I have about 7 best friends, and I think that is totally okay). She's helped me battle the loneliness and stress by just being around, helping me with Spencer so I'm not frazzled when he's screaming at me because he wants a bath and I'm in the middle of something, for example. I've also got an amazing husband, who holds me when I need it, and tries his best to make my every day wonderful. He loves me. And that's awesome. And I have many other friends, too, who will listen when I need it.

I must say, I am also really blessed with the church family that we've become a part of. I know I have many friends there who are always willing to say a little prayer!

Spencer and I have spent about 3.5 hours at parks over the last two days, covered in dirt, sand, and fresh air. It's been wonderful. I LOVE how he gets excited to walk barefoot in the sand and leads me quickly around in circles. I always wonder where he's taking me, and it's usually... nowhere in particular. But it's fun. He loves throwing sand and getting it in his hair. For now, that's okay. We'll work on it when he's older.

Enough babble. Time for SJ's bath.

So many thoughts, so few words.

Do you ever have so much on your mind that it's hard to put your thoughts to words?

The past few days, that's how I feel.

My sisters left on Sunday, after a wonderful day visit with my father and his girlfriend. I was sad to see them go, but Monday was the sadder day, when I arrived home from work and the house was empty. They weren't here to greet Spencer and I. I miss them already.

I've been thinking about poetry lately, again, and how I haven't written any in ages. Perhaps my poetry has turned to prose, which is modeled solely after my personal thoughts and reflections on my blog. I guess that should be more acceptable to me than it is.

There is so much evil in the world today. On Sunday, a friend told me of a little boy, seven years of age, who was decapitated in Louisiana. The mother's boyfriend apparently confessed to the slaughter. As I updated my knowledge on the story, apparently to agitate my emotions more, or something, I read further that the evil man did it because he'd gotten tired of taking care of the boy, who was wheelchair bound, among other difficulties, and left the head on the sidewalk for his mother to see. Of course, I broke down sobbing for the poor child. I just cannot wrap my head around the vile act, though, of course, I don't really want to.

Then, I further began thinking about how some people in my life are just mean and spiteful. I wish that I, and the rest of my dear friends and family, could avoid them. I don't feel like anyone should be put through some of the things that they are, especially when it's from someone that "loves" them, so to speak. It just blows my mind, and makes my blood pressure boil.

I'm trying to be positive, but not looking forward to the end of the week, when one of my new, but very best friends, and my brother-in-law, leave early in the morning for a new life in Alaska. I know I'll see them both for Spencer's birthday, but beyond that, there's no saying when we'll be in each other's geographical presence again. Yes, we'll have Skype, email, Facebook, text, phonecalls, and letters, but they never truly replace the act of being in the same room.

But, with all the garbage, there's good surrounding us all, too. Sometimes, the smallest gestures are an incredible sign of compassion and love. It's amazing. For example, I'd wanted a hamburger since Saturday night when I picked up Jake from work. Yesterday evening, I still wanted one, and randomly posted it on Facebook (as I do many off-the-wall thoughts), and some dear friends from across town had a hamburger left. He even drove it to our house so I could enjoy it! What a wonderful, spunky, blessing!

And of course, I cannot forget to mention how absolutely amazing Jake is for me. The past week or so, I have been exceptionally exhausted and emotional, and in the middle of the night, more than once, when it wasn't even his "shift," he willingly awoke to change Spencer's diaper and put him back to sleep. I know he loves me. I don't deserve it.

There's more, I'm sure, but I would really like to cuddle up with our beagle (who has been naughty lately (and turned 5 yesterday)) and relax a bit before actually going to bed.

Let's Just Be Honest...

...sometimes, I'm an emotional basketcase.

Lately, a lot more than normal, it seems, but I might be mistaken. I guess I don't keep a log of how many times I cry.

The past week or so, I just have been weeping easily, more frequently than normal it seems (no, I am not pregnant for those who automatically associate emotions with pregnancy).

My brother deployed for Kuwait. I bawled myself to sleep.

I was having issues with low self-esteem and symptoms of my PCOS. I bawled myself to sleep.

One of my best friends (and she's a new friend, which makes it harder, I think) is moving to Alaska in less than a month. And, to top it off, Jake's twin is moving too! I cried and then fought back tears and then cried some more. Happy for both of them, but it's going to be a huge change to have them both gone.

I didn't have much alone time the past few weeks. I cried hard about it.

I was feeling super sick with a sinus infection yesterday and had to deal with Spencer teething. I cried multiple times.

And then.. the kicker. Spencer is getting teeth.

While that's a super-exciting-happy-milestone in babyland, it also send me into a fit of tears and sobs one night as I lay in bed next to Jake. He asked "what's wrong?" I broke down instantaneously and replied, sobbing heavily, "I don't want Spencer to get teeth!"

Why? It seems so strange and silly, but it makes sense. As I explained to him, the appearance of teeth means "goodbye, toothless baby-grin. hello, toddler-mouth."

Yeah, I associate, in my heart, his teeth with the absence of baby-hood. Granted, he's still a baby, but once those teeth come in fully, he'll look so much older. He's got more hair than many babies I know, and has for quite some time. He's very tall. He looks much older than he is without teeth, and with teeth, well... I don't want people asking how old he is and when I tell them "9 months" they say, "he looks so much older!"

I WANT HIM TO BE A BABY LONGER.

DANGIT, why can't time stand still, just for a while?! Seriously.

You hear all the time from experienced parents who say "time really flies by" and other variations of that. And I knew it, but I just didn't... feel it to my core.. like I did the other night. Time goes WAY TOO FAST. He is almost ONE! WHAT?!

ACK. Okay, time to go before I get emotional again. Haha.

Juror.

Wow, two blog posts in one night!

Normally, I don't blog about current events and matters in the media, but today, well, by golly, I am about to.

But, not in a way that you might think. No, it's not going to be a "I agree/disagree" post.

Yes, it is about the Casey Anthony trial. (I think that's how you spell her first name.)

I have to admit, I've only followed bits and pieces of the story since it happened. I remember it happening way back when, and hearing about it quite a bit, and then not hearing about it as much anymore. Coupled with the fact that we haven't had cable television in quite some time, and I usually don't have an impulse to read the news (sadly), well, I am not all "up on current events," as you might say.

However, I did get sucked right into the news coverage this afternoon as I heard the verdict was soon to be announced. I was covered in goosebumps as the silence on the screen enveloped everyone watching. And, as the "not guilty" charges were read, my jaw dropped, hand covering the shocked expression, and I found myself thinking the jurors were crazy for not charging her with the murder of her daughter.

Yup, I will admit it, initially, my reaction was "SHE IS SOOOOO guilty!"

It didn't take long for me to start questioning the ramification of a not-guilty sentence. Would she become famous now? Make millions writing a book? She sure looked happy. Would I have been?

Yes and no. Yes, if I was not guilty (and I would be RIGHTLY not guilty, mind you, like I would kill anyone, heck, I hate killing animals), I'd be happy. But, I don't know that I'd be so elated... knowing that my DAUGHTER WAS STILL DEAD.

Yeah. Dead. My baby. DEAD.

The thought makes me physically sick. I sat there thinking I might throw up all over the place.

And then, I wondered... "so, if people just keep changing their story, no one would EVER really know the truth, so how could they be found guilty?"

Blah.

Fast forward, tonight I'm sitting here.. thinking about it again as I see all these posts and what not flaring up on Facebook once again. And I found myself, again, initially thinking, "ugh, she is guilty."

But then almost immediately, I got to thinking, "but who am I to think that?"

I mean really. It's not my call. Not only was I not there when it happened, but I was not a juror, and I certainly haven't been well-informed on the case.

But more than that, who am I to decide? The murderer knows. God knows. He'll deal with it.

Just like he'll deal with the baby girl whose life was taken... as he wraps his arms around her and allows her to live with him, side-by-side, for all eternity, alongside the thousands of other innocent children who passed away all too soon.

Furthermore, I began thinking about how I truly hope I NEVER am called to be a juror. I mean, maybe I wouldn't have such a qualm with petty court matters like parking tickets, but seriously... having to decide someone's fate like that? I couldn't do it. I just couldn't. I think I'd be physically sick the entire time. Especially in a trial like the one that ended on national television today.

Just a disclaimer: in no way is this post supposed to imply that we should not gave a jurored court system. It simply is to state I hope never to be a part of it.

Various Topics

As you may know (if you're a follower of my blog), I had a cystectomy on my tail bone in March. It was not a joyous experience, but it wasn't as bad as I imagined either.

Post-surgery, I thought I was very well-behaved, taking it easy for about a week, doing not much of anything (thanks to my amazing husband who was daddy, mommy, housewife, and provider all week), and then light activity for a few weeks after. I went for a few post-op visits and everything "appeared" to be fine.

So, I was disgraced and saddened when I realized that, in fact, it was not healing properly. I've been back to the surgeon a few times, and up until this past week, he didn't seem very concerned, which annoyed me and my husband. Following this last appointment, he verified that the incision site isn't really healing that well. In fact, as gruesome as this sounds, there's a hole in it. Sweet. NO wonder it's been uncomfortable and painful, among other things, ever since. So, he gave us a few instructions to helpfully help it actually heal, and I go back in a month or so.

--

Lately, our little family is less financially stable than we used to be. I've been blaming myself for this a lot, especially since I make much less doing in-home daycare than I did doing center-based daycare, which was also less than teaching preschool, which was definitely less than social/community work. Ah!

--

Today, I took Spencer to the park, by myself. He and I have been to the park with Jake or Jillian and the daycare kids before, but never alone. It was a wonderful experience! I had him in the baby swing, and got to talking to another mommy there, whose baby is just three days older than Spencer. So we were comparing stories and stuff. It was pretty cool. He used the swing, then one of those bouncy/rocking sit-on toys (a duck, actually) until he bonked his face on the handlebars (I was holding him, and he still did it... whoops), and then we went on the play equiptment and played with the tic-tac-toe board thing for a while, and then back to the swing, together, then the toddler swing, then the baby swing. Then we played in the grass with toys. It hit me, while playing in the grass, that I was AT THE PARK with my BABY. I'd spent years driving or walking by parks and seeing mommies and their babies and children and I would just pray that some day I would get to take my baby to a park. And I WAS AT THE PARK WITH MY BABY. I almost started sobbing pure joy. It was overwhelming. I didn't have to wish anymore, I was living that dream! Ah! Pure bliss!

Then we went for an hour long walk, and came back and sat on the step with the dog watching the cars go by. Both Spencer and the dog like cars.

--

Spencer surprised me today and scooted five or so feet on his bottom and got the dog food bag. Didn't eat any, but was sure excited about his find.

--

My brother, who is 19 now, but my youngest brother, is in the National Guard. Right now, he's training in MN to be deployed to Kuwait for a month, followed by Iraq for a year. The send-off celebration is this coming Friday, in Minnesota. I don't know how to prepare myself, emotionally and mentally, for the event. I try not to think about it too much. It's funny though, because I'm not really scared he will die overseas... but that the events will change him and we won't know him like we do now. He's one of the most easy-going, funny guys I know, and I don't want him to lose that part of himself. I know he'll change, but I hope he comes back and we still know him, if that makes sense. Of course, I'm also concerned for his safety, but I trust that God will be watching over him.

Another thing that gets me about the entire situation is that, with the exception of a short pass in July that I just found out he'll have, before actually being deployed, I will not see him for over a year. In a year's time, Spencer will be walking (I assume) and talking (a bit, hopefully), and be a little boy, not just a baby. He'll be nothing like Bryan knows of him now. That's crazy! And you never know, there's always a chance that Spencer would have a sibling on the way by the time he comes back. He was in training/camp this fall when Spencer was born... and it's just... hard to wrap my mind around, I guess.

--

Anyway, the movie "Seven Pounds" is playing in the living room, and I should get to watching it, because it is almost to the area in which I fell asleep watching it last night (sorry about that, Jake, I had no idea I was so tired).

She used to write poetry... and take fine art photographs...

Last night, I wrote a post about how I used to play guitar and vowed that I would bring that back into my life.

Tonight, I was sitting on the computer, browsing a friend's etsy shop (which I happen to adore and hope to own an item from someday) when I also happened upon a list of that friends' etsy favorites, which included photographs of coffee. (I think that was a complete sentence...)

That made me realize that it's been quite a long time since I've picked up my camera to take a "fine art photograph," or photograph of anything that wasn't my son or other family member.

I used to do that frequently (read: I had a project 365 for over a year straight, until I found out I was pregnant, actually, and I stopped that day), and I would sell them online in my own etsy shop.

Once, I had someone from a college in Tennessee (I forget which one, which is kind of embarassing, because the entire event was a big deal to me) tell me that she wanted one of my images in her curated show in a local art gallery! One of my biggest dreams had been to be featured in an art gallery somewhere!

Anyway.... Photographing "fine art..." I did it mostly for fun, however, and with the "crazy" idea that someday I would have my own art gallery in my home. Not to sell or anything of that nature, just to display some of my favorite photographs.

I loved taking photos. Heck, I still do, my focus just has, undoubtedly, changed from "art" to photos of my adorable (yes, I'm biased) son.

But that doesn't mean that desire isn't still there. I still have some photos for sale on an etsy shop, but I haven't really done any marketing to find an audience. Part of me doesn't have any interest in selling it, but then again, the other part of me does.

Tonight, on facebook, I commented how I miss taking fine art photographs. A few friends told me that they'd buy my art, or display it, which was great to hear, I won't lie. This then lead to someone commenting on how I should publish a photography book.

That had been one of my dreams as well. I guess it still is, I just haven't focused on it at all since Spencer's arrival. I have always wanted a book of my work published.

Then, I remembered I used to write poetry. I had over 200, maybe three hundred, poems written and published on a long-deceased geocities website. Fortunately, I had a crazy whim once to make sure to save them all and made two copies of the entire "works," one for my high school German teacher, mentor, and friend, Frau. The other, I gave to my boyfriend at the time (who is now my husband). When geocities had their demise, the website was surely lost, but luckily, these works are around somewhere. Jake says he still has it, and I know Frau does, because she let my little sister read them at school, or something to that effect.

I miss writing poetry. I haven't done that in YEARS. I don't know why. It's not like my love of language has faded, nor have I really lost my words. I guess I should probably find a spark inside of me and get that going, too.

What does poetry have to do with anything, you might be wondering? Well, I had the idea that maybe I'd put poetry with my photography, and have the two mesh, somehow.

Maybe. I guess we'll see.

The photos in this post are a few of my personal collection. Be a pal, and don't steal them.

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!

Pinch me. Am I dreaming?

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

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

But it's my blog.

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

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

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

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

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

I digress.

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

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

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

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

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

On the corner.

Today, as I was leaving Wal-Mart after a trip there to get dryer sheets (seeing as how I lost the ones I purchased on Saturday before I even got to use them) and an exersaucer (because the used ones I've found are just about as expensive as a new one), I pulled up to a stop sign, where an elderly man was standing with a cardboard sign.

It read, "Trying to get HOME. Anything will help for my bus tickets."

Despite the four vehicles behind me, I put the truck in park and rolled down the passenger window, and stuck my hand in my pocket, pulling out a small wad of dollar bills that I had been carrying around for about a week.

He looked at me kind of quizzically at first, and came up to the window. I handed him the cash and he nodded at me.

He proceeded to tell me that he is trying to head 'home' to Montana, to surprise a son he hasn't seen in many years. He wants to make amends since he is turning his life around, but has no job, no car, and no money. He said nothing about whether he was homeless or not, so I do not know.

I felt peaceful giving him the money. I had no apprehension. In fact, I felt completely compelled to give it to him.

As he walked away, he told me "I pray that God blesses you."

I smiled at him and said, "Same to you."

I feel like he was telling me a truthful story. Who am I to judge and say that he wasn't? I know there are many out there who would criticize me for giving money, saying "oh, he'll just buy booze or drugs." Well, pfft to you. You don't know that either.