The Best Days of My Life

These are the best days of your life, they say. 

And I wholeheartedly agree.

Except for those single years.  When I was free to run up and down mountains, have quiet moments, laugh with roommates late into the night, play my guitar and travel the world -- sharing the love of God with anyone I met.  Singing and playing piano on continents I learned of in Social Studies.  I knew God was going to use me for good, confident in the depths of His love.  The confirmation that somehow, my life would be forever involved in full-time ministry, was solidified. I went wherever my heart desired.  I knew nothing of fear.

My young self, in India.

Those were some good days.

Or the good days of finding the love of my life.  Staying up late, watching movies, building our repertoire of inside jokes, sharing our hearts, eating Mac 'N Cheese, saying 'I do' after 3 months of dating, while surrounded with amazing kids who were the best youth group kids we had yet to meet.  Hours and hours and days and days of worship  and teaching in youth ministry together.  Our calling to work in ministry together was a blessing.

Married!

Those were good days.  Really good.

Then, I think about putting all our earthly possessions in storage and entering the mission field around our two year wedding anniversary.  Oh, the things we learned, the countries we experienced and the lives that were impacted.  Ours changed the most.  Stretched in our inmost beings, we put "our" lives on hold.  Instead of biological children like all of our friends back home, we had orphans.  Instead of possessions, we lived in community, sharing all.  Instead of starting a savings account and building up a nest egg, we prayed for donations of simple things, like, tooth paste.  Our prayers ALWAYS answered.  Our lives forever ruined for the ordinary.  We will NEVER be the same again, thank God.

In Afghanistan, trying to make some wool.  Fail.

Difficult, soul-testing, heart-aching days, but really, really, really good days.

But these days?  I live in America, something I didn't want to do nor did I think I could ever do, without sinking into a materialistic, complacent, depressive lifestyle, because I had never met an American that didn't fall into one of those categories, if not all.  I've got my three best friends by my side.  I'm surrounded by a runny nose, cracker crumbs under my feet, fingerprints on everything sacred, newborn poop stains on all clothing, and crying that is volleyed between my two littles.  In some ways, I have settled, which is frustrating to me, but I know I need to enjoy this time.  I take turns with my faithful man, juggling what life is now.  Chubby wrists, pursed lips (that beg for kisses), two little minds begging for knowledge, 'neck hugs' and smiles just because I'm Mama.

Naptime with my sweet littles.

These really are the best days of my life. 

And I can hardly wait to see, in the years to come, how the best gets even better.

Wordless Wednesday: At the Zoo with Daddy

Enthralled with the chimpanzees at the zoo!

Wordless Wednesday: Happy Easter!

What it's like to have adopted siblings

I'm the oldest of 13 children.

Yes, 13.

We're not all blood-related, but we are siblings, whose love runs deep.  I've been asked a lot to share what it's like to have so many siblings, and so many siblings who are adopted.  In real life, I talk about my family all the time, but I guess it's so every day to me, that I haven't addressed it on my blog much.  But November is also National Adoption Month, so this is a perfect time to talk about adoption and my life.

Like I said, not only have my parents adopted, but my sister has also adopted as well. 

In certain areas of the United States, adoption may seem to be the trendy, happening thing.  Countless families that I know have signed up to add children to their families that don't share the same DNA as them.  It's a wonderful thing, not without its struggles or controversies, but full of blessings as well.

I grew up with one biological sister.  Vacations, private school, social events, going out to eat; a comfortable life.   When I was 20 years old and my younger sister had just graduated high school at 18, my parents adopted a sibling set of three sisters. 

My parents gave up the next-to-retirement life, to love and care for three beautiful girls.  My husband and I helped out taking my little sisters on dates, having sleepovers, and going shopping.  Within months, life became normal for me as I accepted that I now had four sisters.

A couple of years later, my parents, who realized they were in this for the long haul and had the means and love in their hearts, found room for another sibling set of six.  Two boys and four girls. 

Overnight, our family more than doubled.  Dallas and I were doing mission work at this time, so we only got to meet 'the new kids' on a trip home, but from what I've heard, this was a pretty chaotic time! 

Things slowly settled and life took a new groove for my family.  Grocery shopping now meant my Mom had to bring 9 kids, 8 of them under the age of 8, into the store with her.  It meant a new vehicle, with a special seat installed so everyone could fit.  Everything was done in mass quantities.  Trips to Sam's Club meant a trailer was pulled so they could fit everything in it.

What was weird to everyone else, became natural to them. 

A few years after that, my husband and I moved back to our home state of Minnesota and I felt that I was supposed to serve alongside my Mom, as she was busy homeschooling all the kids, cleaning house, making meals and juggling appointments and activities for the nine kids still at home.  My time working at my parent's house was amazing!  Not without its hair-pulling moments, but it was great to get to know my newest siblings.

Just when we all (and my parents as well) thought their family was complete, they began the adoption porcess again.  This path led them to two biological sisters who soon joined our family, making the number of children in my parent's brood grow to a baker's dozen. 

People ask me what it's like to have such an age gap between me, the oldest at 30, and my sister, the youngest at six.  I guess it's not too weird now because I'm used to it.  While I am their older sister, I did spend a lot of time working for my parents so my siblings know they must also respect and listen to me.  In that way, I'm kind of maybe looked at as a really close aunt.  With that, I'm highly protective of them.

Another question I've been asked is if I feel like they are my siblings and am I close to them.  Some would take offense to this question, but it's a logical question.  Yes, they are my siblings through and through.  I would do anything for them.  I CANNOT IMAGINE MY LIFE WITHOUT THEM!  Seriously.  I can barely remember what it was like with just one biological sister.  It seems like another life, another family, another person.  I can barely remember what it was like without the youngest two girls that joined our family about 18 months ago!   Sure, I am closer to my biological sister, but that's because we are not only experiencing the same things in life right now (marriage, family, age), but we've also spent years developing our relationship. 

Sometimes I see my friends out with their moms, getting massages or having lunch or shopping for clothes for their kids, and I get a little sad because my mom and I can't do that.   My mom can't just come to my house and watch my baby.  We can't just meet at Target and browse the aisles together.  We can't go on a cruise with my parents.  I can't always call my Mom whenever I want and chat for hours, because my younger sibling's attention span wouldn't last for more than 5 minutes. I can't have those "normal" things with my parents. But I'm not sad about it; its just how it is.

So yes, I don't get all the things that some of my friends get with their moms, but my friends don't get 12 brothers and sisters, of all races, size, age and personality to call their siblings.  No one else has sisters with the nicknames of Nena, Pita Pumpkin, MarMar, Maymer, Beaner, Squishy or Breahna-Jahna.  No one else has 10 kids race to their car when they arrive at their parents house, give you a huge hug and beg to take their daughter out of her car seat. 

No one else gets to watch 11 lives, all broken and hurt, be transformed and nourished in a Forever Family. 

I'll give up lunch dates and mindless house decorating talk and wasted monies spent on vacations with my parents for just a day where "these kids", my siblings, are safe, loved and taken care of.

Have you considered adoption?  Do you have any other questions for me?

If you see a zombie mom...

*this was written on Monday, but in my zombieness I didn't get this published until today, Tuesday*

If you see a zombie mom, that'd be me.  Yep, hi there, I'm sleep deprived! 

And if you see a zombie dad, that's be my husband.  He says hello.

Forgoodnesssake, you'd think we had a newborn baby in our house, but no, we're actually the parents of an almost 15 month old little girl.  She's super cute.  Really, she is. 

She's also getting her molars, which makes for interesting sleep.

On top of that, we decided that since she's teething this would be an awesome time (sarcasm font) to see if she would possibly take a bottle in the middle of the night from her Dad, instead of me breastfeeding her. 

"What a horrible idea!" you say.  And I know that.

But see, it's actually a good idea because we're trying to get away for a night or two for our 10 year wedding anniversary coming up in a little over a week.  In order for us to 'get away', we need to leave our daughter overnight with someone else.  She still sometimes wakes in the night to nurse, so we wanted to see how she'd fare with a bottle at 5 AM from this someone else. 

Let's just say it wasn't good. 

I "slept" on the couch last night, while Dallas got our bed all to himself, something he probably enjoys because even though he is the largest member of our family, when the smallest member of our family joins us in bed at night, she takes up half of it because she insists on sleeping sideways.  She also insists on kicking him in the face (which, is hilarious), so a night with the bed all to himself is almost as grand as the Vikings winning a football game.  Obviously, neither happen very often.

This picture accurately depicts the average husband/wife bed....

And then you throw the kicking face toddler in there and it actually looks like this...

His lone enjoyment of our bed lasted for, um, maybe 15 minutes when the baby started crying way earlier than her normal middle of the night waking time.  Of course, my Mom Alert, which can standard with the growth of my uterus, kicked in and I laid silently on the couch, listening to the lil' drama mama in the room next door.  I really, really, really just wanted to solve the problem with my b00b...like, Hello!  I have the answer!  We can ALL be happy again! 

But I stayed out of sight on the living room couch.

The good news is that she did take the bottle.  The bad news is that she screamed for two hours before, after and during, resulting in zombie mom and zombie dad.

I guess this could quite possibly be called a 'real parent' now that we're finally experiencing some sleep deprivation.  We've been spoiled rotten and she's always been a great sleeper, so we actually got more sleep during the newborn stage of parenting than ever before in our lives!

I do have to give major props to Zombie Dad; two hours of a screaming 14-month old in the middle of the night is really equal to about 8 hours of sceaming baby in the daytime.  Yep, in the realm of parenting, nighttime woes are quadrupled.  My husband gets major points for last night for dancing with her, singing to her, cuddling her, bobbling her around and just all around loving the little zombie creator who did nothing but scream at the sight of him. 

We're going to try it again tonight, but so far the jury in our house is saying that it looks like India might join us for our anniversary trip because we definitely don't want this zombie-ness to consume another family member!  ;-)

Stay tuned for more Zombie Mom and Zombie Dad....

Wordless Wednesday: Happy 1st Birthday to my beautiful niece!

love.serve.pickweeds.lockyourbabyinoffice

We just finished our 4th annual mission trip to our town.  This week is always a lot of work for all of us, but it is a super rewarding week, for our students and the hundreds of others we serve throughout the week.

Our youth group joined with another youth group, totaling about 60 of us, as we converged on our community, doing any and every type of service project that was needed.  In the evening, we all join together after a hard days work and worship together and hear from a speaker. 

It's an amazing week, filled with sweat, laughs and honest moments before God.  Many teens not only find purpose in serving hundreds of others others with love, but are renewed in their faith and calling. 

Some of the kids on the bus.  From one project to the next!

It was an incredible week for the students.  Some said it was the best week of their lives. 

It was sort of a tough week for our family.  Dallas' back went out, which isn't a good thing when you're doing manual labor and helping manage so many people.  He didn't have the time to rest and try to recover from his injury so unfortunately, he is still in a lot of pain.

India joined us for as much of the trip as possible. 

Helping pick (or maybe eat) weeds

She was a bit overwhelmed with all the kids who loved her so much, and I had a bit of personal struggle as I wanted to be serving alongside the kids AND take care of India, but I'm not superwoman, and I normally had to choose one or the other. 

In the ERGO as we clear brush

She was a trooper, even though she had several traumatic moments like...

...when she got locked in Dallas' office, which was a very brief, but emotionally charged event.  I thought Dallas was watching her, Dallas thought I was watching her.  I came back to the office and the door was shut and locked.  Mothering fail.

My baby was crying. 

I ran to find Dallas to ask for his keys, but they were locked in the office, with my keys, both of our phones and now a screaming baby.  I had to keep myself calm, even though every bit of me wanted to hyperventilate, cry, or bust down the door and rescue my baby!

Almost as quickly as it all started, my clear-minded husband had made a couple of phone calls, and a man from our church arrived with his key and unlocked the door.  I wiped India's tears, helped her calm down, and held her so tight. 

In spite of whatever personal hiccups we encountered, all of the youth did such a great job and I am so proud of them!  I loved them before, but I love them even more now. 

No matter the pain I saw my husband in, or how I felt pulled in two directions, it was worth it!  I'd do it all over again in a heartbeat!  I just want to bypass the whole locking your tired, hungry, overstimulated baby in the office thing! ;)

A ginormous sheet, in which after a time of prayer, the kids wrote what their callings were...VERY moving!

Mission 2012?  Most definitely!

What a craptastic day.

I had a most divine day yesterday.  I did. 

Although it was filled with appointments and teaching piano lessons, which were great and uneventful, my day ended with a GNO.

A girls night out.  Good food, good drinks, good laughs.

I'm not huge on 'I need to get out of the house to keep my sanity' because mostly, I'd rather stay home with my husband and baby and cuddle and talk and watch PBS.   The only thing that could make me seem more boring than that is if you put some embroidery floos in my hands (no offense to my most excellent embroiderer friends-I'm inspired by your work).

Last night while out with my girls, I realized that it is good for me to talk with other moms and hear what's going on in their lives.  We also like to talk about other non-momish things.  I love my girlfriends, and after a night with them, I always feel encouraged and refreshed.

I guess that all of yesterday's good was preparing me for today's not so good, but not horrible, day.

I was stockpiling goodness.  I probably should've stockpiled some more.

Today, I spent all morning running around the house, cleaning, doing dishes and laundry and taking care of a little girl named India. 

This little girl named India, started to go to the bathroom, so I quickly took off her pants and diaper and rushed her to the toilet to do her business.  I use a thin, flushable liner to catch her poo.  If she happens to poop in her diaper, I just take it off and flush it down the toilet.  No rinsing the diaper.  Easy peasy.  And most of the time, she comes to me, starts pooping a little, and I get her to the toilet, where she does her duty, and we have no mess. 

After she is done, I put the disposable liner in the toilet, flush and put on a new diaper and liner. 

I did all that, except the flushing the toilet part. 

We went back to playing, when I noticed she had to go again.  Quickly, I ran her to the toilet.  While I was trying to set her on the toilet, I was juggling the poopy diaper in my other hand...and it wasn't firm by any means, if you know what I mean. 

Wiggling 9 month old with a poopy butt in one arm, Mama with fresh clean clothes on and nasty diaper in the other hand.

Ooooh, you know this is going to be bad.

Because of my multi-tasking, I was totally deserving of having that diaper not only fall and slide it's way down my pant leg, but through the course of trying to avoid it, it landed on my nice, fuzzy slippers and I then smooshed it all over the bathroom floor.

Yuck.  After she was finished on the potty, I tossed the liner in the toilet, and was so quick to get the shitake off me that I rushed to change her and me, and forgot to flush.  Again.

I had already started the laundry, so I had to do another load, with just my pants and slippers.

Sigh.  This day had started pretty stinky in every way.

We had it set up that while I was teaching piano lessons and Dallas was officiating baseball this afternoon, India's grandma Shelly would babysit her.  Unfortunately, Grandma Shelly had to cancel due to illness.  India's never had a non-family babysitter, but I called my neighbor to see if her daughter could come over once she was finished with school.  She said yes. 

Babysitter crisis averted.

Next, I get a phone call from a number I know, expecting it to be someone I really like talking with.  Instead, it's someone that I don't enjoy listening to, so I was a little peeved that I was 'tricked' into answering.  There was a miscommunication between us, we went around on the issue for a while, and I was already feeling feisty, but I held my tongue.

Whew.  At least I didn't make a mess with that one.

About 25 minutes before one of my afternoon students was going to come, I went into the bathroom to brush my hair and put on a little makeup (maybe for the first time today), and I noticed that I hadn't flushed the toilet after India had gone to the bathroom. 

So I flushed.

And apparently, putting two disposable liners in the toilet is a bad, bad, bad idea.  Like, plug the toilet bad.


The water rose pretty high, but it was contained.  I went to change the laundry (remember my poopy slippers?) and came back to a poo-water flooded bathroom.

In just 5 minutes. 

Enter choice words.  I think I literally said, "oh shit"!

Just callin' it what it is.

Apparently, the toilet had been running.  I would stop it, then it would start again, flooding the bathroom even more.

India was as curious as all get out, and threw a complete tantrum when I made her sit in her least favorite spot, her exersaucer.  All she wanted to do was play in the water.

I threw every rag and junk towel that we own onto the bathroom floor. 

Then I decided to flush again.  And again. 

And oops. 

It was a disaster zone.  Less than 20 minutes before my piano student was coming. 

Screaming child.  Mama with no makeup.  Poowater bathroom.  Second pair of slippers full of diluted poo-ness.

In between leaving play by plays on Dallas' voicemail and trying to comfort India I noticed my piano student had arrived - early!  I quickly closed the bathroom door, and started piano lessons.

Lessons went good, and India's babysitter was great too.

As soon as lessons were over, back to the bathroom I went, sloshing up cold poowater with rags while thinking, "There has got to be a better way to do this!  Like, maybe some fuel and a torch"!

And here I sit, writing, eating barbeque potato chips as my dinner, waiting for my poor knight in shining armor to come home, to a nasty bathroom, in a couple of hours after officiating a double header and working over 12 hours yet again today.

And maybe dreaming that is was still yesterday and I was out eating yummy food with my cute girlfriends.  

Was my day that awful?  No, there was lots of great parts to it and I've had worse.  But it sure did make me laugh and say, this day surely was craptastic, in the literal sense of the word!

Now, excuse me, I'm off to find a working bathroom!

All the things a SAHM should do!

I'm pretty much a SAHM (stay at home mom) and I LOVE it.  I do work, teaching piano lessons from my home and I help my mom about one day a week, but mostly, I'm home.

I had a lot of ideas of what it was going to be like to be home most hours of the day.  I thought about all the tasks I would accomplish and all the free time I would have.  Ahhhhh, what a luxurious life!

What??? You're laughing???  Pshh.

Here is a list of things I was going to do in all my spare time as a SAHM, and behind them is my list of accomplishments related to them. You'll see I've done real well.

- Clean my house. Everyday. Oh, it was going to be SO clean. Mopped floors, dusted baseboards, no cobwebs. (Ha! The dishes get done. Most days. Maybe more like every other day.)

- Bake scones, souffle, creme brulee and other fancy things that include cranberries, white chocolate and poached pears.  All things my friend Annalise does with two babies! (I'm still working on box brownies thankyouverymuch.)

- Or I was at least going to bake cookies. (Grocer's refrigerator section, frozen cookie dough. Yes and amen.)

- Drink tea, burn incense and worship God.  In my long hippie skirt, of course. (Does wearing my nursing pajamas while crying, "please God, help me with this crying baby" count?)

- Paint my bathroom. (No. It has to be cleaned first.)

- Bake treats for my piano students every other week or so. (I'm just glad I make it to piano lessons, dressed, mind you.)

- Visit and talk with my friends, Carma and Devora. (Hi, ladies. How ya doing?)

- Walk with my friend, April. (Yeah....)

- Play piano and sing with my friend Beth. (Beth and I did that. In 2009. Oh yeah, that was pre-India.)

- Go to the Y and workout.  Everyday.  With Jen, Beth and now Tami. (One time I did this!!)

- I was going to garden with my friend/neighbor Jessica. And probably look at interior decorating magazines with her. (I wave to her across the street as we come and go.)

- Make homemade bread. (The only bread we are eating is pre-sliced from a plastic bag.)

- Make lots more homemade food for that matter. (I have perfected "fancy" Mac N Cheese.  Mac N Cheese with lemon pepper.)

- Re-finish my kitchen table. (Tablecloth.)

- Sew curtains for our house, and toys and accessories for India. (Peeping toms are welcome. As are store bought toys.)

- Garden, garden, garden. (It's winter.  Sheesh, people.  I have HUGE plans for spring! You just wait!)

- Play piano, guitar and bass guitar. (I play piano. Have for years. Still playing the same songs I played years ago too.)

- Sell all my crap on eBay. (I have nothing to report on this.  I have however, bought a few things on eBay.)

- Do exercises videos while my baby plays alone on a blanket. (hahaha, "baby plays alone..." hahaha)

- Go out and shop at stores.  (If I was dressed, I would do this.)

- Look smokin' hot, nicely perfumed, dressed in an apron everyday when my husband came home to the smell of fresh baked cookies or bread.  Or creme brulee.  (Most days my glasses are still on as well as yesterday's smudged make-up. I also still smell of yesterday's spit-up.)

- Do my hair and make up everyday. (Does yesterday's make-up count?)

- Get dressed. Everyday.  In real clothes. (Pajamas.)

As you can see, I haven't been very productive as far as that list is concerned.  I guess didn't know that taking care of a baby would demand more time from me than when I worked before India was born. 

She wakes up from a nap, diaper change, time to nurse/check Facebook, puke on clothes, change clothes, start laundry, play, send an e-mail, eat a little bit of cold food(me), baby gets a hold of food and spills it everywhere, clean up spilled food, baby falls down, calm crying baby who bumped her head, put baby in carrier, begin dinner prep only to realize you don't have milk, google "milk replacement" and get sucked into a vegan website, answer phone, entertain baby, put clothes in the dryer, diaper explosion, diaper change, shush baby to sleep, clean up poo-splosion, baby prematurely wakes crying, shush her back to sleep, fold laundry, finish eating cold food, work on blog, start more laundry, baby wakes. I didn't even get to start on dinner, the dishes, the bills, or get the bathroom cleaned.  Repeat every 2-4 hours. 

Forget about souffle.  I just have my eyes set on a shower!

Ahhhhh, just think of all the time I'll have once I have a second baby and they can entertain each other.  I'll be free!  Yep, I'll save this list for then. ;-)

Back to life, back to reality

We are home after Christmas, an abscessed tooth, a trip to Africa, two blizzards, my Grandpa's death, his funeral, and various other things that I can't even remember because my brain is mush right now.  I'm hoping that maybe life will begin to get back to normal soon.  My mind is tired, my body is tired, and I'm people'd out.

I spent the last couple of days in the town where my Grandparents live, at my Grandpa's visitation and funeral.  It was a tough moment walking into the funeral home just in time to walk into the area where my Grandpa's body was lying, waiting to be mourned and viewed by us.

It's never a fun thing to listen to your family members weep.

My Grandpa's visitation was busy; over 750 people came to show their love and support for my Grandpa and his family, some people waiting in line for up to two hours to see my Grandpa and greet the family.  It was a long day for all of us.

My Grandpa is loved, that is for sure, and I'm thankful for every single person who stopped by the visitation or came to the funeral.  It was great to see so many extended family members and friends of my Grandparents, all of whom I haven't seen for years.

To all of you who have sent messages, texts, called, etc, THANK YOU!  Life was too crazy there for a bit, but I plan on responding to you soon!  I just need some time right now to regroup...

During the visitation, I received word that my husband, who was returning from Ghana, Africa, was now going to be delayed over night in New York, and most likely missing my Grandpa's funeral. His flight was set to arrive too close to the funeral, and I didn't know if I'd be able to make it to the airport and back in time for the funeral.  And I wasn't willing to take that chance!  Dallas was most likely, going to be stuck at the airport most of the day. I was upset, but couldn't do much about it. 

My godparents, Jim and Shirley (my cousin Matt's parents), came to the visitation, and when they heard that Dallas was delayed, Shirley volunteered to pick him up and drive him to the funeral since she was coming anyways!  It was so nice to have Dallas there for support, as we closed my Grandpa's coffin right before we proceeded into the funeral.

Ah yes, the funeral.  It went as well as a funeral could go.  My Uncle Bruce shared some great memories of my Grandpa, and he did such a good job describing my Grandpa and his life.  It was my favorite part of the funeral.

I learned a lot of things about my Grandpa.  One of the neatest things was the fact that in 52 years of marriage, he never once took off his wedding ring, not even during surgeries!  My Grandpa didn't go around oozing love songs, but that was his way of saying 'I love you' to my Grandma.  Precious.
My sister and I sang Amazing Grace, and thankfully we made it through it without crying.  That was miraculous.

The funeral was finished with my godmother Shirley's Dad singing my Grandpa's favorite song, Pisnicka Ceska (Song of Bohemia).  While it was being sung, I could hear the older people singing the song in Czech.  It was a wonderful sound. But at the same time, it was sad, as it was also signifying the soon to be end of a generation, as none of the grand kids could even pretend to sing even one word of the beautiful song.

The burial was of course difficult, especially while Taps was played and they handed my Grandma the flag that graced my Grandpa's coffin.  We were blessed with a light sprinkling of snow as we said our final farewells to my Grandpa's mortal body. 

I think the biggest shame in all of it was my Grandpa, the one we were all there celebrating, wasn't even there to receive all that love.  I decided I'm going to have and Un-Funeral when I get old.  Everyone that loves me will be invited to say their goodbyes and take lots of pictures with me.  And we'll eat ham sandwiches.  I told my cousin Jill about my plan and she said, "well, wouldn't everyone just cry?", implying how awkward it would be.  I guess she's right, but I'd rather be celebrated while I'm alive.

Dallas and I said our goodbyes, and the three of us, tired beyond all reason, and for all different reasons, took off, longing for our home.

Dallas had an amazing time in Ghana, and love it there!  We talked the whole four hour car ride home about it!  He loved the kids there and from everything that I have heard, they loved him the same!  There is NO doubt in my mind, that he would do an excellent job!  The kids gave Dallas a djembe drum, something he has wanted for years!  It's absolutely beautiful, and means so much to him already.

I also think it was fun for him to get to know the Korum's, a wonderful family who lives there and have been family friends since way before I was born. :-)

Dallas hit the ground running, straight to my Grandpa's funeral, and went right back to work this morning, and went right back to work this morning, and the day won't be done until late as we have small group tonight.  I do admire my husband's commitment to lead and guide others, in spite of his own tiredness!  BUT, we also haven't even done our own family Christmas yet....hopefully we'll get to that on Saturday!

I'm ready for life to settle down a bit.  I'm ready for normal naps, healthy food, cloth diapers (TMI - we have the worst poo-plosions with disposables and lots of stained clothes), some down time, and most of all just time to snuggle with my two favorite people in the world!

Love you all, and congratulations if you made it to the end of this emotionally scrambled blog post!  Thank you all for your support during this time. Back to regular blogging tomorrow!

My heart hurts

My Grandpa Ellard died unexpectedly last night.  New Years Eve, 2010.  What a crappy ending to the year.

Many people wouldn't turn to their personal blog to detail their loss of someone they loved so much, but my husband is gone right now, and I hope you don't mind me working through this process in front of you.  I'm sure many of you can identify with the raging feelings of grief.

We are experiencing our second blizzard in two days, and I decided that since my husband is gone, I would get snowed in at my parents, instead of being home alone for a couple of days.  Now I'm so glad that I'm here, instead alone, dealing with all the emotions.

We had just finished supper and had talked my Dad into playing a crazy card game with all of my brothers and sisters, when my mom answered the phone and quickly gave it to my Dad.  My Dad answered and promptly left the room.  As he was leaving, my Mom said that it was my Dad's sister, Connie, and she sounded upset.

This was a very distressing moment, because I knew something was wrong.  I paced the room, trying to keep my oblivious New-Years-Eve excited siblings under control, all while feeling like I was going to vomit. I made my way to the bathroom and cried in there, then pulled myself together - after all, I didn't even know why my auntie Connie was calling.

I wanted my Dad to get off the phone so I could know what was going on, but at the same time I didn't want to know. 

My Mom said my Dad wanted to talk with me, and as I walked into my parent's bedroom, my Dad didn't say anything.

I just looked at him.  He didn't even tell me.  I knew.

And I just wanted to curl up and cry.  My whole body felt limp.

I made my way to my Daddy's lap, laid my head on his shoulder and wept as he held me. 

I apologized to my Dad over and over again that his Dad was gone.

In all the driving with my Dad yesterday, we talked quite a bit about my Grandpa, and said too bad it's a blizzard, otherwise we would've went and visited for lunch or something.  I hate this stupid blizzard even more now.

I still feel sick.  And sad and angry and frustrated and confused and filled with regret and numb and at peace and empty.

Can you feel all those things at once?  I don't know.

When I saw family members beginning to post on Facebook last night, it was comforting to know we are all feeling the pain of the loss of my grandpa - but yet it was surreal to see it in writing.

We are now beginning the preparations for my grandpa's funeral.  My Sister and I will be singing Amazing Grace.  I have dreaded this day.  Right now, I don't know how I will hold up while trying to sing in front of many people who are mourning a man we all loved.

For those of you that didn't get the opportunity, I want to tell you a little bit about my grandpa. For those of you who did know my Grandpa, I hope these sentiments will resonate in your heart as you recall him with me from his Granddaughter's perspective.

As the oldest grandchild, I spent a lot of time with my grandparents, and one of the highlights of my year was staying at my Grandparents house, all by myself, a couple times a year.  They lived about four hours away, so it was a real treat!

My Grandpa was a very tall man, with big brown eyes, and prominent features.  He had huge hands.  He was Bohemian, and very proud of it.  He spoke Czech, and I remember he and my Grandma speaking Czech when I was little and they didn't want me to understand them.  He had a thick Bohemian accent, but I didn't realize that until I was grown up; that was just the way he talked and I could understand him.  I remember when friends of mine met him, and they couldn't understand him!

My Grandpa could fix everything, and helped a lot of people.  When I was younger I remember him being active - fixing something in his large garage, running an errand to the local hardware store, mowing his HUGE lawn, picking raspberries for me, driving me somewhere, always doing or creating something to make life a little easier and better.

My Grandpa also liked to take naps, read the newspaper, and drive my grandma crazy sometimes. :-)  He always gave my sister Vanessa and I brainteasers and unique puzzles and challenged us to solve them.  Many of them he made for us.

Every Christmas, he found unique ways to give the family members money for Christmas.  I think my all time favorite was when he gave everyone walnuts (I think) and inside of them was their money.  He was VERY clever.

The older I got, the more I realized my Grandpa was always thinking, a deep thinker.  I also think he was very observant and discerning.  I remember him understanding things before they were even said. 

Another thing I noticed as I became more aware, was my Grandpa would talk and be full of stories - but not necessarily in a crowd.  If you had him one-on-one, he was FULL of interesting stories, ideas, and even shared some of the crazy antics he participated in "back in the day".  He was funny!  I've always wanted to video tape him telling stories, sort of interview him, but I didn't.  I horribly regret that.

He didn't have to be the center of attention.  He would sit quietly, taking in more than any of us really knew. 

I will miss my Grandpa immensely, and am very sad that my daughter won't get to remember him.  As the oldest grandchild, I was blessed to have 29 years with him.  He was a silent presence in our family.  And he wasn't even that silent, the rest of us are just loud. :-)

I love my Grandpa, and I know with all of my heart that he loved me, and all of his family, even though he wasn't the best at expressing it. The sparkle in his eyes said it all.  He was very proud of us.

He always waved goodbye with a twinkle in his eye, his large frame easily seen, and gently waved his pointer finger.  It was his signature wave, we all loved it.

I just with I could see his big smile again, hug his big, hard belly, getting lost beneath his chin and hear him say one more time, in his deep, loud voice, "Hello, Girl".

Grandpa, saying goodbye to India in August

A Christmas to remember. And forget a little too.

I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas!!  We had a few hiccups along the way, but overall, we have been blessed this Christmas season. 

India had 5 pretty Christmas outfits, all of them gifts, borrowed or hand-me-downs! 

India and cousin Brooklynn in the Christmas dresses Grandma Shelly got them.  Grandma Shelly even made their hats!

We cut back this year, and only had 4 Christmas celebrations this year.  Well, that's not totally true, because we still have two more, but at least they're not during the busy time.

India with Grandma Kay

The three of us got lots of great gifts - iTunes (or iPod tunes ;P) , Amazon, Target, Best Buy, Walmart, Hobby Lobby, movie theatre, and Pout Baby Boutique gift cards.  And of course, the much loved CASH gifts!  We got lots of other things too, which we are enjoying!

I must say, I was way more excited about India's gifts than my own!  She got 10 different books this Christmas, and for anyone that doesn't know, this girl loves to be read to!

So exciting!

I did get a bad gift this year - an abscessed front tooth. 

Ouch.  That's the part of Christmas I'd like to FORGET! 

Not my first, but hopefully my last!  Because I'm breastfeeding and allergic to a lot of medicines, it's been difficult finding antibiotics and painkillers for me.  Through the course of it all, we also found out I have adverse reactions to Codeine, too.  Which is fine with me, because it wasn't even taking away my pain! 

I didn't get tons of pictures of India at my parent's Christmas, because I was in so much pain, but here are a couple!

India is the youngest, so she got to open her gifts first.  Here is the ANXIOUS view from our seat!!

Tired India and big cousin, Zoelle.  Zoelle wore this dress for her first Christmas, also!

India also enjoyed her first snowmobile ride.  She needed a little coaxing at first, but enjoyed it!

"It's OK, honey!"

India still hasn't opened her presents from us, and it looks like it will just be her and I having our own little Christmas, since my husband is really busy, and our weekend was filled with family gatherings and emergency dentist appointments.



Back to Ms. India again....her first tooth has made it's grand appearance!  My baby is growing up!

And perhaps my favorite photo this Christmas... 

India and Grandpa Ken

I'm scheduled for a root canal this week! I know a lot of people hate root canals, but I love them, because they equal relief! I can hardly wait until I no longer look like a Who from Dr. Seuss!

Dallas is leaving for Ghana, Africa in a couple of days. He is going to speak at a youth retreat there. I'm VERY jealous that he gets to go and see some great friends, and meet many new friends. But I'll get over it. I think.

While he is gone, I'm going to start preparing and freezing baby food for when India starts solids.  I'll also blog more often too. ;-)

Would you pray for my husband as he travels to Ghana this week?  Especially pray for the kids that he'll be ministering to!   Thank you!!

Merry Christmas!

We're ready for Christmas around here!  Christmas is my favorite holiday - not because of all the celebrations, but because of the traditions.  This year we have over seven family Christmases, but we will only go to three or four.  Our goal is to participate in one celebration per family, so we still have time to celebrate as a little family of three.

I like to have most things done and prepared ahead of time, so we can enjoy all the running,  um, I mean celebrating! 

Laundry is done (mostly)?  Check.

 

Christmas music is playing? Check.

Baked goods and appetizers finished?  Check. 

 (If you're wondering what's in the Zip-loc; it's jiao zi - one of my Dad's favorites.  It's LABOR INTENSIVE.  I only make it at Christmas.  Because I love my Dad. And to the purists, who don't like my folding...my excuse is I don't have a crimper).

Dishes are clean?  Check.

Presents wrapped? Check.

 

India's Christmas dresses washed and ready for wear?  Check.

Is a healthy, happy little girl ready to be overstimulated, overtouched, overtired and turned into a little grinch on her first Christmas?  Um, wait.  Is that a booger sucker in her hand?  Yes it is.

Yeh, she's got a stuffy nose - although she thinks the booger sucker is her new BFF.  A baby with a cold wasn't on my original checklist. 

Oh well.

At least we have an easy excuse for when Great-Great Uncle So-and-So is the umpteenth person to get in her face, snap a flash picture, try to grab her, throw a toy in her face, scare her with a loud laugh, and then make her cry.  When Great-Great Uncle So-and-So asks why she won't go to sleep in the midst of it all and if he is upsetting her, we can say, "No, she just has a cold".

We wouldn't want to hurt Great-Great Uncle So-and-So's feelings. ;-)

So, from my house to yours, wherever you may be, I hope that in the midst of family and food, you can find some time to reflect upon the real purpose of Christmas. 

 I pray regularly for my readers, and my prayer for you today is that you know this God who is with us this holiday season, in a way that you have never known Him before.

God bless you all and Merry Christmas!!!

The lost is found

With all the bad news in the world, I want to share a good story.  These stories seem hard to come by, but quite often, I think our eyes aren't used to the good.  Or maybe we don't want it.  The dirt sells more.  We love to stick our noses in it. 

Even this blog post won't have as many views because it's a good story.

About a month ago, Dallas' grandparents were making their way back from their snowbird home in Arizona to celebrate their grandson's wedding in Minnesota. 

As they were making their way through security at the airport, Grandpa lost his wallet.  He left it in the tray, and in all the hubbub of body scans, pat downs and shoe removal, it was forgotten.  Grandpa gathered up all his stuff, went to the gate and then realized his wallet wasn't on his person.

A trip back to the security area, left Grandpa empty-handed.  His wallet was gone.  He lost all of his credit cards, personaly identification and $400 cash.  Bummer deal.

We all felt for Grandpa and Grandma as they shared their story at the wedding.  It's a pain to lose all that valuable information, especially when it's during a holiday (Thanksgiving) and you're very busy (grandson's wedding). 

They went back "home" to Arizona after the wedding, having canceled all cards that could possibly further compromise them.

Then the surprise of all surprises came.

 They received a phone call from someone saying they had Grandpa's wallet, and wanted to send it back, all under the condition of anonymity.  Grandpa was grateful that someone would even consider giving it back, and didn't ask many questions. 

He then told the man to take $200, half of the cash that was in his wallet as a reward for returning the wallet, and mostly as a thank you.

The man replied something along the line of, "As I was looking through your wallet, I saw that you were a veteran.  That is thanks enough". 

The man then sent the wallet back, anonymously, with every dollar still in it.

I don't know if this man had a change of heart and felt guilty, or if he just happened upon the wallet and didn't want to be wrongly accused if he returned it. 

It doesn't matter to me.  Of course, I would love to know, but the beauty in this is the unknown.  There is a lot less room for judgment that way.

Whatever the case may be, I'm still encouraged by this story.  It reminds me that it's never to late to do the right thing. 

You are missed, Matt

I promised myself not to write very much on my blog this week, because it's a particularly busy one.  But I couldn't NOT share this.

Today would have been my cousin Matt's 31st birthday.  He's actually not my first cousin, or even my 2nd cousin.  I am, however related to him, as my dad and his mom are 2nd cousins. Maybe some genealogy genius can figure that out.

I didn't have 1st cousins close in age to me, so Matt & I, along with his brother and sister and my sister grew up more like first cousins.  We spent annual holidays together and visited each other during school breaks.  I could go on with memories and funny stories of Matt.

Matt's parents are my godparents - whom I love very, very, very much.

Matt's family is more than distant relatives to our family, they are close friends.

I say it would have been, because Matt passed away when he was barely 17 years old.  I was barely 15.

Matt took his own life.

To this day, I can barely write or speak about Matt without getting emotional.  And every year, as November 29th, Matt's birthday comes closer, I feel a little overwhelmed with sadness. 

And every year, right after Christmas, I am overwhelmed with sadness as we approach the anniversary of Matt's death.

Depression and suicide are tender topics.  And as you read both of those words, I'm sure you know someone who has been personally affected by one, the other, or both.

Maybe that someone is you. 

When Matt took his life he didn't understand what he was doing.  He didn't know how many hundreds of people would be devastated.  He didn't know that he would leave us with so many questions.  He didn't know that still to this day, his 'cousin' still weeps over him. He had no idea that every year, Thanksgiving and Christmas are soiled for his family.  He didn't know that every November 29th, instead of celebrating that he was born, the fact that he died tragically young overshadows it all.  He didn't know.  He couldn't have.

I wonder what he would be doing now.  What his wife and kids would be like (yes, he would be married - he had a FUN personality) .... What career path would he have chosen ....  I wonder how different life would be for his parents and brother and sister who are left with gaping life-size holes in their hearts ....Would he still be my friend .... What would he think of my husband and daughter?

It still makes me sick to my stomach when I see pictures of Matt - especially ones of him smiling.  It still hurts so bad. I'm still processing his death, and I think that's OK.

That's really all I have to say about this.  Depression sucks.  And suicide, well screw it. 

I love you, Matt.  And Happy Birthday.

Now that I'm a mom, I understand ________.

Now that I'm a mom, I finally understand naps. Praise God when India gets a good nap in! I used to get a little irked when moms would say that they couldn't partake in such and such activity because their little one needed to nap. I fully understand now. If naptime is missed, my baby may be OK for awhile, but eventually all the missed nap hours compound into mini bits of hell as I try to get my overtired child to sleep later on.

Now that I'm a mom, I finally understand MOMMY'S SHOWER TIME. These precious few minutes are a gift; the only chance to stop working, relax and clear my mind. I get to breathe my own air. I get spit up, pee and poop washed off of me. I actually look in the mirror and look at myself. I shave my legs. I can actually have my boobs exposed, and no one is touching them.

Now that I'm a mom, I finally understand how amazing it is to go to the store, all by yourself. It's WAY more exciting than an anniversary date. Just sayin'.

Now that I'm a mom, I finally understand checking on my baby to make sure she's breathing. I thought moms who did this before were a bit crazy and overprotective. I do it, and actually, even did it as I was typing this.

Now that I'm a mom, I finally understand why moms don't take a lot of time to look super fly. A lot of moms I know didn't workout, wore clothes that didn't fit right, abandoned makeup and started coloring their hair from a box and I swore I would never be that mom. I am. You can usually find me at home, in yesterday's clothes, with the day before yesterday's makeup on, wearing my glasses, with a ponytail in and something stuck in my teeth because I haven't looked in the mirror (other than to look at my babe's reflection) since the night before.

Now that I'm a mom, I finally understand the crazy, throw-yourself-in-front-of-a-moving-bus-to-save-your-child-from-a-pin-prick type of love. I loved my husband (still do!) and am fiercely protective of him, but the voracious need to protect and keep my daughter safe is something unparalleled.

What things have happened in your life that bring you understanding on something you previously didn't understand?