2008 in review

January -
Rang in the new year with dear friends at a bar, listening to friend play in a band. My name was on the list at the door so we didn't get charge a cover. I remember thinking "I totally and completely feel my age and I love it." That rarely happens. Later that month, we learned I was pregnant.
February -
Let's not talk about February.
March -
We first heard Ben's heart beat in March and announced his existence to the world. At the time, it was the best feeling in the world. Sent Keith and most of the office to Egypt. Beat morning sickness to the curb.
April -
Welcome Keith back with open arms and vowed to never spend 24 days apart again. Went to California to celebrate Grandpa Hogan's 80th birthday. Felt like a Hogan.
May -
Vacation. Spent a weekend on the lake with our small group and realized (yet again) that they are family. Spent a week in Florida at the condo on our last vacation without kids, or worrying about the kids back home, ever in our life. Realized (yet again) that my favorite days are lazy days with Keith. Beach cabana = bonus.
June -
Started to really show and feel pregnant. Excitement grew.
July -
Celebrated my third wedding anniversary. Lots of little "get aways" and birthing class. July was big.
August -
Camping, showers, weddings, and really big ankles.
September -
Benjamin Rush Hogan was born September 25, 2008 at 1:41pm. Three weeks after I expected, but in perfect timing. Never prayed more in my life than September 2008.
October -
Adjustment.
November -
Back to work. Thank God for a job, but man it's hard.
December -
Can actually look at Ben without trying to get to know him. I see him and accept him as my family. Can't believe it took so long. And yet, can't believe it already happened.

I've stalled on writing this post because I'm not sure how to end it. I am so very blessed and thankful for the past 12 months. Can't wait for tomorrow and to dive into 2009. I can't wait to see Ben's personality explode, to experience even more as Keith's wife, and to grow more in love with my Creator. Cheers.

Quote of the Day

Two different guys in the office doing the p90X workout.
Both in pain.
Looked at the website today with one of them. And I quote "I'd kill for that guy's before."

Ripping Katie off... again

Watch this. You won't regret it. This means you, Quincy.
Katie's church in San Diego made it.
Keith chastised me last night for not blogging more. But now that I've seen this, I can't really think of anything better to say. Enjoy. And thank God that church media has come a long way.


Flood Christmas Concert & Christmas Shoppe Promo from FloodSanDiego on Vimeo.

Bible Marketing

I found the comments as interesting as the article on this one.
Take a look.

changes

Baby Center is an awesome site that e-mails you once a week to tell you what's going on with the development of your fetus/child. Today's e-mail had an article about the things that change when you have a baby. I'll second all of them - maybe even third #14. And I'll add my own #16.

1. You finally stop to smell the roses, because your baby is in your arms.
2. Where you once believed you were fearless, you now find yourself afraid.
3. The sacrifices you thought you made to have a child no longer seem like sacrifices.
4. You respect your body ... finally.
5. You respect your parents and love them in a new way.
6. You find that your baby's pain feels much worse than your own.
7. You believe once again in the things you believed in as a child.
8. You lose touch with the people in your life whom you should have banished years ago.
9. Your heart breaks much more easily.
10. You think of someone else 234,836,178,976 times a day.
11. Every day is a surprise.
12. Bodily functions are no longer repulsive. In fact, they please you. (Hooray for poop!)
13. You look at your baby in the mirror instead of yourself.
14. You become a morning person.
15. Your love becomes limitless, a superhuman power.
16. You realize showers are a luxury.

'tis the season

Have you heard elf's lament by BNL yet?
What? You're not listening to Christmas music? Loser.

You knew this was coming...

Ben has his own blog.

That way, I can stay selfish here.  In my spare time...

So if you want to keep up with all the latest and see pictures, add him to your blog roll.

Hopefully there will be more to read here again soon, too.  I've missed you, blog.

I get it

There aren't really words to sum up the last week and a half of my life.

The best I can say is now I get it.

That sappy infatuated look that new moms give their husbands?  I get it.

Feeling like sitting in a rocking chair for hours on end is the most important job in the world?  I get it.

The fear of being alone?

The definition of unconditional love?

Feeling sheer rage at a completely polite nurse bathing your child while he screams?

Happy tears?

"Outings" (like buying milk) being somewhat intimidating?

Joy.

Calling.

Family.

Yeah, I get that too.

It worked before

Dear Uterus,

Thank you.  You've been truly great the last 40 weeks and 2 days.  Really.  You've made my life much easier than I expected it to be and I am forever grateful.  Not all uteruses were created equal and you seem to be one of the best.  You were made to carry babies.  Good job.  But it's my turn to hold him now.  You've had your share.  Give him up.

Now I know we've been a little unsure about when your tenure would be up.  But everybody else has been ready to help him move on out for weeks now and you won't release your grip.  I am convinced yesterday was the day.  You missed a deadline. You know how I feel about that.

Maybe you're scared.  Me too.  But would you rather spend each day scared or just buck up and face the inevitable?  Because seriously, there's only one way for this all to end.  And maybe you don't know what to do.  I'd buy that if you weren't so freaking awesome at your job the past 40 weeks.  I think you know.  You've even been practicing.  It's time to take the plunge and contract.  Repeatedly.  Now.

Now I don't want to threaten you, but the reality is if you decide to be stubborn and hold your ground and refuse, the doctor will intervene.  He'll force you to.  It's called induction and it will happen before week's end.  I know it's not fair.  But it's not fair for you to hold my baby hostage anymore, either.  Yes, I appreciate the physical comfort of not contracting, but you're throwing my hips and nerves all out of whack everywhere else - essentially holding my body hostage, too.  Let me be clear - I hate the idea of induction.  Hate it.  Can't really explain all the reasons why, but I don't want it.  You're just leaving me no choice.

But you still have options.  Contract.  Today.  Break that bag of waters.  Right now.  Just do it.  I know you can.  You'll be great.  In fact, the progress we've made the last three weeks tells me this will be quick and easy.  There are people out there who labor for 12 hours to get to where we are.  It's time.  Let's go.

sweet dreams

They say that the dreams you have while pregnant are some of the most entertaining you'll have your whole life.  I'd have to agree.

It's especially helpful when you sleep as much as I have been the past few days - you remember them better.

Last night, I dreamt that the reason why I hadn't had my baby yet was because it was essential that I convinced Gorbachev to submit to the life-saving dialysis that he was refusing.  I was forced to go visit him - at the Korean strip mall where Keith's best friend used to own a coffee shop in Washington D.C.  And as soon as ol' Gorbachev would agree to go on dialysis, I was promised that I would go into labor.  I was seeking advice from everyone I knew about how to convince him it was worth it because if he said no, would I be pregnant forever?  Or just until he died?  No one could tell me.  And why in the world was this my responsibility over all the people in the world?  It was extremely frustrating.  In part because I woke up wondering - who is Gorbachev again? 

Just a glimpse

You can read a lot about parent/child bonding and still not understand it. I sort of understand it when it comes to my parents, but I cannot grasp the bond I'm creating with my child. Not even close. To be perfectly frank, I fear it won't come as easy for me as it does for some. I pray it does. And every once in a while, God gives me a little glimpse of just how beautifully he orchestrates this bond, even when you aren't paying attention.

The first time my heart twinged with the thought of being on the parent side of this relationship was in our breast feeding class. I was uncomfortable and frustrated and overwhelmed. And then, in an effort to prove to the men in the class (my husband being one of them) that men really do matter in the feeding process, the nurse spoke about going into rooms to examine babies, making them upset, and dad just walking over and speaking to the baby, calming them down. These are babies who are 4 hours old and they recognize the voice and the smell of their daddy enough to trust the safety he offers, even without the warmth of his embrace. That's incredible.

And last night, we kicked off care group season by passing around our newest member, a 3 week old 7 pounder. She's tiny. It's hard to comfort someone so tiny. She started squaking something fierce. Mom stood up, crossed the room, picked her up, and it was over. In an instant. She wasn't unsafe or uncomfortable or abandoned in someone else's arms. But they weren't her mommy's. And that's really all she wanted. It's miraculous. I can't believe I get to take part so soon!

I love fall

Trapper keepers and new erasers.
Haircuts and new lunch boxes.
Gym shoes that squeak and school shoes that stain the tips of your socks brown because you forgot to waterproof them and it's still hot enough to sweat at recess.
Organized locker.
The new kid.
Slippers in the morning.
The down comforter at night.
Pumpkin. Spice. Lattes.
New jeans.
Long sleeves.
Hooded sweatshirts.
The breeze.
Dusk at dinner time.
The colors orange, red, and gold.
Crunchy leaves on the sidewalk.
Cider.
Routine.
Good hair days (aka less humidity)
Football games (aka marching bands)
Baking.
Stew.
Chilly husband.
Cozy husband.
Snuggles.
Red wine and green tea.

I really lucked out having a fall baby... fall weeks at home totally make up for spending a hot summer pregnant. I just can't wait.

What Mario isn't telling you

Evidence of "the man" in my life can be found at Getty Images.
Any guesses where we might show up?

Bonus points if you can name the TV reference in this post's title.

Hey, you - office pooper:

Our one-holer toilet closets don't offer much air circulation. Therefore, when you poop, turn off the light (and subsequently the fan) and then shut the door, you trap your poo smell in that tiny little room until someone finally breaks down and knocks on the shut door only to realize they've been pacing outside of an empty room for 20 minutes and then enter only to be knocked out by the fumes.
As far as I see it, you have two options:
1. Buck up, trooper. Everybody poops. And lots of people do it at work. So leave the door open at least a bit to let it air out. If you're feeling exceptionally self conscious (even after the courtesy flush), then leave the light/fan on. And give the room a little squirt of that fancy little air freshener that sits right there next to the toilet. Yes, if you squirt it, I might catch on to the fact that you dropped a deuce while you were in there for 20 minutes. But I'm here to tell you I'm onto you even without the courtesy of a little fresh air.
2. If you must close the door, leave the frickin' fan on!
3. And while we're on the subject, another note. If you stand up to pee, why wouldn't you do it in the urinal? It's right there. And when you pee in there, I can't hear it. And yep, I can hear you in there.

Money well spent

Behold, the best $25 I've ever spent in my life. I hate people touching my feet. But Ellen at AT Nails did me right.

And yes, actually I do worry about whether I'll get stretch marks on my ankle.

And then a complete impulse buy...
While picking up the necessities at Babies R Us, we came across the cutest bassinet I've ever seen in my life. Converts to a moses basket or a chair. We had a loner, but I just couldn't leave this one on the shelf. Keith loved it because it came with only TWO screws. Does it get any better???

If you're shopping, too, you can product details here.

Problem solved

Our cat Charlie is the most curious animal I have ever met.
Whatever I'm doing, he's right there, trying to figure it out.
Even if I'm cutting garlic - he'll take part of the skin and test it out to see if it's any good.
If I'm making the bed, he's on or in the sheets the entire time.
It's an endearing trait... most of the time. Partly because he's also such a talker - he really keeps me company!

He also has a bit of an ego. He is convinced that every last thing we bring into the house is for him. Some toys are more lame than others. But pretty much every bed-like thing makes him happy. A bed-like thing may be my jacket on the floor of the mud room, freshly folded laundry in a basket, or Keith's work uniforms (which had been on the table for about thirty seconds when I took this picture).

So needless to say, I've been a bit concerned about how to keep the cats out of the crib. Charlie will get in because he thinks the bed is his. Phoebe will get in because she loves to sleep ON people - specifically their necks. I may not be a pro at this parenting thing yet, but neither seem like a great idea to me.

We brought in the basinette, Charlie claimed it. Changing table in the nursery? His. So he never gets in the habit of hanging out in the crib, I've kept it chocked full of boxes, etc. so he can't sleep in there, but he still climbs over all the stuff like a mountain goat.

The vet suggested wiping everything down with citrus flavored cleaning solution to deter them. But this cat's willing to eat garlic! And then of course the spraying technique. Guess what? Charlie loves water. Even gets in the shower with me sometimes, just to play with the drips. I was beginning to think the situation was hopeless.

Enter craigslist.
Per wise suggestion, I invested in a second changing table for the main level of our house. We put it in the office. In front of the window. Charlie hasn't left it since we put it in. Sometimes he even shares with Phoebe. I don't think he's ever been happier with a bed-like thing in his house, ever. And I'm pretty sure he'd rather be here, in front of his window, than sharing a bed with a baby in a dark corner of an upstairs room any day. I kind of miss him in bed with us at night, but this is a HUGE relief!

Clearly, the window treatments are a work in progress.... :)

And so it begins

Scene: College cafeteria
Vibe: chaos (aka "scramble system")
Purpose: shoot photographs of food and kids getting some
Quote of the day: "Wouldn't it be awesome if your water broke right now?"
Question of the day: Why in the sam hill are you thinking about that and not how to get this shot over with????

Remembering

Having been married now for three years, I find myself still adjusting to considering my "in-laws" family. I truly feel bonded and connected to them in a familial way, but still have trouble calling them just mom instead of "keith's mom", etc. I find myself eager for the baby so that they I can just call her grandma... somehow that's easier.

The most frustrating part of all this is that I can't really put my finger on where the struggle to say the words comes from. I truly want to say them. My family won't feel betrayed or abandoned by calling someone else "mom", so what's my deal? It's further complicated by the fact that Keith just jumped right into calling my parents mom and dad. In my mind, it reveals part of his nature - to be so completely loving and transparent with everyone. So do I reflect the opposite nature by avoiding addressing these people at all costs? I think at the root of it all, it reveals more of a reluctance to change. The good news is that condition isn't permanent, I hope.

I also certainly can't blame any of them for making it difficult. I'll never forget the first time I spent real quality time with Keith's family. We weren't married yet - had only been dating a few months (which just happens to be a significant percentage of our courtship, but that's another story). The Hogans had rented a cabin on Lake Michigan for the weekend. Grandma Nancy was still living with them, so she was there. And Aunt Hallie was visiting from San Diego, so she came as well. Mom, dad, Keith and Faith and Troy made it a full house.

Hallie, Mom and grandma shared the room with twin beds, Troy and Faith slept in the basement, Keith and dad crashed on couches in the living room and I got the master room to myself. (Told you they don't make it difficult to feel welcome). I thought it would be a relaxing and quiet weekend at the lake. I hadn't met Aunt Hallie.

Every time I returned to "my" room, there was a new discovery of fake poop. I found pine cones shaped like poop on my pillow. Rocks shaped like poop on the floor. Rubber poop in my bag. A dirty diaper on the dresser. She was a never ending bag of tricks. They tried to teach me the Hartley Duck Lips (to no avail) and we laughed about boob jobs and botox. I bought my first pair of "billy bob" teeth. I learned family secrets. Quiet it was not. But it was comfortable, like only spending time with family really can be.

Grandma Nancy passed away about a year later. And then Aunt Hallie got sick. This weekend is Aunt Hallie's and mom's birthday (they were born on the same day, exactly two years apart) as well as the anniversary of her death. I've been thinking about her a lot this week, and praying for her husband and girls - and mom, too. With each thought, I'm struck by how close to home it feels. Hallie's death affected my family, not just Keith's. That awareness is a gift from above, I think.

When I think about Hallie's memorial, I think about the scene below - of mom and Rachel and Lane and Little Hallie all dancing in celebration of such a dear sister, aunt, friend.

It is finished

We're a pint of touch up paint, a window blind, and some bedding away from having the nursery 100% complete. But I promised y'all pictures over a month ago, so here goes. Door from the hallway is to the left of the first picture and to the right of the last - this is a 360 of the room. Sorry they're a little soft. The stuff on the walls includes a needlework from Bangladesh, prints from Israel, B&W from Africa, a mobile and frame from Bangladesh, and a silk (?) painting from the Philippines, and some bunny ceramics that Keith's granny collected. It might prove to be a bit much, but at this point, I love it.

The swing won't stay in front of that closet door. And we put our fabulous purple glider in the living room and moved the lazy boy up from the basement because... well... can you believe we have more room in this bedroom than our living room?

The Armoir (another of Keith's inheritance from granny) has had the fabric replaced and yes, Heidi, that's your PBK mobile above the crib. Can I keep it?

And for you worry warts out there, I KNOW --- Nothing in the crib except for baby. But Peter's holding down the fort for now.

My parents came this weekend and my mom helped me make some decisions about the clothes situation. It's solved. I weigh 20lbs less now. Huge relief. Huge. I just needed someone to tell me what to do. It worked.

All this is probably way too much information... but something tells me there's a handful of you who will still have questions. My answer? Come visit.

overly dramatic, yet desperate plea for help

No one reading this should be surprised that I like to organize. Especially closets. I don't always like maintaining organization, but getting everything into appropriate groups makes my heart happy. And nothing is better than an organized closet.

Keith gave me light in the nursery closet last week, so I've begun trying to figure out where things will go in the entire room. You would think this would be less of a chore for me - it really is just grouping things, but it's completely unknown territory. I sort of feel like I've been asked to organize a wood working shop. Do you want chizels hanging for easy access or are they better in a drawer? Does each tool get its own spot, or do you group similar tools together, kind of like in the kitchen? I'm completely paralyzed without a plan.

I started by washing the oodles of hand-me-downs we've received. And then I stopped. Do I organize by type? Ie short-sleeved-no-legged onesies, sleepers, winter, summer... And if this is the route, what are the categories??? I opted to go with sizes instead - I sorted by 0-3, 3-6, and 6-9 month and for now, each size has a drawer. But it's not going to cut it. I'm almost out of drawer space and the sizes across brands are totally different. Is there any point in hanging anything ever? Oooh - just had an idea - I do have some of those closet shelf hanger thingys... but still the sorting issue.

I know that I will find a groove once I'm actually living in that room, but in the meantime - any advice??? I already signed up for Martha's organizing tip of the day but so far she's been worthless and I'm one more package from Diapers.com away from a meltdown.

When I'm Mrs. America

...this has real potential for a platform.

This is what happens when you google yourself

be glad you aren't an "intern"

Monday: Dead possum found in front of office. Intern told to find shovel and remove of roadkill. Intern eagerly looks for shovel. No luck, thankfully. Or the rotting carcass would still be in our dumpster. City is called. Road kill interaction averted. For now.

Wednesday: Intern picks up boss from airport, drives him to office. Both arrive to loading dock to find dead mouse outside the door. (Seriously, is there something in the air?) I open the door, boss stops it and says, "Don't squish the mouse! Get a shovel." Intern reports the shovel is MIA. I grab background paper (heavy duty stuff) - well over three feet of it - hand it to the intern and say, "Here - just throw it in the dumpster." Boss yells, "No! You can't ask the intern to manhandle dead meat." (Or something to that effect). Other boss overhears, pushes the men out of the way and womanhandles the dead meat.

Thursday: Intern sent to pick up more background paper (one too many roadkills and we're out). Given boss' car for the errand. Lays down the back seat, sets large tube of heavy paper from trunk to front seat. Closes the trunk. Shatters windshield. Passenger's side window won't roll down. Intern stranded 45:00 away from office. Panics.

Meanwhile, we've heard about our editor's favorite joke at the old place, asking the intern to go downstairs and find the bars and tone. There was no downstairs.

Glimpse of heaven?

I like this. And since I haven't had anything clever or witty to share and still haven't downloaded any pictures from our weekend with Abbie, here it is. Enjoy. Thanks, Katie.

If you liked it too, you can read more about it here.

I'm not sure if it's the hormones or the recent news that we may be able to see Troy and Faith and Yazzie home from Bangladesh this Christmas, but it actually chokes me up a little bit.

This just in

Due date's been bumped up from September 29 to September 21. 8 days might not feel like a lot to you, but I've officially scheduled my freakout for this Friday. Brace yourself, Heid.

Quote of the Day

Courtesy of the "intern"

"So... ah... it's not really appropriate to bring alcohol to work. Right????"

Promotion?

Just for the record, the power would definitely go to my head.

Long overdue

It's only July 8 and I've already had a great summer. I owe you some pictures.

Keith's been busy on projects at the house. Not even mentioning the nursery (pictures to come soon - we're so close!), he's been busy. He built a fence. Dodger hates it because it made his yard very boring (no good views of the street), but I can put him outside without keeping half an eye on him like normal. This will be an even bigger deal once the baby arrives, I suppose. Here it is in progress - the finished product is even more impressive!

He also managed to kill the weed that threated to eat our house. This sucker seriously sprang up in a week and had thorns. It has to be some sort of demon plant.


This summer is also the first time in our marriage that Keith regularly falls asleep before me. I celebrate this as a sort of "high." Although it breaks my heart to tell Dodger it's time to get down. Can you even believe how huge he is?

We haven't stayed home ALL summer, though...
We went to Florida - saw alligators, my grandpa's "smile" and Lily in the ocean for the first time.


We also went to Detroit and and saw the Tigers beat the Dodgers - my first professional sporting event!

We mourned the loss of Dodger's special friend, Wednesday. (Named after hump-day, you get the picture). I seriously think we have more pictures of this dog than anything else in our life. For now.
Lily turned one year old!


We celebrated our anniversary by camping up north this past weekend. I don't think there was ever a more perfect weekend in terms of weather. It's impossible to not like camping when it's this great. This is 6' from our tent. Awesome. I just wish I had a picture of back-packer Keith blowing up his pregnant wife's MONSTROUS air mattress!!


And just to prove that I do let Keith handle the camera sometimes and I AM still alive.... hi.

Week of Threes

This week marks the beginning of my third timester and my third anniversary to my husband. We're adjusting to the first and celebrating the latter.

As far as the pregnancy goes, I'm in a bit of shock. Only three more months until we meet our son. The first three months felt like eons. The second three months felt like three months. I'm a little concerned that the third three months will feel more like hours. If one more person tells me "September is just around the corner!" I might get violent. I suppose it helps that I'm experiencing some minor discomforts. Nothing too drastic or even worth complaining about. I just wish I could bend over to plug in my computer each morning without making that old man noise. And I know that women who have had babies before get to this stage and are counting down the days because they just want their pregnancy to be over. Not me. Still significantly intimidated by the idea of getting every necessary baby part from the inside of me to the outside of me. Besides that, I feel pretty comfortable with the idea of pregnancy. I get it. I figured out how to cope with the annoyances. Motherhood on the other hand, new ball game. I'm pretty sure it'll take more than 27 weeks to catch on there...

And then again, when I think about how much my life, my perspective, my outlook has changed (all for the better) in three years of marriage, I can't even begin to imagine what life will look like three years from now. I'll have a son who (Lord willing) walks and talks and hopefully uses the potty on his own. He'll call me mommy. He'll adore his daddy almost as much as I do. And I'll have been married to my best friend for six years.

I can't imagine how fun that's going to be.

Bummer of a craving

It's Friday.
It's been a heck of a week.
It's sticky hot today.
Calls for a little taste of summer, I think.


What I really want:



How I'll settle:

I don't mean to whine, but

I seriously think in hell, everyone will have mosquito bites on their toes for eternity.

Maybe it's all the rain, but seriously - where did these monsters come from? They just appeared, overnight. And they're HUGE. And my toes, well... they're in hell.

Confession

I don't know how to make camping happen.
Keith and I planned to go camping last weekend. He had to work.
This weekend, he's going with the care group boys. I'm miffed.
July 4th weekend is our anniversary. We will camp.
I want an inland lake, because I want to swim with my dog.
I find campgrounds that look good, but they don't take reservations. And it's a bloody holiday weekend. People will be camping over the 4th starting this weekend.
Arg.
I want to be someplace we haven't been before, but drivable in 4 hours or less.
Any suggestions?

Normally, this would totally be Keith's job, but he just hasn't had any time for the internet lately. I'm trying to fill the gap and failing miserably. But I'm here to tell you - if it requires sleeping in the back yard, we will be camping next weekend. You have my word.

Unless it's real hot...

It's just a great day to be me

Doc called first thing this morning - passed the three hour test. (Way to go, pancreas - I knew you could do it!)

Then I bit the bullet and finally went to the eye doctor. It's been over 6 years since I had new glasses and my contact supply is pathetic. I've been stalling because it's just so dang expensive. Thank you, Walmart. Not only did you save me over $150 from my overpriced, Gucci wearing eye doc on "the north side", but you gave me a doctor who is pregnant and allergic to all the same things as me. I have 2 new prescriptions, new contacts, new glasses, a new process of cleaning and storing my lenses guaranteed to cut down on my allergies (if you're interested, I'll fill you in) and a newfound loyalty to the thief of small-town entrepreneurship.

The bosses decided to offer lunch on the house today as thanks for all the tails being busted around here lately. It included dirt dessert and about 20 too many gummy worms.

And as if this 72 degree sunny day couldn't get any better, I just had yet another encounter with our "intern" that made me laugh out loud. Moments ago, I boxed all my strapless bras to ship off to a bridesmaid (you know who you are) in need of... shall we say "support" (they should get there Monday!) I was pretty intentional about bringing them into the office in a plastic bag and boxing them up in a room alone. All very covert. So the box is sitting in the place where UPS always looks. Cue the "intern" (in quotes because I believe intern-sans-quotes implies some sort of experience/interest in the field). "Have you seen the shipment for cases come in yet?" Nope - haven't signed for anything today. Better track it. Exit "intern." Intern returns with the bra box. "I found this one - should I open it?" Oh... the only way to make this day any better is to forget describing how you can read a label and see who it's addressed to, forget describing that 1,000 CD cases is much heavier than a few bras, and just say "Why not? Might as well check, eh?" Guess we'll have to save that one for a rainy day.

Riddle Me This

Why is it that whenever someone new can't remember my name, by default I am automatically Amy or Heather?
Without fail!
The only exception is when people mishear me on the phone and call me Sharon.
What I wouldn't give to be something more exotic or exciting. But to replace boring midwest name for another boring midwest name - it's just... well, boring and midwest.

some random thoughts on Monday

I think with few exceptions, adults just aren't challenged enough. Sure, we're challenged with the day-to-day living and normal growing-older-changes. But when was the last time you were faced with a real "what do I stand for" challenge? I can't remember the last time, save not flipping off the idiot who played chicken with me in the left turn lane last Thursday.

Sunday's Sermon was all about "what message are you giving?" What's it mean to live as a priest (a la Malachi 1). It's an interesting question. I think too often, my response to a less than ideal situation is anxiety, anger, sarcasm. When it should really be more of grace, acceptance, truth.

This kid I know modeled such behavior for me. I'd retell the story, but I've already heard it thrice daily for the past week. You can read one of the many articles about him here.

I've also been completely sucked into a Christian Ficition novel (gasp!) that I NEVER would have picked up off the shelf if a friend hadn't placed it in my lap. If you need a role model and have some beach time this summer, check out Francine Rivers' Mark of the Lion trilogy. There's more there than reaches the eye, I swear.

I know these three thoughts seem quite unrelated, but in my head they all work together for one compelling conviction - being a Christian takes some work. And I've been freeloading for too long. Next step: do something about it.

Dear Pancreas

Look here. I realize that you have absolutely zero genes telling you how to function properly. But I'm here to tell you it's time to step it up a bit. And before you get all defensive about being singled out, I just want you to know that I have never written a letter to another organ, so that makes you special.

I know that being responsible for two bodies instead of one is a big deal. Especially when it's difficult just working for one. I've always known you were a bit weak and would probably need some support. I'm here to tell you I'll offer that support. Please don't require support from pills or injections. Isn't my loving encouragement enough??

If you need inspiration, just look at Heart or Lungs. They seem to be doing well, even with the current conditions. (Although I'd rather you not take any cues from Right Ankle - he's been freaking out for weeks now.) What I'm trying to say here is that this is new for ALL of us. And it takes a little extra effort. But the bottom line is we're in this thing together and the result of our effort will totally be worth it. So buck up, trooper.

The bad news is you failed a test yesterday. You were required to process a butt-load of sugar within an hour and you did a half-ass job. The good news is, you get a second chance. Next week some time, you and me, we'll go to the lab and sit for three hours while you work your little pancre-ass off. I want you to know that no one will be cheering harder for you that day than me. This is also your warning - you need to get in shape. Next week will be the same amount of sugar, but this time you get three hours to process it instead of one. I think you can do it. In the meantime, I'll do my best to keep a positive attitude because with you and me, it's all about chemistry, isn't it?

another reason I'm not Buddhist

You should read This article, inspired by this article.
And then watch this, just for fun.

I had thoughts about this I was going to jot down when I first began this post... but now I'm officially motivated to call it a day and get home. So, talk amongst yourself. TGIF.

just think if I had had a bad day

I went to Meijer last night. I should have just stayed home and poked my eyes out. Or grown my own food - it would have taken less time.

They're in the process of remodeling. That Meijer has been the same since I was a freshmen in college. Now all the sudden the yogurt (which used to be in the very last aisle) is temporarily in the produce section?! Don't get me wrong - I'm thrilled with the potential for an upgrade. All I'm asking for is a friendly little note in the very last aisle that says "You can now find yogurt in the produce section." Is that seriously too much to ask?

I thought my quick errand would take 30 minutes max. It was an hour because I walked the entire length of the store - all four corners - at least four times. Greeting cards are in the front?! Arg.

They're also working on installing more self-check outs, but they're all still express lanes. The two cashiers on my end of the store are adolescent males. I make it a habit to never stand in a teenage boy's line. They're at least twice as slow as any other human being on the planet. I was intrigued by some of the articles in Fit Pregnancy. Lucky for me, I had a chance to read them all before even putting my things on the conveyer. And then he wants to talk about the weather. It was all I could do to not shove him out of the way and scan my own groceries. "You don't have to look up the number for cherries - it's right on the bag..."

And the best part? I bought four greeting cards. He read them. All. But he didn't understand one of them. He asked me about it.

"I guess you just have to hope no one sends that one to you!"

I wasn't even in a hurry, but this is why people go postal.

Shining Happy People

We had a great vacation, but we kind of sucked at documenting it.
I'll show you instead what church looks like to me.
I stole this one from Hannah (she's on the far right) - it's our small group family at Captain Sundae at our spring retreat a few weeks back. It's warmer now in Michigan, I swear.
I think this picture is just great and this blog is the closest I come to framing anything these days, so here goes.

hormones make me cheesy

I've been humming this song for weeks - pretty much ever since Keith started his new job. It's been an adjustment for us - a new schedule, a new level of exhaustion, a shake up of household responsibilities, a new budget - the works. But it's been awesome. And to have a husband who comes home every day covered with dirt, but happy to his core to have done something productive makes my heart happy. And the truth is I love him to pieces.

And it's no surprise to anyone who knows me that mornings are not exactly my "best" time. I believe it was Wassa who said it best. "Watching Johnson wake up is painful. It's as if she's never had to face a morning before in her life. Each day, it's a new and traumatizing experience." (or something like that, right Wass?) BUT... even with 5 months with no caffeine (besides one moment of weakness and a can of mountain dew), I'm PRODUCTIVE in the morning! Getting to bed at 10pm is good for my soul. I still sleep in more than Keith and have to live with the daily guilt of my hour-long love/hate relationship with the snooze button. But I even TALK before getting to work. To the animals, of course. But this is like breaking new ground. And I'm not tired in the afternoon. And I'm happier. And I just feel like a good person, almost like I'm better than everyone else dragging in exhausted, almost like I jog in East Grand Rapids.

All of that to say, my morning-Susie-homemaker-self has been humming good ol' Kenny for quite some time because of the chorus, really. I remember Meghan declaring this would be her wedding song. For me, I feel as though it's my theme song this month. So I decided I better look up the lyrics. I read them today. And they made me cry.

I don't have any idea who won American Idol last night, but I'll bet you that person is no Kenny Loggins. And I'm here to say I wish there were more of him because Light Rock is where it's at!

Hogan genes

I've always pictured my baby looking like a Johnson.
But I have two nephews now, who are cousins of each other, who look as though they could be brothers.
The good news is they're both dang cute.

Meet Yazzie. He's wearing pink because he lives in Bangladesh and they don't really care about our social norms. It's a miracle we got these pictures - the internet there is slower than customer service at Verizon.


And I think Yazzie looks just like his cousin Lane, who looks just like his grandpa and great-grandpa, don't you think?

Then again, maybe it's just the bald head...

milestones

I'm pretty sure I want this blog to be more than a pregnancy journal, but my "deep" thoughts are a little too scattered to be published. So for today, a report on two milestones reached this weekend:

1. I felt a kick. More like a thump. I'd do anything to feel it again.

2. I now understand what it means to nest. I'm unstoppable. I wish I could bottle this. Spare room - check. Study - check. Next: hall closet and the basement. I told Keith that if he doesn't want me in the garage than he better kick it in gear. I'm even considering tackling the storage bin of old photos (gasp!) - and could there even be a wedding album order??? Shocking. I've got to make hay before it gets hot or it will never last. I feel like a million bucks. Go ahead - ask me where Keith's birth certificate is. I know. And yes, I actually am donating a total of four cardigans from my teaching days. That reminds me - I need to go through the shoes. Oh if it weren't for this blasted job...

It's a boy!

Letter to my son

My Dear Baby Boy,

I already feel like I've loved you my whole life. This week, Daddy and I got our first glimpse of you through the ultrasound monitor. It was the first day we knew for sure you were a boy (although we both had a hunch all along)! It was a magical day! It made us so impatient for the day when we can hold you and kiss you and touch you all over, from the tip of your head to the bottoms of your feet.

I get distracted a lot lately, dreaming about you. I wonder if you'll have lots of dark hair when you're born and if your fingers will be long like mine or thick like daddy's. I can't wait for you to meet your family - they all love you so much. And you won't believe how fun your pets are.

I've been praying for you since before you were alive and I continue to every single day. I pray that God will grow you healthy and strong, that he'll protect you from common baby discomforts and that he'll reveal himself to you, even now. Daddy and I think we have your name picked out already, but we know for sure that God knows it.

I can't feel you yet and lots of people don't even notice you as a "bump" in me yet, but we saw all of your working parts this week - we know that you're whole and unique and that we couldn't possibly love you more. I'm already so proud to call myself your mom.

with all the love in my heart,
mommy

Klompen Dancing = Onomatopoeia

Just in case you won't make it to our neck of the woods this year - here's how the streets of Holland look these days

Confession of an office rat

I have a fantasy.
I've had it all morning.
I seriously can't shake it.

It's pouring today. And really windy. Downright blustery, I'd say.
When I let Dodger out this morning, he almost blew off the deck.
My first thought was "Sucky day to be a tree climber."
My second thought was "I wonder if it's windy enough to knock out the power."

And then I got all warm and fuzzy inside.
Just think of it - internet down, no biggee. Phones down - dream day. But power down?! Go home!!! Sit in the dark! Take a nap! How glorious.

Work isn't even that bad, so it would be just a straight up treat. I wonder if I just tripped a breaker how convincing it would be...

Isn't it supposed to be APRIL showers?

Nice timing, guys

Cha-cha-cha-changes

It's been a while, so I'm not really sure where to start.
I've been a bit distracted lately. And I haven't really known how to blog about the big stuff (like meeting every last Hogan and loving every second of it, except the part where I picked up pink eye). But I was reminded of my blog friend when I sat at my desk today contemplating the life of the massive bumble bee that hovers outside the door all day every day. He was here last year, too. Where'd he go during the winter? Does he have friends? Is "he" really a million different bees, each standing guard of their invisible home on different shifts? Hmmm.... I wonder.

That bee is about the only thing in my life that's the same as last spring. My address is different. My waistline is different. My job is different. My outlook is different. (Elephant ears and lemonade at tulip time - that's the same, thank God.)

This week, the most tangible change has been Keith's new job.

And his new hair cut.


Yep. Those are chainsaw chaps and a #1 on the clippers. And yes, they both scare me a bit. So does the idea of our family reentering the world of commuting. So does being my husband's hairdresser. But I've decided I need to not get scared so easily. Told you things are changing.

And would you believe I just now saw TWO bumble bees? Must be a shift change. Amazing.

Bizarre

We got to go hear the heartbeat again yesterday. It was different this time - easier to find, louder - Bud sure is growing fast! There was also a new sound this time - a very electronic sounding blip that interrupted the heartbeat. I panicked at first and Doctor said, "That's the baby moving."

REALLY?!

I mean, rationally, I know it's not just sitting in there, stuck to the wall with velcro or something. But there were a TON of blips! And Bud's about the size of an apple.

I can't tell you how creepy it is to think of something the size of an apple moving and grooving in my abdomen without having the slightest inclination that it's happening.

Second only to how creepy it must be to be able to feel another human being moving and grooving in your abdomen! I'll tell you in a few more weeks...

I'm jealous again

Keith spent time in the Old City today.
I loved that place...
If it's not already on your list of places to go in life, add it.
And have some shawarma with extra pickles for me!

Weird Dream

I haven't been sleeping too great lately, and have been having the strangest dreams.
Last night, I dreamt a vivid music video for Crash Test Dummies' "Mmmm" song.
You know the one...
"Once, there was this kid who
got into an accident and couldn't come to school..."

I have not heard that song anywhere but my dream, but I've had it stuck in my head all morning.

Now you do, too :)

Guilty Pleasure

I promised Keith not to name our child while he was out of town, but I have been playing around with a few (trying my best not to fall in love with anything as he still has veto power).

Whenever a name gets stuck in my head for over a day, I consider it a contender. And by name I mean first and second. Once a name is a contender, I google it. No need to name our child after a serial killer. Or porn star.

It's seriously entertaining.

And that's really all I have to say about that. Because no, I'm not giving you any hints on the contenders. Osama's out, though. For sure.

new blog

Most of you are my friends because I like how you're sarcastic and witty. So I think you'll appreciate the new blog over there on the right called "stuff christians like."

So far, my favorite post is this one. I can't believe he didn't mention "the juice."

Thoughts on Egypt

I haven't really blogged about this, so here goes.
I never wanted to go to Egypt. A year and a half ago, when we started planning this production, I didn't want to go. I spent weeks, no - months, praying that God would change my heart. My assumption was that I didn't want to go because I was scared of it. After some serious soul searching, I came to terms with the fact that what I really wanted was to be pregnant. And I felt called to be - now. And I was tired of putting my life on hold for my job, no matter how cool of a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity awaited. It was a matter of pride to comes to terms with that. But once I did, I have never felt more relieved and satisfied in my identity. God even blessed me with a pregnancy pretty close to "my" timeline. I have never had any regrets about not hauling a 60lb backpack through the desert for 20 hour days.

Until today.

Keith called this morning from the top of Mount Sinai. I could be there with him. But I'm at home, knocked up. I say it so casually because my twinge of jealousy, of what could have been, is short lived. Sitting at my desk sorting receipts, I am doing the most important job of my life - I'm a mother.

Speaking of Music

Kara just made my day with this little gem. You can thank her.

In the middle... but of what?

I was driving home from Care Group last night, listening to Jimmy Eat World. I really like them, so I was singing along. I sang along pretty loudly to "The Middle" - it's quite catchy. However, at the end of the song, I realized that I only really knew about 1/2 the words. And I was singing loud. But "little girl, you're in the middle..." of what? A rind? That's weird. Does it have anything to do with that group Over the Rhine? If any of you are as bad as me (in other words, you've listened to a CD for 6 years and never actually learned the chorus), I've posted the lyrics here. For your sake, and mine.

Hey, don't write yourself off yet
it's only in your head
you feel left out or looked down on
just try your best
try everything you can
and don't you worry what they tell themselves
when you're away

it just takes some time
little girl you're in the middle of the ride
everything(everything) will be just fine
everything(everything) will be alright (alright)

hey, you know they're all the same.
you know you're doing better on your own, so don't buy in.
live right now.
yeah, just be yourself.
it doesn't matter if its good enough, for someone else.

It just takes some time, little girl you're in the middle of the ride
everything (everything) will be just fine,
everything (everything) will be alright (alright)

hey don't write yourself off yet.
its only in your head you feel left out
or looked down on.
just do your best, do everything you can.
and don't you worry what the bitter hearts are gonna say.

It just takes some time, little girl you're in the middle of the ride.
everything (everything) will be just fine,
everything (everything) will be alright (alright)

Life Lessons via ANTM

I caught an old rerun of America's Next Top Model last night. That's right, only one. A girl can only have one all weekend long marathon of Tyra clones in her life.

Nigel had the most remarkable comment. He said, "I think that some people may interpret your insecurities as bitchy."

I don't usually talk back to the television, but he got a big fat "well, duh!' out of me last night. Although as obvious as it seems, I"m really glad he said it. I think every girl should hear that. And they should hear that "bitch" is not a term of endearment. And I'm secretly glad Tyra heard it, too. That girl... Well, I'm not going to allow myself a soap box here. I think I just had to get my ANTM addiction off my chest. There, I feel better now. If you need a little pick me up, don't follow the Nigel link, just google him :)

do you smell that?

So far, I have had it pretty easy as far as pregnancy symptoms go. I'll spare you the details, but I can only really complain about exhaustion. And when it's winter in Michigan, I'm not sure there's anything better than going to bed early and sleeping in.

One thing that I'm still trying to get used to is the infamous "pregnancy nose." I can tell if Dodger's done his duty in the backyard just by stepping out onto the deck, without any visual of the doodie. Needless to say, it makes the location of my desk (about 12' from the bathrooms) very unfortunate for me. Again, I'll spare you the details, but sometimes I indulge in my hand lotion more for the nasal satisfaction than the hydrating qualities.

Where is this going, you ask?

Well, most people really only ever talk about negative smells (as I have just done). But as I type, there is a woman sitting about 6' from me, waiting for an appointment. She smells so dang good, I just wish I could think of a way to mention it. I know better than to mention an offensive BO, but a good one? Should you compliment? To a woman, it's okay, right? I'm not hitting on her. But what do you say? "Hey, I think you smell pretty neat. And I really appreciate it given the deuce that was dropped 30 minutes ago right over there. And yes, a 30 minute old poo is just as gross as a fresh one when you're pregnant. You probably know that - you have kids? Coffee brewing, too - I never thought I would think that's gross, but it is! And the absolute WORST is microwaved eggs a la nutrisystem..."

I just can't see how I would ever really wrap it up. So I'm letting it go. But I secretly hope she's here waiting for a long time...

Makes you wonder what the receptionist was thinking of you the last time you were alone in the waiting room, eh? Here's hoping she wasn't pregnant.

I can't believe it either

I am quite possibly the luckiest married girl in the world. Brace yourselves, I'm about to gush.
Keith left yesterday for the better part of a month. 24 days. I used to be accustomed to him being gone all the time, but I'm out of practice and yesterday was hard. It was made even harder by the fact that even the animals seem to be mourning his loss and I don't know how to tell them it's not forever.

My wonderful, romantic, thoughtful, mush of a husband took exceptional care to make sure that even I know his absence is not forever. In the mail yesterday, I had a card from him. He says I'll get one every day he's gone, that he's made "arrangements."

All night (and again this morning), I found post-it notes in every cupboard, drawer, on the OJ, in the window shade, all with a different message telling me how special I am to him (and displaying a THOROUGH knowledge of my routine).

All of this to say, I miss him more than I was prepared for, but that doesn't stop me from glowing today. I hope he can see it all the way in Egypt.

Early birthday present

This morning, I heard my baby's heartbeat.
I think every Monday should start so awesome.

a twofer

I know I already posted today, but I have to tell you - I just got a call at work from a lady asking for "Mr or Mrs Productions." Man, her job must really suck.

Going Egypt

The Egypt trip is less than a week away. The details are insane. The politics are unbelievable. The whining is unstoppable. And the second-guessing is driving me postal.

(I should note here that the planning is going exceptionally well and that my complaints are over the minor, inconsequential button pushing I've experienced).

One of the most difficult logic puzzles we've had to solve is with the packs. It got more complicated when we were handed our key prop this week - a 72" stick. Our longest bag is 35". Yes, we considered ski bags. Yes, we considered every other option you're thinking right now.

So I brought it to a pool cue maker, 'cause lots of those come apart in the middle, right? (Brilliant, I know - it wasn't my idea).
"I'm here today to win the prize for most random request of the day. Can you cut this stick, promise not to split it, and make it so I can put it back together? It's gotta be strong enough to be a walking stick and it can't look like it was cut."

I was expecting him to ponder the opportunity, maybe offer a wise crack.

I wasn't expecting him to say, "Why don't you just get a bigger bag?"

And I am positive he wasn't expecting me to turn into the Hulk and have my vein pop out of my forehead or my eyes to go blood shot, either. The good news is, he is now "happy" to help.

It's official

Even to the naked eye, there is more grass visible in my yard than snow.
Just the thought of such a miracle makes me want to skip.
(And yes, I did actually finish that sentence - it makes me want to skip, like skip-to-my-lou).
Spring is definitely "around the corner" - the "it's only 34 degrees out, but at least the sun is shining" corner.
I see walks to the park, flip flops, ice cream cones, and fireworks in my future.
Oh yeah, and neighbors. I miss them when we all hibernate.

it's not for free

The last thing Troy said to the group of us assembled to bid them farewell at the airport was the traditional benediction - Numbers 6:24-26. And then he asked for prayer - because it's not for free that they answer God's call on their life. Satan won't just stand by and let them impact a Muslim country.

I don't know how far in advance Troy prepared those words, but I think they're perfect. I can't even imagine better words.

I want to write them down here, so I remember them and so that maybe they bless you in some way and so that you can maybe say a prayer for my sister & brother (I'm so over the "in-law" crap) as they begin this incredible journey.

The phrase "it's not for free" has been echoing in the caverns of my brain ever since. I have a lot of thoughts on this. The most coherent one is this: what's the cost? I have to believe God expects more out of me than just accepting the fact that he called my family to live on the other side of the globe. So what does he expect? What decisions do I make each and every single day that accept his call or deny it? How long can I live life assuming my faith is free? What opportunities to sacrifice have I ignored?

It's not for free...

an attempt at optimism

I've been trying to come up with something upbeat, happy, or just plain witty to post. It's been a challenge. I could gush about my husband, who is hands down the best thing that's happened to me since potty training. But it's hard to do that and not just get braggadocious.

At the risk of being a total weinie, here's my happy post:

To you, this may just look like evidence that our animals do in fact rule our household.
To me, there are five distinct things about this picture that make me happy:
1. My animals. (2/3 of them at least). I love them more than I think I probably should.
2. My animals getting along. Not just cohabitating, but actually seeking each other out.
3. No flash used in this picture, folks. That's actual sunshine coming through the windows. Isn't it glorious?
4. It's a picture of my favorite pastime - sleep. Not just sleep, but napping. Talk about glorious.
5. My husband-of-the-year snapped this picture while he was home cleaning the house. That includes dusting and laundry. Who could ask for more?

and of course it's leap year

I have always hated February.
Maybe it's just Michigan, but February sucks. Most years, it's not still winter, but it's not yet spring. Christmas is a vague memory, and spring break seems like an eternity away. It's cold, grey, and even the snow is brown. And bad crap always happens in February.

Let it be known, 2008 is no exception.
My husband's unemployed, my best friend's brain's been swollen for four weeks, my cousin died, my grandma has cancer, and my sister-in-law, her husband, and my unborn nephew are leaving for the other side of the world next Friday (not exactly unexpected, but it sure happened quick).

As this is my outlet to say such things, I'm here to say ENOUGH!

Creepy start to the week

Nothing like 369 pages printing themselves that say nothing but your name, from some phantom source, to make you want to turn around and go right back to bed on a Monday morning, eh?

Answered Prayer - the irrereverent kind

Working with "creatives" has its perks.
From my inbox yesterday:

Sweet dear toddler baby Jesus,

We thank you for creating days with those tiny, cute little fingers of yours that are attached to chubby little baby fat arms wrapped in cloths with a ray of sunshine mysteriously emanating from behind your head. We appreciate the decision to make days 24 hours long. It gives us more time to work our fingers raw, pull our hair out, scratch the retinas of our eyeballs, and generally put sweat equity into everything we do. But if there is anyway to make this day go faster, like with a magical mystical cute baby sneeze, or cute baby Jesus giggle, we'd greatly appreciate it. We desperately need a Friday cute baby Jesus.

In your name,
Amen

feminism - the angry kind

I don't consider myself a feminist in the flaming liberal sense. But there are some days where I think if I were, I'd probably be in jail. Like today.

Went to see the new doctor today. No more driving to GR, time to find a local.

So there I was filling out the contact information form.
They ask about me, then my spouse (including SSN), then my emergency contact information.

So I filled K's details in as the emergency contact and went to the window and said, "You don't really need me to repeat all this spouse information, do you?"

"Well, yes - we need it for insurance."

Umm... no you don't.

Oh! Is the insurance in your name?!

The shock! The awe! It was dumbfounding.
And why doesn't the form ask me for the insurance holder's information, rather than just assume it's my husbands?!

Fast forward to the lab.

"Still live at your house?"
Yep.
"Married?"
Yep.
"Is he employed?"
Pause. Well... actually, as of Friday... no. Wait. Why does that matter?
"Are you employed FULL time?"
Yes.
"So you have insurance, then??"

Why the hell is this so hard to believe? Do you really think that if my dear husband hadn't come and swept me off my feet to care for my every need that I wouldn't have insurance?

I'm sure the lab tech saw the fury in my eyes and instantly regretted her line of questioning. And I'm pretty sure it won't change a dang thing.

And to be perfectly honest, I'm pretty sure it won't bother me tomorrow.

And another thing

A wall isn't security, either.

Security

I remember the first time my sense of security was actually truly rattled. I was in elementary school and I walked in on my parents talking - my mom was in tears and I heard her say, "Sure, but not in my own backyard!" They were reading the newspaper.

I snuck back to the stash of papers later on and tried to read about something that happened on my street. But as I found no article or police log with my address on it, thought it best to just drop it.

But it stuck with me.
Am I really safe? If not, can my parents really protect me? They're not actually superhuman, after all.

The next time my security blanket pealed away like an onion was when I got my driver's license. I considered myself a good driver and hitting the road still carried with it the sense of freedom every 16 year old feels. But it was also the first time I ever felt truly alone. I remember thinking "I could die in this car, alone." The thought didn't terrify me or keep me up at night, but it made me aware that as long as I was driving, there was no one else taking responsibility for my well being.

And then I went to college. Aside from junior high, I would consider college the most insecure time in my life. It's not just about body image, it's about what's next? what matters? who am I? who do i want to be? is it too late to be that person? will people love that person? I could go on...

Up until I graduated from college, I felt like life was a process of peeling away all the layers of security I thought I had since birth. Everything from giving up the Linus blanket to dad telling me to "deal with it yourself" after my first speeding ticket. Life is about learning to deal, make it on your own, work it out.

Post college, I stepped up.
I got a job. Take that, security-robbers. I have a paycheck.
I had friends. Booya. People love me.
I got a husband. Even better. He promised to love me forever. Now that's security.
And a house - a roof, a yard, neighbors - they're all mine and they're there to prove I matter.

I was wrong.
Security is none of these.
It's not parents, or husbands, or people for that matter. It's not status or belongings. It's not even blankies with silk on the edges.
It's faith.
It's confidence that things are under control because I am not in control.
The rest of that crap is just smoke and mirrors.
And I was right about the peeling away part - that stuff all has to go so we can see security.
And security doesn't mean being sure of tangible things at all. It's a lot scarier than that.
But it's much, much more real.

You know it's cold when...

Came to work this morning to find the door frozen shut and frost on the inside. I think hell must be cold and wet.

Good Times, mmm

Friday night was girls night.
Or shall I say Girlz Nite - 'cause it was off the hook and if something is really cool, you shouldn't spell it correctly.
5 hours.
One location.
Three sleeping children.
Two pizzas and one big fat order of Shweaty Balls.

Friday was one of those nights when I think to myself, "There is absolutely no reason for this to be so much fun."
Friday was evidence of the fact that my "care group friends" are really just my friends now. And that's fo' shizzle.
Friday was the night when I got to order pizza and "those doughy, greasy ball-things you guys have on the menu" and then giggle like I'm in 7th grade.
Friday reminded me just how important community is. And how easily a group of girls without a ton in common can make you feel right at home.
I can't help but picture us all in mumu's, eating cheesecake and double daring each other to order those Shweaty Balls.
And that makes me smile all the way into Monday.

Meet my friend Wassa

Not everyone my age owns their own business.
Or writes really well.
Or knits really fast.
Or fully embraces the Three C's of you-know-what.
Or has such a cool nickname.
But Wassa does.

Thanks for writing, Melis. And for including the bit about Jer. You're hilarious. And if you're not careful, you'll end up published.

I added a new blog

Beautiful Baby Abbie has her own blog!
Peer pressure works.
Wassa, I have a feeling you're secretly writing wonderful things... if a six week old can go live - so can you!!!! C'mon! Join the club!!!

People are captivating

This proves it.

My excuse

Haven't been blogging much lately. Mostly 'cause my journals have been the private type. Does everyone enter a bit of a funk post-Christmas, or is it just my overly-Christmas-enthused self? Not a sad funk, per se. I think it has more to do with the fact that I'm not very good with change, or closure, and a new year sort of means both.

That said, my boss has also decided that he's going to produce a feature length film, starting in three weeks. We should wrap just in time to leave for 25 days in Egypt. Lord help us. So if you want to hang out with me, or catch up, or whatever, I think I'm pretty free towards the end of April.

The evidence

I took these partly because few things happen in my life that don't make me think "I could blog this." And partly because at the time, I wasn't sure if we'd have to file some sort of claim or not. Adrenaline always makes me jump to the worst case scenario!

The smell is mostly gone now. Odoban ROCKS!