A Bright Light...

One year ago today we welcomed our sweet baby #2 into this world.  At 8:35am we were told "It's another girl!"  K doesn't know it, but we arranged with my OB to have her born via c-section on this day for a reason.  This was my father's birthday.  We all felt this was a way to honor him. 

 

The irony is over the last year, we joke that she has a lot of personality like he did-I believe she has a special connection to him, even though she's never met him.  Our sweet K was a bright spot in a long and trying year.  On  July 21, 2013 we were reminded of the circle of life.  It's hard to put into words emotions on a day like today.  So many "firsts" over the last year....her first smile, giggle, crawl, food, even steps.  She is my bundle of joy and energy, yet she is also my snuggle bug.  Yet also all the firsts of life without daddy.  We seem to all finally have settled into new routines and have found the new normal at holidays and birthdays.  I am thankful I've had the summer off to truly enjoy these moments with both my girls and have just finished 10 days of my mom being with us.  My heart is full....Happy Birthday K and Happy Heavenly Birthday Daddy!

 

Life in 3D: The In Between

So RJ and I had been reading this book about a momma panda at the zoo. She was pregnant and the zoo keepers said they could tell she was getting close to having the baby because she stopped leaving her cave and started sleeping all the time. All I could think about was how much I could relate to that momma panda (and how much I wished I had a cave). I too had stopped leaving my house and used every spare moment to steal a nap. I also stopped answering my phone, cooking, cleaning, niceties, and pretty much everything else. I'm trying to remember if I even bathed the kids the last month. Pregnancy at 34 is no joke. I felt like I was 104.

But, as most of you know, KH was born on May 7th at 1:41 pm and weighed in at 9 lbs 14 oz. (I am woman hear me roar.) He is beautiful and he is perfect and he is mine. So then I spent the next (hate to say it) 2 months lying in bed snuggling. I am not kidding. Many a day I would get up and send the kids to day camp only to return to bed with my baby and not move for the rest of the day. I jealously guarded my time with him. I am painfully aware that this very well may be my last newborn and I am soaking up every possible moment with him. For those of you who have seen Lord of the Rings picture me in bed as Gollum cradling my baby hissing "My Precious" at anyone who tries to steal a moment from me.

It's weird- the newborn phase. Everything is hazy from the lack of sleep and the hormones and the lack of sleep. It's like you're not even a real person. I exist solely for the sustenance and protection of this child. This tiny, perfect, helpless little being that I created. It very much is living in between. Between pregnancy and being a real human being again. It probably took me a month to even notice my husband was still living in the house. At which point I could see in his eyes the desperation to return to a normal life. He wanted his wife back. But I wasn't ready to be back yet.

Don't get me wrong I was fulfilling my basic duties. I picked the kids up and took them to the library. I managed to get dinner on the table- at least for them- every night. I finally potty trained DC (well, mostly). I dealt with a lice outbreak (holy hell that's a story for another time). I cooked and cleaned and folded mountains of laundry. We had birthday parties, school programs, and swim lessons. There were 4th of July fireworks, Dinosaur exhibits, cheer camp and our first ER visit. But most of it was still going through the motions.

And so now here I am with a 10 week old and I am just starting to be human again. Although my two favorite hobbies are staring at my baby and counting the ounces of breastmilk in the deep freeze  I am trying. I have even enjoyed a few beers with my husband. Despite the fact that *gasp* that meant I had to pump and dump that liquid gold down the drain. I am starting to venture out again although I warn you I somehow manage to bring breastfeeding into every conversation. I usually follow that up with a conversation about pooping in the potty (or lack thereof).

I have noticed people backing away from me as I steer their innocent "How have you been?" into a full on discussion of my freezer stash. But I don't care. This is where I am right now and if you don't want to talk feeding schedules, lactation, or poopy swim my diapers (which are straight from the devil) then I suggest you just wave and act like you're getting a phone call. I've got 4 weeks left of maternity leave. Four short weeks until I will be forced to at least pretend like a member of society. Four glorious weeks to love my babies and enjoy the extra time with them. Until then, if you need me, you can find me with my head in the deep freeze calculating the exact number of days we have stocked or dreamily staring at my baby.

-Ashford

One year later.......

It's here.  That day so many people said would come..and somehow they all said "it gets easier" or "the first year is the hardest".  Somehow, the last few weeks I have found myself disagreeing with that statement more and more.  One year ago today my father went home to heaven.  It still feels like it was yesterday-the emotions are as raw as they were that day, if not somehow even more raw now.  It seems like the last year has been somewhere between denial and lost somewhere in between.  I haven't taken his name out of my contacts on my phone because that would just be too permanent.  We've made it through all the "firsts"-which we have been dealing with on two different levels...the "first" words, steps, smiles of our sweet baby girl and the "first" holidays, birthdays, and regular days without daddy.  I've tried over the last 2 weeks to do things that would honor daddy.  I've cut the grass the way he taught me (which is no small feat for this grass allergic woman) and spent time with some of his favorite people.  Big Daddy celebrated with a Mcdonalds Fish Sandwich (which was his choice for his first meal home from the hospital). 

Grief is a funny thing.  For so many years, I've worked helping others deal with their grief without really understanding what they feel.  I've made the statement, "oh it will get easier...it just takes time".  But I'm pretty sure I've made a commitment to myself to never say that statement to a client again because I disagree with it.  I'm not sure it gets easier, in fact I think it gets downright harder.  The days turn into weeks, which turn into months, and slowly it becomes harder to hold on to the memories.  They lose clarity and they start to get fuzzy.  I watch our oldest child and I have thought so much lately about how long it will take her to lose her memories of her poppy.  Sure she can tell stories now, but time will continue to move forward and unfortunately they will become blurry.  She will only remember what we tell her about him.  And the baby, well.... she will only know what we tell her about him.  How is it that that makes it get easier?? 

To mark this milestone, my mother planned a small barbeque with the people who meant so much to daddy.  Today we celebrated and cried/laughed over stories about him.  I was reading an article the other day which was talking about "preachers kids" and the bad reputation they often get as the "wild ones".  But today I was reminded that we are actually the lucky ones.  We are lucky because our parent ministers to so many people throughout our life and in turn, we have one heck of an extended family.  They give back to us in ways that I never fully appreciated until I have traveled this journey with mom.  I watched in awe today as friends gathered, just as they did last year to celebrate daddy and more importantly love and comfort my mom.  

Last year for the funeral, I made a video to honor daddy and all of the areas of his life.  I invite you to watch and meet the man we loved so much and still miss dearly.  I watched it again today and I was reminded of how much fun daddy was and how much of his personality I do have.  One year later, I still am reminded of how much joy he had despite the scars that Vietnam left on him.  Truly he was a hero-more importantly he was OUR hero. 

When life gives you S@8#!

So I've been in a black hole-somewhere between hanging by a thread and trying to stay afloat.  On March 6, I was involved in a situation at work where my safety was threatened in a pretty severe way.  Of course I can't talk about it much (which is problematic for a "feeler" like me who has to talk to process).  In all my years as a social worker, I've never felt what I did that day.  I've sat face to face with kids who have in cold blood killed another person, but never was I afraid or felt threatened.  On March 6, I was afraid-we believe that someone had full intentions of hurting me if they could have found me.  I walked in the door at home that night after a heart wrenching discussion with my boss and by the time I got in the door, I fell to pieces in tears.  The poor Nanny was probably completely caught off guard, but the moment I saw my two precious girls I was broken.  A thousand questions raced through my mind.  So for two months now, I have been an emotional wreck.  The situations at work just keep coming and I feel like I am constantly looking over my shoulder at my surroundings.  I've had to sit in meetings and retell my story over and over and over.  And as I said earlier, I'm a "feeler".  I have to think and then talk, and do that over and over until I've processed fully my thoughts/emotions.  My supervisor tells me I have to stop stressing so much about it, but each day I return to work I have to deal with it again.  You don't really know the impact your career choice has on you, until someone questions you and your judgement or attacks your professional license.  I know I did everything I was supposed to do and did it very well, but it doesn't change the fact that people question.  People see and hear what they want to. 

At the same time all of this is going on, Big Daddy was under the most stress of his professional career in a new position with unrealistic demands placed on him.  SK had surgery on her ear and in typical fashion, it didn't quite go as planned.  Baby K was under weight and we were back and forth to the specialist in Greenville.  More bills came in the mail each day and it felt like we were drowning.  The dates with each other were less and less and any time we had together was usually when we were sleeping.Each day, it was like more and more crap was piling up on us and it was harder and harder to survive.  I would go to church and hear very pointed sermons where I felt like God was speaking to me, (our new minister preached an awesome sermon on how suffering leads to endurance which leads to character which leads to hope) but I would go home and somehow no matter what I heard I just couldn't believe those words.  We were beat down.

But last week, I had sort of an aha moment.  I was giving K a bath before bedtime.  I was getting ready to scrub the nasty cradle cap off her head and she looked at me with a very serious face.  I looked at her and said, "what is wrong...why are you so serious?"  and before I knew it, she looked up at me, and I realized that there was poop floating to the top of the bath water-and a lot of it.  and then she GIGGLED-the loudest giggle she has ever done.  And in that moment, I laughed and suddenly I realized, no matter how much S@*#  life gives us, sometimes the best thing you can do is giggle.  I need to stop stressing so much and laugh a lot more. Some expert somewhere said that laughter is the best medicine and they must be on to something.   And so with that, a new day has dawned in our house.  (and yes, she got another bath after the first bath!) 

 

How Bell's Palsy, Breaking Bad, & Baby #3 saved my marriage.

So it did. It happened to us. We got caught up in the busyness of marriage which led to only the business of marriage.

"Can you take the trash out?"

"Did you give the dogs their medicine?"

"Have you paid the power bill?"

"Can you pick the kids up from school tomorrow?"

"I will be out of town Wednesday next week, are you out of town the following Tuesday?"

"Call your Dad and wish him Happy Birthday."

"Can you deposit your paycheck?"

These were our nightly conversations. After working all day (usually out of town), scrambling home to get the kids before the school turned the lights out, getting them fed, bathed, and in bed. Then time for me to cook dinner for us, and to feed the dogs, and take them out, and then clean up their poop (because they are wretched wretched dogs who don't like to go in the grass and much prefer my living room rug), then to wash the dishes, and then finally was it time to talk. But that's when we had to handle the business and the logistics of the household. And by that point well frankly I'm spent and it's all I can do to pull on my sweatpants and grab the remote just to zone out and relax for an hour before going to bed.

I know I'm preaching to the choir here and that many of us are in the exact same situation (or have been at one point). But before you know it it's all you do. There seems to be no time for fun or conversations or "How was your day?" There's no end in sight to the monotony and the chores and the laundry. I began focusing on the inequities in our marriage (both perceived and real). I started keeping score- "well I changed 5 poopy diapers this week and emptied the diaper genie the last 3 times." It was a dangerous road and I knew it but I was barreling down it without the brakes getting angrier and angrier.

Our conversations became shorter and the questions about responsibilities more pointed. You could feel the acid dripping off of my words. I became a yeller. I was tending to the kids largely by myself and they could sense my exasperation. Like sharks smell blood in the water- they sensed my weakness and pounced. Each day was an absolute struggle.

This was around the time I found out I was pregnant. It wasn't an accident but it was definitely a surprise. "Great," I thought. "I guess we are gonna have to work this out." This was truly my mindset at the time. But I will say baby #3 gave us a goal. Something to work toward. My monotony was going to change in a big way in the next year.

And then hubby got a cold.

Now I know I don't have to go into the tirade about men and their ailments and what infants they become when they have the sniffles. We all know how they act. Well my resentfulness just began to fester and grow as he retired to the bedroom to lay down while I struggled through bath time and bedtime alone. In the mornings he (in my mind) refused to get out of bed while I took out the dogs, got both kids up, fed them both, dressed them both, took the dogs out, AND got myself ready all the while fighting the morning sickness that plagued me 24 hours a day. By day 3 I couldn't even look at him. I was seething. Thank goodness I had an overnight trip planned that week- if I didn't get away from him I may have smothered him in his sleep.

I returned late the next night and we exchanged courtesies and went about covering the business of the night. It wasn't until I was getting ready for bed that I noticed he looked a bit different. His eyes were bloodshot and there was something about his face that just seemed off...

When I questioned I was shocked to find out that he had lost all feeling in the right side of his face. He had gone to the doctor and had been diagnosed with Bell's Palsy. Well, that sure did send me into a panic. I was googling and researching and making phone calls. I was concerned with the fact that he hadn't even mentioned it to me. Was this how bad things had gotten between us? Sadly it took a scary diagnosis to thaw my heart even a little bit.

Slowly over the next several days we began talking more and more. I asked each day about his progress. By the end of the week we were cracking jokes together and laughing at his predicament. The laughing only led to more laughing as he could only move half of his face and so he looked quite ridiculous.

As we laughed together I realized how long it had been since we had had fun. I was reminded of a conversation we had some months back where we tried to come up with things we had in common other than the kids. We tried and tried but really struggled with this task. We had begun dating when I was just 19 years old and we realized we had both grown up into two quite different people. Sadly, after 20 minutes of conversation there were only two things we could agree that we both liked. 1. The cheese dip at the Melting Pot and 2. a cold Bud Light on a hot summer night.

No wonder we were having a hard time.

Over Christmas break we got Netflix and began watching Breaking Bad. We had heard all the buzz and wanted to see what all the hype was about. Well, after one episode we were hooked. We watched episode after episode until it was 2 am!! It became a kind of obsession and every night we worked together to get all of our chores done as quickly as possible so we could climb into bed and find out what would happen next. We had found something in common again.

Slowly but surely as I grew bigger and the feeling came back to hubby's face we could feel the difference. Things had changed. We were a team and we enjoyed being with each other again. We remembered that we are people and not just worker bees and caregivers. A sweetness and an intimacy reentered our marriage. I was happy to be here again. Funny enough the better our relationship got the calmer I was. The calmer I was the less I yelled. The less I yelled the better the kids behaved. And the better the kids behaved the calmer I was. I felt like we found the sweet spot once again.

I have to admit as we started the final season of Breaking Bad I began to get anxious. As we watched the last episode I was gripped with fear that it would all slip away. What would we do now? Would we go back to the way things were?! I began feeling a little desperate. (Silly, I know but remember I have raging pregnancy hormones so I'm entitled to a touch of crazy now and again.)

I am proud to admit that my fears were in vain and we are still in that happy place. Don't get me wrong it's not all unicorns and rainbows but it's so much more than business. And thanks to The Walking Dead we still have a mutual obsession.

1999

2014   

-Ashford

Nailed it: Parenting Edition

As we got strapped into the car from preschool the other day I took a moment to read yet another "ouch report" for DC (he gets one almost every day). As I was reading RJ timidly calls out from the backseat, "Mommy? Is that the note from Ms Lisa?"


I immediately bristled. RJ has NEVER gotten a note home...Ever. "No honey. Was Ms Lisa going to send a note home today?"


She stared at the floor and sheepishly replied, "She said she was gonna."


My adrenaline began pumping and I could hear the blood beginning to rush in my ears. I tried to remain calm so as not to alert RJ to the impending danger. "Why was she going to send a note home honey?" I tried to sound as natural as I could.


She sunk lower in her carseat and mumbled "Because I was being disrespectful."


And without another word I jumped out of the running car (still parked in car line) and bolted into the front office leaving both kids helplessly strapped into their carseats. (Just for the record the front office was only about 10 feet away from my car and I could see them through the plate glass doors.)


"Did Ms Lisa leave a note for me before she left for the day?" I demanded.


After a few minutes of searching and coming up empty I decided to handle it in the morning. I returned to the car to question RJ the whole way home.


"I don't knowwwwwwwww what I did wrong," she kept protesting.


I will spare you the play by play but I'm sure you can fill in the blanks.


"Fine," I said. "Then until you can 'remember' exactly how it was that you were disrespectful to your teacher you will have no TV and no iPad." (She has quite the affinity for watching German and Korean cartoons on YouTube on my iPad.)


Of course this was met with screams of protest and enough tears that I thought we may need life jackets before making it to the house. However, I stood my ground. I refused to be manipulated and that type of behavior (disrespecting your elders) will not be tolerated in my house.


The rest of the evening was quite the battle as DC was allowed to watch TV and RJ was quarantined to the kitchen straining to hear the sounds of the cartoons playing in the den. I continued to question her throughout the evening but each time she was adamant that she "didn't know" what she did wrong.


That's fine I thought. We'll get the real story in the morning.


The next morning I hunted down Ms Lisa in the gym- RJ sheepishly trailing behind me, head hung, staring at the floor.


"Did you need to talk to me about yesterday?" I blurted out to Lisa as soon as I saw her.


She looked at me perplexed and didn't say anything. I could see her eyes searching for an answer.


I relayed what RJ had told me about being disrespectful and busting herself about the note that was supposed to come home.


Without missing a beat Ms Lisa burst out laughing. "No no no!!! That was another child! RJ saw me writing the note and asked about it but she didn't do anything wrong!!"


RJ looked up at us with a timid glimmer of hope in her eyes.


"Sweetie, you didn't do anything wrong yesterday! You are just fine! Now go play with your friends," Ms Lisa encouraged.


And there you have it. Yet another instance of my flawless parenting...you're welcome.

-Ashford

momversation hearts

So its Valentines Day.  I have put one child to bed and the other is ready but laying here watching a movie.  We've been cooped up inside for 3 days thanks to snowpacalypse 2014.  So Ive finally poured a glass of wine.  I kind of wish I could tell my 22 year old self that Valentines really is just another day.  I love Big Daddy and we have an awesome relationship, but we just arent really into Valentines.  We are one of those wierd sappy couples who try to celebrate our love at least weekly.  But I digress and probably make you sick with that.

Sk and I made vday cookies today-so we wouldnt all go stir crazy.  I had bought conversation hearts for her class but desperate times called  for desperate measures.  I let her plaster them all over iced sugar cookies.  (SUGAR OVERLOAD TODAY).  But those tiny little hearts started me thinking......who comes up with the sayings?!?

It led to a conversation with Ashford.  What is those crazy little hearts said what moms across America are thinking as they strive to make the perfect pinterest inspired cards for the classroom exchange.  Wouldnt life be a little more enjoyable if they said, "dont eat boogars" or "stop picking your nose"? Or "no feet on the baby";  "because I said so"; "wipe your own ass"; "use your fork".  Maybe even "are you listening?", "you flushed what?", "you got poop where?", "dont put that in your mouth", "we'll see", or "use your big girl voice".  Of course there is "we're late", "need sleep", BE QUIET!", and "sit still".  The irony is that as i type these, Im realizing that they might actually be appropriate for the kids AND the husband!!

So enjoy the romance this Valentines Day.  Im off to contact Brachs regarding their next big seller for Valentines!!

-Ziggy