One Day at a Time

I hope you appreciate all the adorable cuteness posted here.



Discovering lips






Coming home!



Baby Smiles




It's taken me 3 days to get to add more pictures. We got home Sunday, and I didn't have the strength to pull pictures off the card. Yesterday, I tried to use Eric's laptop, but the buttons are so tiny, I did something, and thought I LOST the picture I was trying to post. And when I looked and the picture had disappeared, shortly after I had deleted an error, I thought I deleted it, and I called for Eric, who was playing in the Big Boy Room with Chris. I got up and went to change Sam's diaper, and he'd blown through his outfit, so I change him into this adorable little Classic Pooh number, but I couldn't get the zipper to zip up.

I burst into tears.

This of course, hurt like hell, and I ended up collapsing over Sam's little body on the changing table. Eric is yelling from the other room that he can't undo a deleted item and that if I did delete it, it's GONE. I'm crying. Poor Sam is crying. This would be one of those hormonal moments that peppers postnatal life.
Eric came to relieve me, and when he couldn't get the zipper to work either, for some reason I felt better. Better being Not Crazy.
Sam and I moved to nurse on the couch, while Daddy found some Undeleting Software, and after a couple hours of computer magic he found the picture, which somehow I had just moved, NOT deleted. It was rough. I opted to not bother with blogging or picture posting for a while.

This was the troublesome picture. Just as troublesome to post it as the hat was to poor Samuel.


This afternoon however, Samuel fell asleep in the swing, he's on his second hour now, of his second 2 hour nap of the day, the first I napped along with him, and now I got motivated enough to do pictures. However, thinking I'm brilliant, I decide to venture downstairs and not even go near Eric's computer. Well, first I discover, I'd let my meds run out, and retook them before I headed downstairs. That hurt. I got down here and quickly realized I was going to be here for a WHILE, until I get the strength to go back upstairs again. Hope Sam sleeps a while. I get this Burning on my incision. All I can cry out, is My Scar Hurts. Eric says, oh are you having a Harry Potter Moment?
Yes.
I finally get downstairs to my computer, and all my lovely photos, and the computer is broken. It's not working. I can feel the tears coming, I'm going to lose it again. I call out to Eric, Please come down, in a nearly crying vibrato. He does. I say, I know I'm a woman on the edge, and I'm sure it's something really easy, but the computer isn't working.
Yes, dear. It's off.

He turned it on, and I burst into tears anyway.

Then it was taking forever to load up, and I called him down again, he said apparently it decided it was going to do some updates. Well, that clenched it, I was Not going to be doing pictures today either. So, I got up and turned around and was halfway across the room before my pain receptors realized what I'd done. Then I screamed and cried, freaking out Chris (who'd come downstairs to "keep me company" which really meant he was reorganizing the DVDs and VHS tapes) and Daddy came running. I tried to go up the stairs, but couldn't lift my left leg, and ended up collapsing in a heap at the bottom of the stairs. Chris asked me if I was "be a tat?" (be a cat) because I collapsed right in front of the cat door. No. I told him my tummy hurt. He asked if I needed a hug. Yes.
And ironically, his hug did make me feel better.
By the time I got back on my feet, Eric pointed out that the computer had rebooted and was on, ready for use. So, here I am plopped in front of it.
And I'm not moving, until a. my drugs kick in, or b. I get all the pictures posted I want or maybe c. Samuel wakes up.

My Sweety Sweet Boy

Samuel Elijah Willman was born March 26, 2009 at 7:55 a.m. weighing 7 pounds, 1/2 ounce, and 20 1/2 inches.

Everybody wants to see pictures of the new baby. So here you go!





Happy Family!






Some recent pictures of Sam.

Mostly Wordless Wednesday

A couple of pictures to describe these lovely days.



My crocuses, very happy!



Flews and Flowers



Fina curling up with Chris's stuffed Curious George. It's a good thing this was done during his naptime, else he would've objected...highly.

Book Em

We just scheduled the Baby's C-section to be Friday, March 27th.

Initially, last week, my doctor told us that she'd call the scheduling nurse, and before I eve got home from my appointment, they had called and informed Eric that 7:30 on Monday the 30th wouldn't work, so they put me in for 11:30 a.m. I was like, what? I was going to TALK to them.

Keep in mind, I don't really want a c-section. I am much more partial to having this baby the old-fashioned way. But my cervix does not want to cooperate. My doc asked about our schedule, and we agreed, having the baby in March, while Chris is on spring break would just be easier for all involved. So, then we were scheduled for Monday.
Once Eric and I got to actually talk about it, we realized we'd be sitting on our bonbons all weekend prior, so why not be sitting on our bon bons IN THE HOSPITAL and Eric could just take half a day Friday and we do it in the afternoon, and then the following week he'd be off and home for us to be together as a family...theoretically. So, I called back to reschedule. We played lots of phone tag. They just called me back today, and we are on the schedule for Friday.
Then, instead of Eric taking a half day, he's going to need to take the whole day, because I need to report at 9:30 with the surgery being at 11:30 again theoretically. AND here's the really fabulous thing, I am NPO as of midnight Thursday night, that means, I can't eat or drink anything.
That won't be fun. I get queasy at 8 a.m. if I don't take my Protonix. I'm more likely to puke NOT eating anything than if I do.

It's like on one hand, we're getting what we wanted. Sort of. Then again, we're not.

Like I said, it's the weirdest bunch of feelings. I'm excited...because WOW our baby is coming. Woo hoo! And at the very latest, he'll be here Friday! Then again, I'm scared. It's major surgery. Even if I have been there done that. It hurts. Then again, it should be easier than last time around because I won't be as sleep deprived, having labored for 24 fabulously chemically induced hours before they realized Christopher was transverse and had to go in to go Get Him. They also had given me into narcotics, swearing they'd be out of my and baby's systems, and they thought it would be simply AGES before he was born, since I was only dilated to 1. The drugs rendered me stupid and mostly unconscious for about the first 5 hours after Chris was born. That's not going to happen this time. That's a perk.

It's the weirdest feeling, scheduling one's birthday. We have literally chosen what day for the rest of this baby's life that we will celebrate his birth. It's so strange. It's like God really has let me on the Miracle Planning. But that's a Blessing.

Kids Who Wave

The Little Boy Who Waves - by Michelle M. Guppy

On the first day of school, the yellow bus with the squeaky brakes stopped in front of our house. The attendant took my child's hand as he made his way up the steps into the bus. She told him, "Good morning! This is your seat." I stepped away from the door and went to the window where he was sitting. I tapped on the window, trying to get my son to look at me. He wouldn't. The fan on the dashboard had caught his attention, and there was no distracting him from that. I waved good-bye to him anyway.
As time went on, we had our routine down--both Brandon and I. I would guide him up the stairs of the bus, then go to the window to try to get him to look at me. He never would. I simply could not compete with the fan on the dashboard that fascinated him so. But I kept waving.
One day I noticed the other children sitting behind Brandon. One child would stare out the window as he was rocking back and forth. I wondered what he was thinking. He had such a serious, far-off, expression on his face. One morning I noticed another child a couple rows behind him. As I waved to my son, as the bus left, this particular child waved back. He was looking at me, waving and smiling.
And so began our new routine. Each morning after I would tap on the window and wave to my son, I would then turn and wave to this little boy. He actually appeared to be anticipating his turn to be "waved at".
That was our thing: every morning as the bus left, I would turn and wave to this little boy. I admit I am very jealous of this boy's mom. Every morning she gets a wave and a smile from her son--and my son doesn't even know I am there waving at him. Once my son gets on the bus, his focus turns to the fan on the dashboard. Yet this little boy I now wave at too gives me hope that someday my child might notice me and wave to me with a smile. It is a very bittersweet moment each morning, but it is a hopeful moment as well. Many mornings I have walked back into my house in tears, pleading with God to make my child more like that child.
One morning I woke up on the wrong side of the bed. After I grumpily handed my child off the teh attendant, I turned to go back inside. I didn't tap on the window to wave good-bye to my child--or anyone else's. As I got to my front door and was about to open it, something made me turn and look at the bus. There it was--a panic-stricken face pressed against the school bus window with a little hand waving frantically at me. A wave of guilt spread over me. I hastily stepped back and turned to wave back, but it was too late; I don't think the little boy who waves saw me.
Never again have I forgotten to wave to him. And I truly miss that little boy when he's not there to wave at me.
I was sick one morning, and my husband had to do the bus routine for me. As I was giving him instructions as to wahat to put in our son's backpack and so on, I told him about the little boy who waves in the 6th row--and made my husband promise me he wouldn't forget to wave at him.
"Why do you want me to wave at someone else's kid?" he asked me.
I didn't have the energy to explain my feelings to him right then. That the little boy was my hope, my inspiration, my prayer for my own son. That I do it because for that one moment, I imagine my son being the little boy who smiles and waves good-bye to me each morning. Instead I replied, "Just please..."
He said he would.
I would never trade my son for anyone else's. I thank God every day for my child and what he CAN do. But inside of me, I do long for the day when the "little boy who waves" could be mine.
Another school year came and went. The little boy in the 6th row was no longer on the bus, but still I waved at my son with the hope that he would wave at me. One day out of the blue, the attendant said to me, "You know, it's the cutest thing--whenever the bus starts moving, while your son is humming and watching the fan, he will hold his hand beside his leg and start opening and closing his fist like he is waving."
As it turned out, what I wished for most desperately for had been there all along. And if I had given up looking for it, I never would have found it. I learned a powerful lesson about hope that day: it does not disappoint. Never give up hope. Have faith, because what may seem impossible just may be possible.

I post this story from my Mommy Diaries book because it applies to Chris and I. Every morning when I put him on the bus I wave at him. When I was young, my parents rarely made it to the bus stop with me, and it meant a lot to me to see them out there waving. So, from the beginning, I would put Chris on the bus, turn, take two steps up the driveway for a better view, and wave to him again. Chris doesn't always sit in the same seat twice, so I have to search, if it's cloudy I can't see through the tinted windows to the other side where I suspect he is, but I wave just the same. And I would keep waving until the bus was gone and all the kids were out of my sight. So, yeah, I was waving to all the kids. One day I noticed this little girl, with Down's Syndrome sitting in the 3rd row, waving back at me, and smiling. She always sits on my side of the bus, and she waves back. There are a number of kids with Down's that ride Chris's bus, and though they've got problems, I've never met someone with Down's that doesn't have an extra helping of heart and the love that goes with it. I love it when that little girl waves at me. One day Fina accompanied us to the bus stop, and you should've seen that little girl wave and smile, and mouth the word puppy. It was so neat. I love waving at all the Amazing, Special kids on Chris's bus. I bring Fina out there more often now that the weather is nicer just to see them smile even more. One day I swear I saw this little girl mouth the words I love you. This story brought tears to my eyes on the one day the lady Didn't wave. When it's cold, I certainly would rather run inside than wave until I'm long since sure the kids can't see me, but I don't. I picture Chris and what if he was watching for me and DIDN'T see me, or that one little girl waving frantically as if I'd forgotten to wave and smile at her, and I just can't go in. I even told Eric just the other day, to make sure he waves to Chris and all the kids as they pull away. Just like this lady. However, unlike this lady, sometimes I am able to see Chris wave at me and it does give me hope, and make me smile, and in general just makes my day.

Lo, a crocus ere bloomin'

It's Spring, my crocuses are in bloom, and in spite of crazy false labor contractions and a cooler temperature outside than yesterday (though not that we're going out to play in it regardless)....it's a beautiful day.

A New Theory

I'm working on a new theory, so humor me and respond if you apply, agree, or disagree. There are two kinds of people in the world, those that sleep breathing through their mouths and those that sleep breathing through their noses.

Each one of these presents certain problems. For example, if you're a mouth breather, you are more prone to snoring....again accordingly to my running theory. Snoring sometimes so loud they can wake themselves up! And since your mouth is wide open, it gets dry, morning breath-y. Chapped lips can happen, often too. I theorize also down the road, mouth breathers (big deep snorers) also are more likely to end up with Sleep Apnea. These people can fall asleep anywhere and often do.

Meanwhile, nose breathers, don't snore as much, usually. But they can make very obnoxious whistling noises while sleeping just as likely to drive their spouses nutsy. And when they have a cold, it's like the world is ending, because suddenly they have to switch hit. Two words: Snot bubbles. And a nose breather trying to sleep by mouth breathing is terrible, because suddenly they are drooling, or ending up with dry mouth themselves, or snoring great deep snores. Or just plain can't get comfortable.

God Bless You if you are in a "mixed marriage".

Sums up my day

The Meaning of Life
by Nancy Fitzgerald

There is a moment just before
a dog vomits when its stomach
heaves dry, pumping what's deep
inside the belly to the mouth.
If you are fast you can grab
her by the collar and shove her
out the door, avoid the slimy bile,
hunks of half chewed food
from landing on the floor.
You must be quick, decisive,
controlled, and if you miss
the cue and the dog erupts
en route, you must forgive
her quickly and give yourself
to scrubbing up the mess.

Most of what I have learned
in life leads back to this.

Happy St. Pat's Day!

A boy proud of his Irish heritage.



A Good Day to Party!



Showing off his new jewelry.

Confinement

I'm fairly certain the people that are driving me nutsy this morning don't read this blog, so I can safely gripe about it. We had a busy weekend. Hopefully our last one for a while. And it wasn't that the wingdings we participated were bad, it's just become clear that I'm Done with wingdings.
Friday morning, I had MOPS, and I Love it, I love bonding with the gals. But I was so tired just getting up and the boy and I dressed and out of the house, by the time I got there, all I could do was park myself in a chair and not do anything. I like being sociable and there were new moms I wanted to get to know better, and I just wasn't up to it. Then, as I was packing up to leave, getting all my goodies, as usual, I always leave with more than I come with. Eric had left the crockpot at church, so I've got that under one arm, and a half gallon of milk, and my papers, and one of the helpers stops me and wants to chat. Serious talk. Talk about her recent loss of a family member. I stood there, swaying, trying so hard to be polite. I wanted to be supportive, but I was so tired, and sore. Didn't she get the memo that I'm 9 1/2 months pregnant?!!!! She commented on it. I just stood there, trying to be polite, don't think I was very successful. I don't remember a single thing I said. I was just trying not to drop everything and fall down.

Blessedly the clock set me free, as I HAD to get home to meet the bus for Chris.

Saturday, we hosted for our church's progressive dinner. Which is Awesomely fun. I had never done anything like this until we started attending Messiah. But basically, you start out at someone's house, having appetizer snacks, then move on to a different home for the salad course, and then again for the main course, and then meet back at the church for mass desserts. There's lots of fun and fellowship, and occasionally (ok often) alcohol is involved. And let me tell you, the Lutherans can be a Fun Crew!
Anyway, when this year's dinner was scheduled, I was bummed, because we wouldn't be able to do it. We've hosted Appetizer for the last couple years, we have so much fun, but it's a lot of work. But Eric REALLY Wanted to. In fact, he talked me into it. There was one condition, That I NOT Lift a Finger to do anything. True to his word, I didn't have to do any work, by gum, he got it all done. I spent most of the latter half of last week worrying about it though. And by the time Saturday was done, I somehow managed to get good and exhausted.
Anyway, I got good and upset Saturday night, when Eric ran Chris over to the church, and there was NO Nursery care for this fellowship event. There has been the last couple years. Oh man, there for a minute I was good and steamed. But, as these things do, everything worked out...in minutes. Blessedly, I called a friend on Very Short Notice, and she took Chris for a couple hours. That was great, we didn't have Chris creating meyhem while we had a dozen people over. She couldn't have him all night, but it ended up being a good thing that I planned on cutting out early to go get Chris, because I started contracting at the end of the salad course. So, Chris and I came home, and I crashed on the couch, and just let Chris run wild playing on all the chairs set up in the living room, and let him eat a second dinner of Mike-Sell's Groovy Potato Chips while Daddy went to Main Course. Neither of us made it to dessert, which is probably best since it's not Eric's favorite course and I gave up Chocolate for Lent and , and the temptation would have been Too Terrible for me.
Hey, he ate.
Then yesterday, we went to Chris's friend's birthday party. I did great for a while but then the crowds made me really hot, like hot flashes hot. I could've done ok. I love watching the cuteness behave cutely. Except that the guest of honor's Grandmother made some really insensitive comments to me too. Even though she'd been giving me weird looks since I walked in the door, so she knew something was up. That's her way, and goodness knows I've heard some stories, but this time, I was on the receiving end. I guess after 3 years, I fit in enough. Nearly family?
You know, I'm 9 1/2 bloody months pregnant, when you hear I'm due in two weeks, it's Not a compliment to say, oh I couldn't even tell you were pregnant. That's just means you think I'm fat. This lump is Not Fat, and although I'm top heavy, and that hides a good deal, and it took 8 1/2 months before strangers were commenting, but come on!
I've EARNED this, by gum!

Anyway, then I got an email this morning, insensitive, that has just pushed me over the edge. It may not sound as bad in print as it was in person, but just trust me. I'm Done with People. Well, done with people that aren't close friends, and some family members. I am beginning to think that the Victorian's didn't have it too bad, stay home and not be social, put the mother-to-be into isolation, and don't be social until the baby is here. I love my family, but right now, I am very glad I can send Chris to school. There is something appealing about just staying home in my jammies all day, and never leaving the house.

God Bless the internet though, so a girl can be social without really being social, and so she can Vent!

The Tunnel

It's been one of those days, you know the "a lot of stuff happened and I cried all the way home" sort of days. I came home and lay down on the couch, and told Eric, I just feel like crying, and I don't know why. I had a yummy dinner out with my friend, and our kids were cute, crazy but cute. I just feel like crying.
"Maybe you did too much today."
Huh. I started replaying my day in my head...boy awake at 6, boy and I ready for day, boy on bus (that's enough to wear a girl out lately), MOPS, boy home, exhausted boy Not napping more than 45 minutes (consequently me neither-grrrr), take boy for haircut, post office, shopping at Jo-Ann's, and dinner out. No wonder my ankles are the size of treetrunks. Actually, our tree trunks may be smaller than my ankles at this point, and my "ankle-free" socks are digging into the overflow to top of foot. Who has swelling overflow. No wonder. Yeah, maybe I did too much today.
Then I started thinking, as I lay there. Do I hurt? Where? Then it hit me, where didn't I hurt? No where. Maybe that one last pinky knuckle or that one spot on my uppper lip. Everywhere else hurts. Not a specific pain, just dull achiness all around(except spine, that's always pretty pin-pointable).
Yeah, Eric was right. I did too much.

But there is a Light at the End of This Tunnel....

Spring Peepers

No I'm not talking about these guys. Though at this house, they are a big hit...we LOVE 'Em. It's about the only sugary thing Eric has a weakness for, not me I have many sugar weaknesses, but Peeps are one too. I wish I could go shopping right now..I'd stock up.



Don't they look scrumptious.


But that's not why I'm writing. Yesterday the temp crept into the 70s, then poof bam, it dropped 40 degrees overnight. The sun is out there trying to compensate, but just not bringing the temp up enough. Lovely sunny day though.
I ran out to the mailbox, ok waddled to the mailbox, and on my way back I saw these.

My crocuses are starting to bud!!



Happy Spring!

Ch 6. The Mommy Diaries

Well, it sad to say, this is the last chapter of this book that we're reading for our MOPS group. However, it seemed suitably appropriate that this chapter was on Hope, given how right now my whole being is hinging on the Hope within of this unborn child.

1. What are some of the hardest times during your mothering journey to trust that hope exists? When Chris was born. It's not like I'd done this mothering thing before so initially, when things started to fall apart, and they sent Chris to Riley and Eric went with him, I did ok. But then the next night, I was alone in my room, and it was quiet. Too quiet. I made them take the bassinet away. Then it got hard. Luckily, they let me go the next day. Then while he was in the NICU, we had a rough go of it. There for a while, it seemed like every time we talked to the doctor they would find something wrong with him. Christmas Eve was particularly hard that year, because that was the day that Christopher stopped breathing and turn blue for the second time in Daddy's arms. You wanna see NICU people run, stop breathing, that sends everyone running out of the woodwork; we didn't figure out until months later, he's got a morphine sensitivity, and it causes him to stop breathing. (Now, whenever we're asked if he's got an allergy, we say Morphine.) Here he'd just had surgery, and they were telling us we won't know how extensive his colon problems were going to be, or if he'll ever be able to be potty trained. But that day, he also flunked his hearing test. It just seemed like everywhere we turned, there was something else. Eric and I had gotten into the habit (a habit we often still keep) of stopping in the Riley Chapel every night to express our thankfulness and pray on our way to Ronald McDonald house, but that night I was not thankful, I was mad. Not in a never forgiving sort of way, just in an I don't understand why this had to happen to an innocent baby, for whom we'd tried for 4 years! (It was hard to remain strongly hopeful for that course of 4 years!) Mad at God, and I told Him so. The next day, Chris was pulled off his O/G feeding tube, and was able to drink from a bottle, and they put him in a my First Christmas outfit, and he didn't stop breathing at all.
There was HOPE. There is Always Hope.
Since that night of hitting bottom, it's much easier to take all the health issues that seem to come Chris's way and still remain hopeful. Failure to thrive my aunt fannie! I mean look at him, he looks and acts just like any other boy, he's not deterred...why should I be?

2. When life gets dark, is it hard for you to lean on hope for help? Why? It used to be before I grew to know God. But it's not now. God shines through the darkness, and He's easy to lean on, even if on occasion I get mad at him, I know he loves me, and that he understands why I'm upset, and just like with any other family member, I get mad, but He still loves me anyway, and I Him.

3. When have you seen hope in action, bringing you from a place of doubt to a place of promise? Ummm...Chris's entire life. Or the fact, that I was able to get pregnant with this baby, so much easier than with Chris. His whole life brings a new degree of hope.
I'd also have to say most recently, Baby Andrew. My girlfriend had a baby at 26 1/2 weeks, she was due a week after me, and he Really had the chips stacked against him, but he's doing SO Well. He's still got hurdles, but I look at him and his life is place of such great promise and hope, and he is such a miracle that I can't help but rejoice at our hope and prayers answered in action through his life. It's a miracle!

4. Where do you find your sources for hope? Do they shift and change, or do they remain eternally steadfast? Well... both? While God remains Eternally Steadfast in my life, he places people in my life that do shift and change. Early in my pregnancy with Chris, I had some very close friends that I confided in and leaned on, I mean God really placed them in the right place at the right time in my life, but they aren't as prevelant in my life as before, and I have new friends and family members in whom I am able to find hope and support. And God has planted them there too.

5. Are there parts of your life that are keeping you from embracing hope? What would it take to overcome those issues and bring you back into a place of hope? Really my big obstacle is forgiveness. I don't know if it's not embracing Hope, but when it comes to forgiving someone who has repeatedly hurt me, and putting myself in their presence again. Doesn't that mean that I'm placing Hope on that situation. And by not going there, I'm not overcoming it and embracing hope in that particular situation. I recently read a devotional about God and Forgiveness, about how HE is the only one that can give blanket forgiveness for all deeds. That we just have to work on one deed at a time. We aren't built for blank forgiveness, but if we work at it, we can forgive one instance. Perhaps then, if I can move through enough instances, then overall forgiveness of someone can be achieved. That's Hopeful, isn't it?

Go Fly a Kite

A Dream Come True



As a precurser story, when I was pregnant with Chris, we used to sit and talk about what we were looking forward to doing with our kids. One day, as we were driving, Eric said he couldn't wait to go fly a kite with his son (now this was before he knew Chris was a boy). The way he told the story gave me such a beautiful vision that it brought tears to my eyes, and I went out and bought him a kite. Yesterday was the first time we brought that kite out.

What I want to be when I grow up

Today a friend of mine paid me a very high compliment. "If you have 7or 8 years spare time, you should go to Medical School, you'd make a great doctor." She said so, because I correctly diagnosed her mystery illness. Not my first time. But I don't think it's so much that I have a gift for diagnosing medical mysteries, I just know too much, and too many medical mystery sorts of people.
It was such a sweet thing to say, an honor really. But I do NOT want to go to medical school. It got me thinking about what I DO want to do. Besides being Mom that is. There was a time I did. When I was "asked to leave" pharmacy school, aka flunked out, I decided to come back with a vengence, and get my Biology, raise my grades, determined to kick 18 kinds of butt, and go to Med school. Well, that worked for a semester. I worked nights at the hospital, and put myself through school...for a semester, then I hurt my back. I barely graduated. And decided the high stress life of doctors and/or med students was not the life for me. My Mom did Med school when I was in elementary/middle school, and she was never home. Eric and I wanted to get married, and start a family. I just wanted to work in a lab. I was content with that. I wanted the kind of job, I could go home and just be at home.
In California, I couldn't get a lab job, nobody wanted to hire me knowing we were leaving in 2 years. But by omitting that little detail, I got a great retail job, at a jewelry store. A friend of a friend whose blog I stalk regulary recently said, "I'm such a magpie, bright shiny things are my downfall." I'm the same way. And except for the "For You Today..." schmoozing, I loved it. I loved being such a part of everybody's happy occasions, or solving a little mystery, like what is this stone, getting a ring off a finger that had been there 15 years, or pulling a knot out of a chain that had been knotted for 10 years. I just wanted to learn the skills of jewelry repair. That looked like a cool job. If our repairmen wanted to be around people, they could be, or they didn't have to be. I liked both aspects.

And I've decided. When I grow up, I want to be in Jewelry Repair. For Christmas Eric asked if I was interested in a combo Birthday/Christmas present. That meant it was going to be HUGE! Turns out he wanted to enroll me in jewelry repair correspondance school. How awesomely sweet! And yes, the perfect gift. Then again, Eric doesn't choose crap, he knows me and if he can't buy the perfect thing, he won't get anything. But with the baby coming, I know I would NOT be getting around to it for quite a while. Maybe more than one while. I have some other really awesome gifts gathering dust in my friends' basement though, and I wouldn't want a year or two's worth of coursework gathering dust. I said No thank you. I've read you can be a better Mom if you take the time to better yourself too. So, although I'm not actively pursuing, I do have a plan. But When the boys are both in school...I'm thinking that will be what I want to do.
I have this vision, and you may laugh, but here it is. In a corner of our basement, I have a jeweler's bench. And there's a comfy chair nearby. I will have my own business, jewelry repair (or custom creations) running out of my home, in the basement. Here's the awesome niche I plan to get into. You know how you know someone that won't let their wedding band out of their site, and they'd rather run around with a smooshed ring, or something that doesn't fit, than give it to "strangers". Well, that's where I come in. You make an appointment, come on over, grab a cup of something warm, and I fix your jewelry while we chat. Your jewelry isn't out of your sight. I get girl time on my own schedule, they get peace of mind, AND I get to play with jewelry at the same time. That's my great plan. We'll see how it works.
No med school for me.
Maybe Chris will go to Medical School. He would be good at it. He certainly has a gift in the hospital setting of not stressing out--cool under pressure, and always a positive outlook; and you should see how friendly he is with the nurses. Although he'd also make an excellent Pastor, he and God have certainly demonstrated they are pretty tight, and he's always arguing when Pastor tries to give a sermon.

Chaos

"It feels like Chaos, but somehow there's Peace."

Whatever You're Doing-Sanctus Real


Yeah, that about sums it up.