Anniversary

Roughly one year ago, we began renovations to Zeb's room. It was a disgusting, grody mess: filthy walls made of textured plaster in an odd vertical stripe pattern that was impossible to clean; 80 year old hardwoods with holes, warps, slivers, glue and staples sticking out; and a tendency for harboring wasps in the windows. I remember my husband saying this to me last October, "Worst case scenario: it'll be done around Christmas." Famous last words.

My angst regarding the long-drawn out mess of this renovation has subsided. First, because I'm less sleep-deprived then when we began a year ago with a 6-month old baby. Second, because all my frustrations were not actually getting me closer to a finished room; and third, because it was damaging our marriage. So sometime early this year, I resigned myself to whatever fate renovation had in store. Don't get me wrong, I still fan the flickering DIY flame in my husband. He is a plodder and his momentum often gets sucked out by life (or a broken nail gun). Naturally, I try to urge it back on occasion.

In honor of this wretched anniversary and the roller-coaster of emotion this renovation has caused, I give you a recap of all we've accomplished. And when I say "we", I really mean Matt with the occasional help of friends. He's bore the weight of the actual doing while I bore the wait of a house in continual chaos.

First, he tore up the old hardwood floors. He found hundreds of acorns, a petrified rat, an old sock, really old wiring and other assorted grossness. After a good vacuuming, he surveyed the floor joists and the wiring which ran from the wall socket to the ceiling fan for the living room below. Obstacle one - the fan needed rewiring. None of the connections were done properly. This involved cutting out a part of the wall in the living room below. Then, he had to do some bracing of the floor joists to keep the new floor from squeaking as bad as the old one did.

Along with this, he discovered that the walls needed fire-blocking. Our house was built with the same beams running from 1st floor all the way through the 2nd floor to the roof. Which gives you one big wall cavity and that's super bad for a fire. So he had to put wood in the wall cavity to close off the space between the first floor wall space and the second floor wall space. This way, if there's a fire in the walls, it has to burn through the wood before it can get into the wall on the second floor - severely slowing its spread.

So, months later: floor demo done, fire-blocking done. Re-wiring done. Bracing the floor joists done. insulating floor space (for sound proofing) done. Sub-floor done. Some of the wiring problems extended into the wall, so they had to remove drywall for one wall and the corresponding wooden planks (similar to shiplap), and re-wire. There was no insulation (it was an exterior wall), so insulation had to be cut and installed. Then the wood planks reinstalled and new sheet-rock. The second wall, they pulled down the sheet-rock, discarded the old insulation. Obstacle two: Matt discovered a leak in the window which had rotten out the window frame. (By now it's around Christmas time). Matt had to remove the widow and re-build the frame around it. Then, of course, cut new insulation and sheet-rock for the wall.

The third wall held another obstacle, one that I had my suspicions about but Matt was unconvinced until there was evidence he could no longer deny. A huge wasp nest. This wall was half in the attic and half exterior and a hug hole in the corner of where the wall met the roof was letting wasps in behind the wall (and they were finding their way into the room through the window frames). He removed the nest, plugged the massive hole, reattached some of the flashing he had to take off where the lower part of the outside wall met the roof of the back-half of our house. Then of course, there was wood planking he had to take off in the process and put back on, then insulation, then drywall. The drywall hasn't been fully plastered at this point.

The last couple months, he's been working on installing the new hard floor. Besides the laborious process of measuring and cutting wood pieces to fit, he's had a series of set-backs with nail guns. (Well, that was after a set-back when his compressor (or the one he was borrowing?) died). He's now the happy owner of a new air compressor. He actual has a nail gun also but its the wrong size for the edges of the room, so for the past couple weeks, he's had roughly a 6 inch perimeter around the room where he hasn't been able to finish laying the floor.

So that's where we are. The rest of the floor needs to be laid. Then the drywall finished patching & sanding, then comes painting. Then baseboards, a new ceiling fan, and that should be it. Technically, the new hardwood floor should be sanded because some of the edges aren't flat, but we might just throw an area rug over it for now. All this, of course, during the one or two days a month that Matt has to work on it. At two years old, Zeb will finally have a nursery, ahem, toddler room.

I'm hoping it will be done by this Christmas :D

My before pictures are not very good.

Easter

My little cutie, the light of my life, hanging on while I run my morning data processes. If I have to work an outside job, at least some of it can be done with him by my side. In a time when mothers are losing children, from Pakistan to Yemen, I'm more grateful that words can express. No mother anywhere, whether my friend or my enemy, should lose a child. But there has never been a time when this is not so. That time will be in heaven. Come quickly, Lord. But, if you must delay out of mercy, to save more, then give me strength to wait.

Baby Food

I never anticipated that making baby food would be so fun. If I come home from work tired and uninspired to cook supper, I still get enjoyment from the thought of mixing and introducing new flavors to Zeb. Plus, the lure of cute little jars of baby food is rather strong. I'll pretty much fall for anything with a strong cute factor. :) My main inspiration and resource is a blog called Baby Foode and a corresponding cookbook, which I own, called Little Foode. The author encourages the use of spices in baby food to keep it from being too bland. A lot of her recipes call for breast milk to be added to help puree but I've found that when I heat up the food, it starts to taste sour. So I leave the milk out and just add water. I had a fancy Nuk blender from my baby registry but it doesn't work well at all and smells like burning rubber when I use it. Ew.  So I use our normal blender. I wish I hadn't spent the money on the extra blender. Oh well. Live and maybe you can learn something from me. :)

Chosen

Sometimes the Lord uses scriptures to speak to you, but not in the way you expect. In the early mornings at 6:30 when I drag myself out of bed to feed Z and get the day started, the world is quiet and lamp light soft. I read my bible while he sleepily eats and slowly wakes. 

I Thessalonians 1:4 says this "knowing, brethren, beloved by God, His choice of you;"

There's a whole context to this verse, an intended meaning, but sometimes God makes a phrase jump out and then whispers His own message in your ear. Monday morning, as I faced my first day back at work, the message was this "God's choice."

My days aren't hard, but they are constant. From the moment I roll out of bed, there is a string of things to do until my head hits the pillow. Wake, feed, grab breakfast, get dressed and log-on to work by 7:30am, work, feed, pack and load the lunch, the diaper bag, the computer bag, the pump, his bottle, etc. leave by 10 (fingers crossed that there's no construction or traffic or accidents), drop him off, swaddle him for his morning nap and drive to work, work, pump, inhale some lunch, work, leave at 3:30pm - drive to pick up the little guy, home, work, put supper on in between data-sets, feed, eat, wash dishes, drop into bed. If anything goes wrong, then everything gets rushed, which is a different level of stress. Most mornings my oatmeal is cold by the time I get around to eating it.

That was a lot of detail. My point is that working 40 hours, being a mom, doing the cooking, laundry, and cleaning means about 10 minutes of breathing time if I'm lucky. It would be easy to embrace bitterness or exhaustion or resentment. But He chose me.

I was chosen to be Zeb's mom, I was chosen to be Matt's wife, I was chosen to work at this job, I was chosen to live in this city, I was chosen to go to the church I attend and have the friends I have. I was chosen to live in this house that needs dusting every 10 seconds. God chose me for all these roles. For this time and place, for however long and for whatever reason. Clinging to that means trusting Him to strengthen me for all these things. Knowing that enables me to have a good attitude, to try and do well the things for which He's picked me. It means I can simply and calmly go from one constant point to the next constant point in my day - being thankful for the little graces along the way. Only the intimacy of Providence makes that possible.

Birth story part 1

It would be easy to think of Zebadiah's entry into the world via cesarean section as a trial. Indeed, it was scary and painful. But the entire journey was marked by obvious attention to us by God and I felt loved and known. Far better is this than to have perfect circumstances and distance from Him. In so many little moments I knew my Father was with me, and because of that, Zeb's birth story to me is a blessing and a gift.

On Wednesday, January 21, I hit the mark for 42 weeks and went to the birthing center for a sonogram. We had hoped, planned, and expected to give birth at the birthing center, a peaceful environment where my sister had successfully given birth to all three of her children. The decision wasn't necessarily about being natural - although that played a role. I have multiple negative experiences which left me with a pervasive dislike and even fear of hospitals. I most definitely did not want to give birth in one! Our midwife and midwife intern had provided care to me from the start and since I'm equally un-fond of doctors, this was a preferable set-up for me.

At this point, I was rather certain I had been having contractions for about a week. But they kept stalling. The sonogram showed us why. Zeb was breech. Up until that day, he had been head-down in perfect position. But because he was breech, the contractions weren't dilating me - they didn't have the added help of his head pressure bearing down. I wasn't making any progress in labor. I don't know why, after 42 weeks of perfect positioning, Zeb was suddenly all twisted up. The moment we found out, we talked to our midwives about getting him turned. I mostly assumed he would turn. I couldn't conceive of a reality in which he remained breech. That afternoon, still at the birthing center, a midwife performed an external version on me. This is where they press and massage your stomach incredibly hard in an effort to actually move the baby through your skin. I can honestly say it was one of the most painful parts of Zeb's entire birth story. He was wedged in there pretty tight and after two tries, my ligaments were stretched to the max, my stomach was bruised, and I was painfully sore. He was still breech.

We went to the chiropractor that evening (our midwives went with us because they are awesome!) and she did some technique called the Webster, designed to help flip baby. Then we went home to rest, contemplate the possibility of a c-section, and do some different positions and exercises to get him turned. Thursday morning, back at the birth center, he was still breech and I consented to another attempt at an external version. This was a courageous decision for me because it was sooo painful and I didn't want to do it again. But Matt wanted to give it one more go and in the end, if it was worth avoiding the hospital, so did I. He was still breech.

At this point, our midwives confirmed their recommendation that we transfer to a hospital and get a c-section. I cried, not from failure, but from fear. 

Getting Ready

The baby seems to be gearing up to make his appearance soon. Along with the renovations through which my husband is admirably persevering, there's a couple tasks I'm working to complete in time. The first is freezer meals. I've got a decent amount but I'm sure it won't seem like many when we start using them up. The second is a baby blanket I've been working on. My mother (or Matt's mother, I can't remember which one) gave me a body pillow case of bicycles a couple years ago. The material is really soft and I've kept it stashed away in my fabric drawer. Now I'm working to make it a pho-quilt. I don't really have the patience for real quilting. But I like pho-quilting, even if it does highlight my inability to sew in a straight line. The blanket is almost done! I do have to brag for a second and say that I also sewed an extra fitted crib sheet from some adorable light blue vintage Winnie-the-pooh fabric. There's plenty of easy tutorials online about how to do this.

 

Focusing on these little almost-done tasks help keep my head space occupied and crowds out anxiety (at least where the birth is concerned, Matt can attest to plenty of anxiety where the renovations are concerned!)

 

Isn't it cute? And it's SOFT!

 



Lately

I haven't posted much because it's all I can do lately to work, eat, and sleep. There's not much left over for thinking. Or blogging. I went to a church retreat this past weekend which was restful (at least mentally) as I escaped the task list in my head. Even without house work and unpacking, just working everyday, keeping up with groceries and having meals made is taxing with limited movement and energy. People keep telling me to watch out for the nesting phase, but I think if it comes, I'll just cry because there's no way I could get everything organized and/or cleaned if the urge hit me.

The house is coming along thanks to Matt's diligence. It's still overwhelming to think of all that is left to do. At first, I was hesitant, but I'm really glad Matt got a puppy. She brings joy and smiles to our faces in the midst of a stressful time. Here's Matt and Josie enjoying our back porch. They're both pretty cute.

Update

I did a lot of whining to my neighbor about how scattered this move was becoming but in the end it wasn't that bad. Last weekend, we moved half our house, most of the big furniture, with Blake's help. Then Matt spent the week painting the living room and finishing up the floor in the laundry room that had flooded. Friday morning, Matt's day off, he and Brian (a.k.a. lifesaver) got the hot water heater in and working. When I got home from work, we packed, loaded and moved the rest of the house with the help of our neighbors Mike & Julia Ann. Dropping into bed at our new house was sweet relief even if it was after midnight. Saturday, Matt went to work and I went to clean the old house from top to bottom. It was another long day but Sunday we woke up knowing only a few minor things stood between us and the key turn in. Our other neighbor (LeAnne) made us supper to take home. I will really miss this neighborhood. We were only here a year but our neighbors were the best. I will also miss living a block from my sister.

This is "before" with a frightening yellow color and a fake fireplace. We painted it a calming green.

Since the house has more work to be done (like flooring in both upstairs rooms and cabinets in the kitchen) getting unpacked is likely to be slow and halting. For now everything has a temporary home. It is a little frustrating to not be able to put things away, but at the same time there is a calming peace knowing that soon we will put things away and they will stay for a very, very long time. I'm sure our friend Brian will really appreciate it. I think he and Blake have now moved my piano a total of NINE times in the last five years. Actually, I'm sure my husband will appreciate it the most!

These are "before" pictures of our living room and one of the upstairs bedrooms. Underneath a very nasty carpet is hardwood floors that have been painted with what might be lead paint (yikes!). It may take a solid year (depending on how the world rocks with the arrival of baby) to get an "after" picture. My honey's to-do list ranges from screens to gutters to everything in between. My to-do list is to eat. But honestly, I think I like his better! If only he could eat for me and I could install screens. That would be the bees-knees. Oh well. I suppose we need to develop some character to pass onto our son.

Wonderful Wednesday

There's so many things I love about this picture: that my home is full of people, that my table has lots of tea, that there are multiple babies in multiple tummies, that ten years has not dulled how much I adore these people, that a night of conversation is still more satisfying than all the facebooking in the world, that just small glimpses into these hearts inspire me deeply, that there are some people out there living meaningful lives consisting of far more than netflix and take-out, that God has brought us all through low valleys onto grassy knolls, that ten years ago we could not have dreamed up all the blessings we now share around the table. It was Thanksgiving in April.

update

I'm pretty tired today. I had a full weekend on top of a previous full weekend. Last weekend, husband and I substitute parented while my sister and her husband went out of town. It's not hard per se, keeping two kids fed, dressed, pottied and non-sleep-deprived. It's just constant. I'm sure every parent will chuckle at me. Knowing this in theory is different from actually doing it. It takes just about every moment of the day. If you're not changing a diaper or blending food or rocking one of them, you're doing it for the other. These are good kids, so the weariness was satisfying. And being with them was sweet. Matt came out of the weekend with his life long record of zero diaper-changes intact. :p

Wonderful Wednesday

This past weekend, I had a quick but fun jet set to Los Angeles to watch my brother graduate with his MBA (his second masters degree!). I've never been to LA in the spring and it was beautiful! So many cool plants that I didn't recognize - purple blooming trees and some trees with red bristle like flowers. I recognized the birds of paradise flower, my brother had HUGE white ones in front of his house. The weather was so gorgeous. It was very windy and at times a bit chilly for me; ironically, LA had a heat advisory (all about perspective). After the ceremony, John was fabulous enough to race me up to the Griffith Observatory which I had wanted to see. It is awesome! I wish the telescopes hadn't been locked up and of course going at night would be even better but for the two hour window before my flight, it was a great side trip. We had a party the night before where I met his friends, talked them into eating carbs (in Texas I'm a healthy eater, in California I'm a junky eater - once again, all about perspective) and watched Pitch Perfect. haha! All in all, a great weekend.

Update

My nephew Torin and I enjoying summer time activities.

Hello,

Here I am. After three weeks, matt and I are almost unpacked. Curtains and pictures are half-up. Some caulking remains. A quarter of the flower beds are planted. No files are in the cabinet. The clothesline is functional. We hosted our first friends for lunch yesterday.

 

We've met seven neighbors and have already been in two of their homes. We officially love our neighborhood. If this impressive display of community was not enough, there is the unmatched perk of living one (count 'em: ONE) block away from my sister and her family.

 

After a month or so of searching, I was given a full-time job in a field partly related to my past experience as a secretary but different enough to be quite stretching. I'm a data entry analyst for a major private university. So far, I really like my job. But the details are intricate, long, and I think I can feel my brain expanding as I type! I am incredibly thankful for my job. It's a transition to get used to a long (and truely awful) commute and being absent from my home for 10 hours a day. Hopefully, my zinnias will bloom and I'll receive a perky and colorful welcome home each day.

 

I still don't feel settled but since I'm not sure when it will come I'm not waiting for it :] Every day we get more and more content with the farm prospect falling through. To fight God's timing is a really terrible idea so we succumb.

 

Here's an encouraging thought: God gives everyone life and breath and everything else. He marked out their appointed times in history and the boundaries of their lands. God did this so that they would seek Him and perhaps reach out for Him and find Him, though He is not far from any of us. Acts. 17: 25, 28.

I know...

Most of you have probably stopped reading. Why? Because there was nothing to read. (I know, so logical).

And now you wonder if I’m tempting you with a cruel morsel or an appetizer with promises of a coming meal. I can’t really tell you. I don’t know…that.

I can tell you I bought a dress, a really cool dress. One that is a size too small. It has been sitting on my dresser, with the receipt, awaiting replacement. I left it there when I hoisted on a pack of survival gear and marched proudly into Yosemite with two friends. I stressed over weather, bears, elevation, pain in my calves, rations of food, and water supply. My body smelled, my hair was gnarly, and the people I passed (mostly guys) gave me major props.

I’ll admit, the props were nice, seriously nice, as the pain grew worse, the vista’s more beautiful and the mind more doubtful (was I crazy?!). Yet, at the end of it all, I didn’t want the props or the pictures. I wanted my husband.

With facebook and blogs and pinterest, it’s more possible than ever to compare myself to others and seek validation in a tangible way (‘likes’, ‘comments’, ‘pings’). It’s easier than ever to find and press the “cool button”. My dress is just another password in a long line I’ve collected to get “in” the world around me.

But as vestiges of my college days filter through my memory, I wonder if, like the backpacking trip, I’m caught up in the props while missing something very different. In the crash-course of wilderness survival, life lessons often crystallize very nicely. But not here in the real world.

I suspect that easy access to the coolness of others has slowly distracted me. I pour energy into comparison and acquisition and reconstruction of my life according to others. I used to pour energy into being a good friend, into the act of relating. Have I subtlety become obsessed with my own image at the expense of others?

It’s more complicated, of course, than just a switch of focus. Relating to others has become more difficult as the adult world with it’s distance, schedules, and commitments, tear us from the easy proximity of college dormitories and shared walks to the cafeteria or roommates across the apartment hallway. Relating now is popcorn style, once a week here or there. Everyone seems fine with it. My own husband doesn’t seem to require much relating to be content. So why not fill up all the holes with things that look sharp or function well or garner me props/likes/comments/pins, a way to make everything feel valuable?

Well, because I KNOW the better way. I’ve been there before. I just don’t know quite how to make it work in this new post-college/married/electronic world in which I find myself. Perhaps the best way to start is to return the dress and to continue to search for the right ‘yes’ and the right ‘no’. Even if those ways are small, I think together they’ll begin to make a difference.

Oh Brother Where Art Thou?

My brother Alan is gone. He called three weeks ago one sunny afternoon to tell me he was moving back to Texas. When I hung up I was happy for him (I had actually been praying for this) but then the full weight of what this means crashed down. Alan’s leaving is the beginning of a chain reaction. Now, John is serious about moving to Law School next year in Washington D.C. He’s preparing for it. Then, they will both be gone and I will be left.

I moved here for one reason: to develop a relationship with my brothers. Both had undergone significant changes during the five years I was in college and we didn’t keep in good contact. God impressed upon me very strongly that – before I could minister anywhere else – I was to minister to my family. When I arrived here, it was very hard and I felt like it couldn’t be done, but I didn’t really have a choice… and it meant the world to me.

I feel like one of those warriors in a movie who was surrounded by thousands of enemy soldiers. He’s fighting and fighting until, suddenly, it’s all over. He stands up and looks around and feels a little lost. He had to focus so much on what was at hand to survive that he didn’t have a chance to think about the end or what it would be like and what he would do when it was all over.

I feel like that. I guess part of me didn’t think it would be this easy – in one sense. It wasn’t easy, but I was prepared for a 20 year battle, and here I am two years later with amazing relationships with my brothers. Both of them: AMAZING, and suddenly, it’s all coming to an end. I’ve reached what I was striving for (all by grace). The end of this chapter is bittersweet. Saturday was our last sibling get-together – the nature of it like all the previous times these two years past.

The three of us were sitting on the couch, me sandwiched in between them. We feed off each other’s wittiness, energy, and arrogance. My brothers make arrogance an art form; :-) it’s their way of being encouraging without being sentimental. “Of course you’re incredible and amazing and beautiful and more intelligent than any other woman – you’re related to me.” Alan.
Our dietary intake at such gatherings is completely unhealthy. Eating pizza, ice-cream, pop-corn, going out to eat, drinking wine (my brothers at least). “Do you want me to bring something? I have macaroni and cheese with some broccoli stirred in.” Me. “VEGGITEABLES???” John “I’m so ashamed of you.”
The conversation is about topics that are incredibly intelligent and sometimes way over my head. “Stop out-witting me!!” Me. Alan laughs. “I can’t help it that I got all the brains in the family. You got all the looks.” “What about poor John?” “I got both.” John replies with nonchalant confidence. Alan chimes in again: “Even if you were stupid, you’d still be smarter than all the other girls.” (that’s his way of complimenting my intelligence)
The TV is on. This is typical of my brothers. It’s the news, briefly, until they highlight someone who did something which my brothers consider to be a sign of no cognitive activity. “I’m so embarrassed. I’m embarrassed to be human.” Alan (most things my brothers see on TV they decry as being stupid – which is natural considering their high level of intelligence and disdain for modesties)
Discussions about Montgomery’s war strategy in northern Africa during World War I, the drosophila of cognitive science being chess, the Greek mythology of heaven: Elysian Fields, abound. My brother pops in an obscure movie “The Inside Man” and they discuss who the director is. I have no knowledge of directors, but they seem to, just like they have knowledge of Montgomery and Drosophilia and Greek Mythology [one has a computer science degree and the other an electrical engineering one]. After the movie we pull out the games. They usually beat me bad and I always complain that it’s a conspiracy to which they mostly reply that they don’t care. :-) Tonight, I beat both of them at Settlers of Catan, twice in a row…

I have no idea what to do next.
“I suppose you won’t be far behind them and will be leaving now too.” Hilary.
Will I? And where would I go?