Early Christmas Blessings

So much to talk about. So much to write. I feel my head spinning when I think of what I want to talk about. I suppose I'll share the biggest news around here.

Our Christmas was looking a little Charlie Brownish. We have each other, a roof over our heads, love for our Lord, Jesus Christ, and the bills are paid (sort of). It didn't look like we'd get to buy the children presents. We'd already told friends and family not to expect any gifts from us. We are not going to rack up huge credit card bills that we can't afford to pay. Everyone was very kind and understanding.

I only had enough money to spend about $20 on Evan. Not much, but enough for him to have three very small gifts under the tree. I had cleverly hidden Evan's baby toys away many years ago and planned on wrapping three "recycled" gifts for Eliana. (We do three per child because that was the number Jesus received when he was born.)

Then, we had a number of Christmas miracles:

1) Aaron and I each received a check from my step-mom and her husband in birthday cards last week.
2) My great aunt sent a check to be split between the children.
3) My mom sent a check that Aaron and I were to use towards gifts for the children and a birthday celebration for the two of us.
4) My father stopped by unexpectedly and left a card filled with several large bills and two gift cards.
5) My step-mom's husband sent a very large check, part of his inheritance from his father's passing just two months ago, in the hopes of providing a bright Christmas for our family.
6) The women's guild at our church took a collection for gifts for our children and talked to the pastor about writing us a check from the crisis fund.

Can you imagine the joy we felt by the outpouring of gifts? There was a lot of crying, quite a bit of embarassment and shame, and an overwhelming sense of love and gratitude.

We asked the church not to write us a check from the crisis fund because we aren't losing our home and there's food on the table. This is not a "crisis". There are others who would benefit far more from that money. We also told the women's guild about our recent gifts, but they insisted on giving us the donation to spend on ourselves or our children. (Maybe it's my ratty winter coat that moved them...)

We are so truly blessed to have so many care and show love for us. It's very humbling. Aaron and I are beyond words. There's nothing to say.

We bought a few gifts for BOTH children. Nothing outrageous--a few practical toys and outfits. The rest is probably going to go towards bills or tucked away for when we need it again. My guess is that it won't be long.

In the meantime, I have been praising God and praying that others are as blessed as we have been.

Happy Thanksgiving {phfr}

The children made this with the nanny!

This was the first Thanksgiving I've spent away from my grandparents in my conscious memory. I can't disclose all the reasons but suffice it to say that it wasn't a decision my husband and I made happily. The holidays were quite bittersweet for us. We spent the holiday focusing on the things that did make us happy and were able to spend the day after Thanksgiving with my grandparents.

{funny, happy}

On Thanksgiving day, we went to my mother's house with my brother and his longtime girlfriend. (Engaged? No. And I'm not expecting that anytime soon, but I love her just the same.) My mom was so happy to have her kids home for Thanksgiving. It was a quiet day of enjoying my children--entertaining Evan and admiring Eliana.








As you can see, I had to invest in a nice outfit for Evan. He's in the Christmas program at church this year as well as another at school. And I think it's a good tradition for young children to look as nice as the adults on the holidays. There's a reason to dress nicely for the occasion.

{real}

{funny, happy, real}

We spent the day after Thanksgiving at my grandparents' house. We always used to make cookies on that Friday. This year, Gram was too tired to make dough from scratch and the whole family wasn't there, but that was okay. We used refridgerated cookie dough, and Evan had a great time making "Gingy-bread mans" with Gram. He was so delighted when he discovered that he could use two different candies to make the eyes or buttons. Funny kid!




Gram also was able to spend time holding her long-awaited great-granddaughter. She's been quietly and patiently waiting for a granddaughter.

{pretty, happy, real}

The Bathroom {phfr}

{Pretty}

This is the painting hanging above my toilet. Silly place to put such a beautiful painting, isn't it? I've had it for nearly ten years now and just love it. I feel such tranquility when I look at it.

Maybe the bathroom is a good place for this painting after all!

{Happy}

Looks pretty happy with his mess, doesn't he? Right before I snapped this picture, Evan asked me, "Mom, have you seen my widdle fiwetwuck?"
"Ummm... no."

{Funny}

This is a sign that we had to put on our bathroom door. I wish I was kidding. But we have a blind cat. He's memorized the way the house is supposed to be. If, for example, he usually jumps up to the toilet seat and sits in wait while I shower but said toilet seat is left up, there is a good chance a blind cat will fall into the bowl.

{Real}

Babies don't like ribbons.

Did you find contentment this week?

30 Things to be Thankful for

In lieu of tidying my house, I've been thinking about how down I seem to get in my blog. I'm really quite a happy person but I let a lot of my pain out through my writing. How's about a glimpse into the happier, content Linny?

Thanksgiving is just around the corner and there are 30 days in November. To celebrate, here are 30 things I'm thankful for.

1. Beautiful, healthy children.

2. A committed, loving, adoring, hardworking husband.

3. The means to make my student loan payments on time.

4. My camera because I can document my children's lives and share my joy of my children with others.

5. A caring best friend, whose listens to me when I'm down, saved me from complete desperation, cleaned my house, cares for my children, and shared all of the joys I've had from marriage to motherhood to birthday parties.

6. My brother Mike. He shared a difficult childhood with me, has loved and supported me, is the godfather of my son, and is a good friend.

7. My sister Bethany. She's my daughter's godmother, encourages and shares my faith, shares problems with me, listens to me, cares for me, and worries about me.

8. The quilt my grandmother made me when I was 10. I still have it, and it brings me comfort and warmth. Without it, I wouldn't have snuggled with my children this morning!

9. Allrecipes.com. Without it, my family and I would be starving!

10. Generous grandparents, who've always loved us, no matter what our mistakes.

11. The love and forgiveness of Our Lord, through Jesus Christ.

12. Unanswered prayers because if I had gotten everything I'd ever wanted, I wouldn't have the wonderful life I have today.

13. My son's autism because it has humbled me and brought me closer to God.

14. A home to live in.

15. My in-laws, who are so loving and accepting of my son and me, who desire a relationship with us.

16. My wonderful nanny, whom I've caught hugging and kissing my children, telling them she missed them over the weekend and that she loves them.

17. A loving and supporting family.

18. My dog, Eddie, is so sweet and gentle with my children, snuggles with me, and is a source of great comfort.

19. The ability to nurse with an abundant supply. It has helped me to bond with both of my children.

20. My son wanting to spend time with me. He wants to share in his accomplishments and joy. He recently requested a pajama party. We snuggled, ate junk food, drank soda, and watched Finding Nemo.

21. A warm and welcoming church to grow in.

22. I have a job that I not only enjoy but that is fulfilling.

23. Indoor plumbing.

24. My turn table and vinyl collection.

25. Students who remind me why I worked so hard in college.

26. My son's teachers because they care about him so much.

27. Board games. I know, I'm a nerd.

28. Toys. I'll admit it. I love my son's play kitchen as much as he does.

29. Pork chops fried in soy sauce.

30. Shakespeare.

First Family Photo {phfr}

Our first family picture!
Such pretty smiles!
Such a happy family!
Funny, because of course, we can't get everyone to look at the family. And my husband is in his pajamas. Well, that's how it goes.
A very real setting on our family couch.

Accepting God's Plan

Something's been weighing on my mind. That's my reason for not posting in so long. How to deal with the guilt, the grief, in a private manner before making it public is quite time consuming. I have to sort through my feelings before I can share them or else the things I say come out wrong.

July 2007

Evan is autistic. My son, my precious babe, my first born--he's not like other kids. The gravity of that has been sinking in.

You see, a year ago he started receiving in-home therapy. Evan's county worker assured me that Evan is very high-functioning. Yes, I knew that. She said she would be surprised if he qualified for services for more than a year. When he started services this past January, I suppose I had it in my mind that we'd take the year of services. If Evan made the appropriate amount of progress, he'd be caught up to his peers. If not, we'd still be getting services and continue to work. Sounds reasonable, right?

The reality is that Evan will likely not qualify to continue services and he won't be caught up to his peers. In other terms, he's still autistic but he's not autistic enough. There are other kids who are struggling more than he is.

The weight of this has been sinking in. I suppose I equated Evan not qualifying for services with not being autistic anymore. The truth is, no matter how much he catches up, he is always going to be autistic.

Easter egg dying, 2009

The truth is profound and painful for me.

I know enough about autism to know that the great majority don't "recover". There is no cure. It doesn't go away. My expectations and hopes were above the bar for my son. Reality is so cruel.

Evan's teachers assure me he's doing great. What they mean is that he's not a problem. He doesn't have behaviors at school or that they're very limited. It means they don't have to constantly be on him, that he maintains a certain amount of independence. It doesn't mean that he's not stimming or making friends or playing with other students. That hurts, too.

Mother's Day 2011

Mother's Day 2008

As a teacher and former therapist, I have a picture of what Evan's future looks like. If we stay in this small school district, he'll be fully included in the classroom and likely have an aid. Other students will know him and say things like, "That's just how Evan is." They won't be mean to him and they may even encourage him. But they won't be friends with him. As he gets older, as this year goes on and he ignores their attempts to befriend him, they'll remember and he'll be alone. He might not ever get invited to a birthday party or sleepover. No one will want to work in a group with him for a class assignment because he'll hold them back, and he'll get grouped with lower functioning students. This knowledge strikes a chord of such grief that I literally ache in my chest for him. Evan is shy and has trouble interacting but it doesn't mean he doesn't want to be included at a birthday party or with his peers. He's just scared.

The pain knocks the wind out of me. I've begged, pleaded, prayed. "Please, God, please!" What am I asking for? I'm not even sure.
In the middle of all my pain, my pleading and praying, the Lord spoke to me. He gently whispered, "You can't fix what I have made."
"I know," I answered.
"What I have made, I have made perfectly," He said.
And that's where we've left the conversation. It doesn't matter how much I hurt for my son or what I say or do, the Lord made him and made him perfectly. The Lord has a plan for me and my son.

Summer 2010

What I've taken from that conversation is that I need to love and accept Evan, autistic or  not. I can't spend my life grieving and resisting. After all, how presumptuous am I to question our Divine Maker and His plan? It doesn't mean that I can or should stop trying to mold my son into a loving, gentle, contributing member of society. It just means that Evan isn't going to be like his peers. I need to let go of that thought or hope and obediently submit to the Lord's plan and will.

Summer 2010

I'm working on it.

Fun Family Weekend {phfr}

It's amazing to me how {pretty} my baby gets every day. She's nothing what I expected.

What a {happy} helper! My sweet little man thinks spending time with my husband, even if it's doing chores, is the best!

My step-mom's new husband and my brother Mikey treed my son! Too {funny}! Do they realize my little monkey really enjoyed it?!

This is my {real} family. As many as them that could be there. And what an odd situation. My dad, mom, step-dad, and Aaron's family all came to the baptism of Eliana.

Her gown was made by my grandfather's aunt. He wore it when he was baptized, as did my mom, aunt, uncle, myself, my brother, and my son.

Mommy Moments

I follow Aimee's Blog, and she follows Colleen's blog. Colleen invited moms to share their "real" mommy moments. Here are mine.


My Top 5 "bad" mommy moments

1) "Sure you can have cake for breakfast."
2) "DON'T BITE THE DOG OR I'M GOING TO BITE YOU!!!!"
3) "Put your freaking toys away or I'm throwing them in the trash!" And then I actually did put a few in the trash.
4) "Brush your teeth!" My toddler spit all over the bathroom mirror, which I had just cleaned. I tossed the hand towel at his head and just walked away.
5) Mom. Mom. MOM. MOM! MOM!!
"Stop calling me that! I changed my name!"
You did?
"Yup. And I'm running away."

I'm looking at these and wondering why my husband and children love me. Hmmm... I might want to work on becoming more patient.

Scout is Baptized

From left to right: My dad, mom, Aaron's grandma, my step-dad, Aaron's mom, me, Eliana, Evan, Aaron, Aaron's dad, Aaron's brother

Eliana was baptized on Sunday! A beautiful service for our beautiful daughter.
I feel good about my promise to God, to raise Eliana to know Him.
And that Christening gown?
Made by my great-great aunt.
My grandfather was baptized in it.
My mom, aunt, uncle, myself, my brother, and my son were all baptized in it.
And now Eliana's been baptized in the same gown.

My Brother Jon

Disney World -- March 2004

I know this photo was taken quite some time ago. (I was quite thin and younger looking compared to now.)
I was browsing through my photos and found this one, which has always been a favorite.
This is my brother Jonathan.
He has Cerebral Palsey.
I know he looks checked out in this photo, but I promise he almost always has a smile on his face.
I think he was yelling at whoever was taking the photo to hurry up and take the photo already!

My brother's CP was hard on me when we were growing up.
For a long time, I didn't understand why Jon didn't or wouldn't do the things that the rest of us did.
I remember a little wooden children's table and chair set in our bedroom.
(I must have been about five or six.)
I kept putting Jonathan in a chair so that he could sit at the table and have a tea party with us.
He must have been about two then. Old enough that I knew he should be able to play with us but light enough that I could pick him up.
Jon kept falling out of the chair, tipping sideways and hitting his head on the floor.
I kept picking him up and putting him back in the chair.
When my step-mom came in and discovered what I was doing, I got a good putch on the hinder and a talking to. "Don't you know he can't hold himself up?" I remember her yelling at me.
That was the moment it finally clicked for me.

For several years, I understood Jon's physical limitations but not his mental.
I talked to him like he was any other kid.
I made my mom show him the pictures and words in books. "How is he going to learn to read if you don't show him the pages?" my mom recalls me saying.

Can you imagine the pain I felt when I heard him crying, asking his mom why he couldn't come out and play with the rest of us kids?
I stayed inside with him one time. He asked me why he wasn't like the other kids.
He asked me why no one wanted to play with him.
He asked why he couldn't walk or run.
He told me he was going to walk someday.

When I got to high school, Jon was my buddy.
I helped with bathing, bathroom, feeding, general care.
I took him to movies or out for ice cream or just a cruise in the car.
I let him brush my hair and we would snuggle and just talk.
We were very close at one point.

I moved away for my senior year of high school, and that's when our relationship really started to dissolve.
My brother Mike sort of took up my role.
Jon seemed to think I had abandoned him.
When Mike moved out, my sister Bethany took up the role.

Now Jon lives in a group home.
He has a job.
He has friends.
He goes shopping, out to eat, enjoys a good beer from time to time, loves bowling.
But he seems acutely aware of how different he is. He seems to get depressed from time to time.

Yesterday, my brother turned 24.
Pretty good for a kid whom the doctor's told my step-mom wouldn't live through the night.
He was three months premature in 1987.

Linny and Aaron Swinging by a Tree, Smiling so Very Happily!

10/18/11

This photo was taken nearly three years ago.
Not much has changed.
Aaron's parents still have that swing in their front yard.
My husband is still in desperate need of a hair cut.
I still have those shoes. (I actually wore them with my wedding dress last October.)

One thing has changed.
See those smiles?
We don't smile like that anymore.
My face is pure joy. I can barely contain myself.
My husband's face is similar.

This was at the beginning of our relationship.
Aaron's mother was actually relieved that we had started dating. She had to document it.

Is the change in our smiles good or bad?
I'm not quite sure.
I've been reflecting a lot about how much our lives have changed in the last three years.
It's bittersweet, really.
I miss the giddiness, the flutterbys in my tummy, the thrill of a new relationship.
I thought he'd never stop looking at me like I was new.
We were so excited to get to be with each other.

Like all relationships, the newness wears off.
I don't get all school-girly when I think of him.
All those feeling have been replaced by a much deeper and richer love.
Aaron is my family now. We're a team. He's my best friend.
I can't live without him.
But we also don't appreciate each other the way we should.
There's far too much bickering over the kids, housework, getting out of the door on time.

Our one year anniversary is coming around the corner. It's less than two weeks away.
I've been trying to figure out what to plan.
I don't think he's going to plan anything, and I'm determined to have a fantastic time.
I've decided to be proactive--don't let myself be disappointed if I find something and plan it myself.
Dracula dinner theater?
Wine tasting in Door County?
A trip to Wisconsin Dells?
Hmmm... decisions, decisions.

Day 02 -- 30 Day Photo Challenge

Day 02 - A picture of you and the person you have been closest with the longest

My brother has been there for every wonderful and terrible thing I've been through or done. And he still loves me. I love my brother and am proud of him. I can honestly say he has been the person I've been the closest with the longest.

30 Day Photo Challenge -- Day 01

I'm doing the 30 Day Photo challenge for a few reasons.
1) It looks kind of fun!
2) Look at how depressing this blog has gotten. UGH!
3) I don't always know what to blog about and this is a guaranteed filler for 30 days!

Day 01 -- A photo of myself with 10 facts

1) I love Duluth. I would live there if it didn't mean leaving the Kiel/Cleveland area.
2) Despite my objections to overly loud music around my children, there's nothing I love more than blowing the speakers up in the living room and listening to vinyl.
3) I make the conscious decision to be happy.
4) I'm secretly embarassed that I'm not a girly-girl--that I don't know how to use make up, style my hair or dress.
5) I hate being referred to as "wife" or "wifey". HATE IT! I know that becoming a wife and mother has contributed to who I am, but I feel that the term is degrading. It has a negative connotation, like I should be barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen, cooking, cleaning, and obeying my husband's every order. That's not what God intended for marriage, and I think a lot of people who use that term towards me don't understand that.
6) I don't feel like anyone really knows me. But I think I feel that way because I don't know me. My own feelings often surprise me.
7) I don't like being gluten-free. I miss drinking Honey Weiss.
8) I embarass myself on a daily basis. Ridiculous things. Like walking into a classroom and getting my bag stuck on the door and then getting physically pulled back. Or tripping over a rug. Or pushing against a door that pulls open. It's borderline slap-stick.
9) I am incapable of b.s. I like to be a straight-shooter. I wear my emotions on my sleeve. It's one of my greatest flaws.
10) My celebrity crushes include Rivers Cuomo, Kevin James, Craig T. Nelson, Claudio Sanchez, and John Nolan. The funniest part is that each of these men in some way remind me of Aaron.

Eliana and Evan -- {pretty, happy, funny, real} edition

If you read my previous posts, you'll find that it hasn't been so happy for me lately, but I'm still finding contentment in my life. The documentation to prove it:

Eliana is turning into a very {pretty} and {happy} baby. Don't you think?

We're big Packers fans in this house. Can you tell?

The joy of being a big brother! Evan is always {happy} to spend time with his baby sister. I think it's {funny} when he lays on the floor next to her and mimicks her sounds and motions and she just stares at him.

Evan loves to hang out with Ellie as she grows and develops into a personality!

Little Eliana has found her smile. She's such a {pretty} and {funny} little thing when she smiles! Her red hair cracks me up! No matter how many generations pass, all the children in my family seem to get that red hair from the Irish stable boy my Swedish great-great grandmother ran away with!

I think Ellie was flirting with her daddy for this picture!

Window washing is such a {real} chore that seems to need to be done everyday. Of course it isn't done everyday. There just aren't enough hours. But the dusting and window washing are a bit of a {happy} time when my sweet little Evan pitches in! Auntie Leila is right--children really can help with the chores if we direct them! And Evan loves the praise I give him for being my "big helper"!

My big helper washes the hand smudges he put on the window. I think they're sweet, but alas! The nanny and therapists do not.

Letting It Out

Yesterday was one of my bad days--the kind when I'm silently moving around the house and the tears just don't stop. This wasn't that uncommon when I was pregnant. I did struggle a lot with post-partum depression, but I don't think that's what this was. I think this was genuine grief.

Before you read on, I want to warn you that you might think I'm ridiculous or maybe I'm a brat. However, I'm being honest and these are the things that matter to me.

From the time I entered kindergarten, I always wanted to be a teacher. I knew somewhere deep within that I was supposed to teach. And then sometime in high school I thought I should be a missionary or join the Peace Corps. I could picture myself in a sharp business suit, the head CEO of some fancy company, nailing deals. Then I thought I'd be a truck driver, cruising the interstates with a dog named Wingo, exploring our beautiful country. At one point, I even thought I'd like to be a minister, but I also knew I wasn't called to lead a church. I don't know why, but I really had it in my head that someday I was going to be off on some great adventure. I might get married. That was a big maybe. I'd never thought seriously about having children. It was one of those "someday" things that I thought I'd do in my 30s.

I was a wild child in high school. I was the untameable, ungettable girl. If a guy dated me for a month, he was lucky. I just got bored easily. I desired a boyfriend, some sort of companionship, but I just wasn't a committer. Maybe it was my great ambition that was holding me back, maybe it was my eating disorder or my major trust issues, but whatever it was I just didn't see myself dating, getting engaged, and settling down into a home with a husband.

Within a month of my freshman year at college, I met a young man who captured my interest and my heart. We liked the same things, he had a great sense of humor, and we really hit it off. I fell hard for this guy. Within six months, we were dreaming about our wedding and what we would name our children. We had these fabulously fun camping trips, would take long drives and sing in the car, and would just spend all day and night together. We were truly happy.

We went on like this for about two years. Then I'm not exactly sure what happened, but he changed. His friends started teasing him that he was whipped, and suddenly he was ditching me when we made plans. Things were pretty rocky and we were arguing a lot, but we moved in together anyway.

Then things really got weird. He started acting differently, he was angry all the time, accusing me of cheating on him and lying to him. I wasn't, and I couldn't convince him of my love or loyalty. Shortly after, we had an argument and he hit me across the face. It had been the first time a man had laid a hand to me as an adult. I said I was done. I wasn't going to stay in a relationship with a man who hit me. That statement just pushed him over the edge, and before I knew it, we were in an all-out fist fight. I ended up grabbing my keys and running out of the apartment as fast as I could.

I later went back to the apartment. He was all apologies, but I knew that it was the end. I told him he needed to move out. It took him a month to find another place to live, and that month was filled with more nights like the one described above. I won't go into details, but it was very ugly. I kept extra clothes in my car and spent nights forty-five minutes away at my grandparents' house whenever I needed to. Within a year of our break up, I found out that he had started doing drugs before we moved in together and had then moved on to Meth and Cocaine when we were living together.

I immediately rebounded to another guy. I'm not sure why. I was so heartbroken and so hurt and angry. Looking back, I realize I was looking for comfort, but it wasn't a healthy form of comfort. I should have stayed single and taken some time to heal, be healthy, and find myself again. Instead, I shacked up with a really nice guy who just wasn't the right guy. We stayed together for two years and I thought of breaking up with him, but I just couldn't find a good reason. I didn't feel like I could leave.

At about the two year mark, I got pregnant. We had been taking measures of prevention, but it happened. My son's dad was thrilled; it took me a couple days to warm up to the idea. Then I felt a calling to be my child's mother. I had never felt anything like it before. I wasn't sure if I was going to stay with my boyfriend, but I was going to have that baby and be its mama. I loved my son before he was born and felt so drawn to him, even before I was showing.

My boyfriend and I got engaged and were going to get married when our son was about 15 months, but I got cold feet. I didn't want to marry him, and I felt like if I did, I'd be making a huge mistake. I knew all about mistakes with relationships with men and just couldn't bare to swallow that pill. I called off the wedding, even though the invitations had been mailed and we were getting response cards in the mail.

When my husband and I started dating, the rules were different. I had a child now. I was still in college, finishing my last year to get my degree and teaching certification. I needed someone serious. My husband was serious. He was fun, devoted, loving, loyal--a true family man.

He proposed a little after a year of dating and we set the date for nearly a year after the engagement. Don't get me wrong--there were some bumps. One of the major bumps was whether or not to have children. I had my Little Shaver and was quite content with him. He was beautiful and perfect. I hadn't really wanted to have kids and now I had one. That was enough. Aaron wasn't sure he could give up having children. He wanted to have three, including my son.

So I thought about it. I thought about my husband and how much I loved him. I thought about how well we got along, how great he was with my son, how loving he was. I thought about my son and how much I loved him. I hadn't been thrilled about getting pregnant, and he certainly wasn't planned. But my heart was his. Surely I could make room in my heart for another child. I decided that if I didn't have any more children, I'd be okay. And Aaron might be okay for a little while. But at some point, maybe five or ten years down the road, wouldn't he regret not having his own? Would he leave? After a lot of thinking, I decided that having one child with my husband was a sacrifice I was happy to make. A child would be a special gift for him and would never be a reason for me to leave or be unhappy.

We got pregnant on our honeymoon and I was a very unhappy pregnant woman, but Scout is truly a blessing. She's a good baby, beautiful, healthy. My son is thrilled to have a sister and my husband has completely melted. I love her with as much of my heart as my son.

But yesterday, while I was moving around the house, picking up toys, scrubbing the toilet, washing dishes, folding loads and loads of laundry, and trying to get the house ready for the next week so that our nanny has a clean work environment, it all just hit me. My big adventure dreams, my painting, my poetry, my carefree days, all long gone. Here I am wiping a loogie off the shower wall, which, by the way, I did not put there, my husband is in the living room happily watching baseball, and I've turned into a maid.

Before I know it, I'm sobbing, resentfully remembering my ruined canvases, my forgotten paints and brushes, my camping gear, as my husband sits on his butt. My James Joyce novels haven't been touched in years. I haven't checked out a library book in the last six months and been able to finish it. My writing--that book of short stories I wanted to write?--I don't even know which flash drive it's saved to anymore. Then I start thinking about our marriage. When's the last time we had a night to spend intimately without being disturbed by a nightmare or a hungry baby? Forget that, when's the last time he's done something sweet or thoughtful, just because? On and on it goes in my head. I'm exhausted from caring for the children, working two jobs, six days a week (yeah, I know I wasn't going to bartend anymore but when you can't afford new shoes for your kid, you'll do just about any job), making dinner every night, doing dishes, washing bottles and clothes. Then I'm thinking about how my husband "half-asses" everything. He puts away all the dishes except the silverware. He changes the baby's diaper but leaves the old diaper on the floor. He gives the baby a bottle, but always forgets to rinse out the finished ones and put them by the sink. He makes a pizza and forgets to turn off the oven. Four months before he proposed, we looked at rings and I showed him a very modest band and engagement ring that fit together for about $500. When he proposed, he gave me a sticky note that said he'd fallen for me and a ring he'd skipped his car payment for which was so far from anything I wanted that I literally cried from disappointment. When is it going to end? This is not what I signed up for.

I don't think my meltdown yesterday was just hormones or depression. I was grieving. I was grieving for the relationship my husband and I have lost, for the dreams I've abandoned, for the person I've become. I love my children and wouldn't trade them for anything. My husband is my family. I don't regret marrying him or having my babies. I just want my cake, and I want to eat it, too. The plans I had for my life were wonderful and beautiful, but sometimes that's just not how life works. Marriage and children are a commitment. They are a great source of happiness, but they also come with a hefty price tag.

I know in my heart that the things I wanted are petty. The cleaning is petty. Hobbies need to get put off for the well-being and raising of my children. It's not forever. Someday I'll get time to paint again. And I don't want to nag my husband for the little things he forgets. They all add up and make extra work for me, but it's not like he does it on purpose. He really does try.

I just feel like sometimes I need to let out my grief in a safe place. I can't discuss this with my husband. I've tried. He doesn't understand. So I'm putting it out there for strangers.

Thankful for Friends and Family

I had to do something embarassing.
I had to call and ask my father for money.





I had squirreled away money for my student loans while in preparation for not working while I was recovering from having my baby.
My husband has sole charge of our collective savings.
He'd been spending it without telling me.
Sigh.
Long story short, we had much less money to live on than I had anticipated.
So here we are, sneaking up on October. I'm back at work and we're able to pay all of our bills except my student loans.
I explained the situation to my father--that if I default or defer, I lose the 5% forgiveness of my interest if I make all my payments on time for the first five years.
He agreed I couldn't miss the payment.
He sent me a check.
Then he sent groceries--fresh meats, canned vegetables, boxed non-perishables--with my grandparents.
I could just cry.
It's embarassing.
It really is.

I love my daughter.
I love that my family is willing to help, even when they are facing their own economic hardships.
Other family members have sent help, which has really helped to get us through.
My husband's work buddies have sent fish which they've caught and cleaned.

I am so thankful that we have such loving friends and family who are moved to help.

The End of Summer {pretty, happy, funny, real} edition

It's been a fire storm of drama and bad news around here lately. Lots of family, friend, and financial issues which seem to be coming to a head and ready to blow at any moment. I'm linking up with the ladies at Like Mother, Like Daughter and have been looking for the contextment of contentment in everyday life this past week!



I've been trying to set a new morning routine, what with Little Shaver getting on the bus this year and our new addition Scout. After getting Shaver on the bus in the morning and Scout down for a nap, Madeline Ann and I have been spending our mornings on the front deck enjoying coffee and sunlight. She's so very {pretty}.

A rare picture of myself and in a {happy} and {funny} moment! Aaron and I went fishing without the kids. As a joke, I put on Shaver's life jacket but couldn't quite make it in. Remember the movie Tommy Boy when Chris Farley puts on David Spade's jacket? "Fat guy in a little coat," he sings. Well I'm a big girl in a little vest!

A {happy} and {real} moment in our home--Shaver loves to hold Scout. He's such a proud big brother, and luckily he ADORES his baby sister! Such moments make my heart melt into a puddle and give me moments of such joy that I seem to forget everything else going on in the world.

As a side note, I've been pumping and having Scout feed from a bottle during the day. I'm hoping to go back to work next week. Most of the time, she's quite willing to take any food source available. (My husband has a wet t-shirt from where she tried to nurse from him to prove it!) I struggle between the guilt I feel in beginning her weaning and the relief I feel from being able to share the responsibility of feeding her and more time with Shaver.

This past Sunday, Scout took an amazingly long nap in which I was able to pick up the whole house, vacuum, and sweep and mop, and Aaron was able to accomplish an incredible amount of yard work. Shaver bounced back and forth between us. I looked outside to check on my men and saw this! What a {happy}, {funny}, {real} moment! My son just adores my husband and is eager to help. Of course his bubble mower doesn't do anything to the lawn but this moment is burned into my memory. I laughed, watching Shaver scamper after Aaron, eager to help and please, and so happy to be involved in the upkeep of our home.

Have a great week!

The Relationship Between my Husband and my Son

My husband is not my father's son.
Gasp.
I know.

Some of you may judge me for that. Before you think about stringing me up over a tree, I think it's fair to remind you that such situations are not that uncommon these days. I believe having him was the right choice. Whether his dad and I had stayed together or not, I have never regretted his conception or birth. He is a sweet, beautiful, loving child. I was a silly girl in college and though precautions were taken to prevent pregnancy, they were unsuccessful. I thank God they were.

Little Shaver loves to do what Aaron does. Here he's following Aaron with his bubble mower as Aaron mows the lawn.

Little Shaver's dad and I tried to make it work. We stayed together through my pregnancy, he was there for the birth, and the first 15 months of Shaver's life. Shaver's dad and I were even going to get married, but I called it off six weeks before the day.



This photo was taken over a year and a half ago. Little Shaver loves to spend time with Aaron in the yard. And Aaron likes to teach him.



We were getting rsvp cards back in the mail, and I just couldn't do it. After seeking advice from my campus advisor and pastor, I finally had a good talk with my campus chaplain. She asked if I was nervous about my wedding day or my marriage. I knew then that getting married, even if it was ideal for my son, was not going to work. I called off the wedding and faced the consequences. And believe me, it wasn't pretty.

Aaron and Little Shaver at the local Easter egg hunt

Aaron and I were friends long before Shaver was even conceived. I would be lying if I said I didn't have a crush on him, even when I was dating Shaver's dad, but he was never the reason I left Shaver's dad.

After I left Shaver's dad, Aaron and I started dating. He took on a young woman with a young toddler who was working two jobs and going to school full-time. Can you imagine what he must feel for me--to want to marry a pretty difficult woman with some baggage and self-esteem issues and an autistic toddler?

It's sad that my son's dad and I aren't together--I've grieved for my son.

However, there are some positive points.



This was Little Shaver on the morning of his birthday this year. Aaron insisted on getting him his own cd player and children's cds.

My husband is a great guy. He truly is. He knows how to handle me and all the attitude I can dish out. He has learned to love and care for my son. He's actually the one who gave my son the nickname "Little Shaver". (I think it stems from my son's fascination with Aaron's shaving...) When he talks about Scout and Shaver, he refers to them as "our children". On some level, he does think of Shaver as his son.

Aaron's parents immediately and happily assumed the role of grandparents. (They even introduce him as their grandson--not my son or their step-grandson. He is their grandson!)

There was a lot of luck, or divine intervention, that made what could have been a really crappy situation good for my son. He gained another father figure and another set of grandparents. Shaver's dad and I are still friends and only live about five minutes from each other. We have promised never to bad mouth each other and have really stuck to that.

Two years ago I was the maid-of-honor for my best friend's wedding, and Little Shaver was the ring bearer. (See the bear? Hehe!) Aaron was good enough to chase Shaver around the rehearsal dinner, dress him for the wedding, and chaperone him down the aisle!

Scout's birth has complicated Shaver and Aaron's relationship. There are days my son isn't perfectly behaved and needs a time out. His autism is hard to deal with at times. Aaron and I both get irritable with him. I remind Aaron that if he doesn't take special time with Shaver like he does for Scout, it will destroy Shaver. That really seemed to click for Aaron, and he's been making a special effort ever since.



Last summer, I was a bridesmaid for my step-mom's wedding. While we girls went shopping, had hair and nails done, and enjoyed a night out together, Aaron was caring for Little Shaver in a town he'd never been in so that I could be a good bridesmaid.



I worry about the relationship between Aaron and Shaver now that Scout has joined the family. Aaron has honestly admitted that he feels differently about Scout than he does about Shaver. He says it's hard for him not to be Shaver's biological dad. That's okay. I feel differently about Shaver than I do about Scout. I think it's natural. I think it's important to work on, but I think there's always something special about your first-born. I just pray that Aaron and I both work on our different feelings and are able to develop and keep great relationships with both our children.