Christmas 2009

I admit. Every year I underestimate my dear husband.
But nothing has ever come close to how it played out this year.
I've been admiring kitchenaid mixer's from a distance for some time: There have been general consensus caucuses held with the mother's of my students . . . . several trips to kitchens to look and admire . . . . visits to the website to read reviews and research the best versions made.
Then I came upon a halting disappointment: Kitchenaid had succumb to the great American capitalistic disappointment. The homegrown American brand was now producing products made in china. . . . WITH PLASTIC GEARS. The more we researched, the more complaints we found. It was heart wrenching. The only line that still comes with the hearty mechanics that you know from your mother's kitchen is. . . brace yourself . . . $500.00.
Brent and I held many a discussion about what to do, and Christmas day crept nearer and nearer.
On Christmas Eve I finally broke down. I cornered Brent and told him that since I hadn't made a decision (who can bring themselves to splurge on a $500.00 mixer?!) that he needed to at least get me something. "Just don't make me go through Christmas without getting anything." I insisted. Even if it was just a simple love letter, getting something with a bow on it would help me feel better.
Brent launched into all the reasons we had decided not to get the mixer - honorably defending his position and exclaiming why he had no gift in the first place: It's too expensive. He insisted a $20 hand mixer would be sufficient. Would I really use it? Would it even last past it's warranty, or worse - break right after the warranty expired?
The depths of sadness enveloped me as I realized that truly, there would be no gift from Santa. There wasn't a logical bone in my body that would justify getting it, and I simply hadn't helped him with any other ideas.
The day continued on . . . we gathered with family and began the traditions and somehow in another Kitchenaid conversation I discovered that my sister-in-law Angie also wanted a mixer for Christmas.
The evening came and presents began to be exchanged. Brent loves doing things publicly. I'm sure it's a direct result of his love for affirmation. He came waltzing in with a small wrapped package and insisted that I open it in front of everyone. I cringed as all eyes turned to me.
"Can't we do this alone?" I hissed.
"No! I want everyone to see what I got you!" he beamed with pride.
With slow hands I unwrapped the gift.
A cook book.
With a letter inside:
"To my sweetheart,
This entitles you to a purchase of one mixer at some point in the future, when we can afford it.
Love, Brent."
At this point in the story, I must give myself credit. I had accepted my lot. I had realized our position. I looked at Brent and with genuine gratitude smiled and thanked him.
Ask anyone there. I was just fine.
Until. Angie's boyfriend brings in a huge giant wrapped package. A heavy box. Puts it in front of her. She opens it. You guessed it. A kitchenaid mixer. Black. Just like I wanted. Everyone is looking at me. And another credit to myself. I looked at her and truly did mean it when I said "I'm happy for you, Angie". And I was. Even though everyone afterwards said my face was a mix of fury and jealousy. But I did mean it. And then Brent started pushing me towards the box, insisting I go look at it closer. I refused and told him I could see it fine from where I was sitting, too frustrated to hear the humor in his voice, or see how his shoulders had started to tremble with laughter.
It was like coming out of a dream. Glancing around, I noticed everyone was still looking at me . . . one smiling face after the other. . . . and then Brent stood up and grabbed the mixer from Angie and handed it to me, as she burst out laughing. "It's yours" he said, "I got you the mixer".
He got me the mixer!!!! The one with METAL GEARS. The $500.00 Professional 600 mixer with 575 watts, a 6 quart bowl, and 10 speeds!!!! But the best part is yet to come: working the magic of MaRea (click here) who is the savviest shopper on planet earth - he got the mixer for LESS THAN THE CHEAPEST MIXER THEY MAKE. Stop it. I'm not kidding you. He got the best mixer, and got it without spending the $500!!
I was beat red and totally in shock. The mixer. Sleek, beautiful black licorice, brand new, with all kinds of attachment options, metal gears, amazing KITCHEN.AID.MIXER!!! And everyone was in on the joke as he handed me the book and card. Afterwards, Angie was truly defiant as she tried to understand why I would believe that she - unmarried and free - would want a mixer for Christmas.
And that, my friends, is the story of how Brent is the best husband ever. Each year I'm sure he'll never pull it off. And each year he surprises me.

California and Thanksgiving

This is JOY. Because I'm on a bike. On the beach.

This is JOY. Because he's on Pebble Beach. With an imaginary golf club.


"I remember that the Gabilan Mountains to the east of the valley were light gay mountains full of sun and loveliness and a kind of invitation, so that you wanted to climb into their warm foothills almost as you want to climb into the lap of a beloved mother. They were beckoning mountains with a brown grass love. . . From both sides of the valley little streams lipped out of the hill canyons and fell into the bed of the Salinas River. . ." - John Steinbeck


We were welcomed with open arms like we were family, given a bed, food, a car . . . time to think, sit, practice, pray, and run and run and run without limits - just space and the rhythm of feet hitting warm pavement. Freedom filled my lungs as I experienced life without a baby for the first time since she was born. At first longing and worry, then the taste of independence caught my breath. It was days of sun; fantastically long and beautiful runs with never ending hills and good music in my ears; fantastic company where new relationships were born and old ones nurtured; great food, much love, gratitude . . . gratitude overwhelmed me. We returned to find Brooklynn had developed a strong relationship with her cousins and grandma, she seemed bigger, happy, and delighted to have had a week at the farm with her grandma.
A Thanksgiving full of reasons for thanksgiving.

I used to feel that this place was a place of safety and openness.
Most places were a place of openness, even if I fought it all with the illusion that I was guarded.
Hello, Old, nice to meet you.
Even though I spend all day doing it, I just can't imagine what it would be like to arrive.
And after all that energy, I have to wonder if in the end, I really want what I imagine.
Life really isn't that bad as it is, after all.
Emily is coming home. Emily, Emily. That other half that is just as emotional and all too logical, and somewhat pathetic and perfectly, yes perfectly Blair, understanding. 5 more weeks and I can hardly keep it all in, this emotion that spills out of me every time I think of being able to just talk, and be heard, and that feeling of uncensored love.
But now there's demons called Anonymous. I fight them in my sleep - warding them off with silver swords like I'm a heroine in a world created in pages. They haunt me and bundle the words up tight in my chest . . . every thought is critiqued, every action analyzed. She has joined the ranks of other powerful demons . . doubt . . . fear . . . . hurt.
What it all boils down to is we all want love, and we all want to feel needed - to feel that we fill someone else up to overflowing.
"Just let me sing." I wake up feeling this way - holding my arms out as if, as if if I just flap enough, one day I'll fly. In the meantime, do you know how silly someone looks flapping their arms up and down, up and down? But maybe the motion of doing so helps someone else think they're doing okay too - that, "see, everyone is trying" motion as you look out of the corner of your eye to see if anyone is watching.
I can't remember a time in my life when honesty has ever seemed so vulnerable. Which is why I know it's time to write. It's time to air these feelings out in the open and let the sun dry out the wetness of it all. I am a loyal friend. Not a friendly friend, but a loyal one. I love the smell of dirt, and the warm of summer. I love the moment right before the sun goes down when the whole world is rocked to sleep by the crickets. I love feeling like we're going to make it - this little family of mine and what we try so hard to hold onto. I love a lot, don't cry enough, and pray for the faith to make it through - - - those days, those days. I am full of a feeling like I'm holding my breathe - a suspension, an anticipation. How I wish that I could be full enough to soar past it all on something more tangible than hope.
Foresight. Wish I had more of it.
Gratitude. Gives me perspective.
Honesty. Honesty is about embracing the often uncomfortable.
And here I sit.

First Family Photos

Big Girl in Braids

This morning our little 14 month old baby turned into a little girl after I put her in braids for the first time.
How does she grow up so fast?!

Halloween

Is just so much more fun when you have a little girl to share it with.

Ready to Read

I've decided to set aside some time each day to read through the winter. My focus right now, for obvious reasons, is parenting. I'll be the first to admit I have no idea what I'm doing - I'm open to any and all advice on the matter. Thus far I've asked some of my favorite people about the books they recommend. My list is growing - please add to it!

A shout out to being able to escape and unwind in the world of TV

Note: Top Ten List created by Melissa. Brent wants to make it clear that he has his own list.


1. Lie to Me


2. GLEE


3. (coming again soon): Friday Night Lights


4. Community


5. So You Think You Can Dance


6. 30 Rock


7. The Mentalist


8. The Office


9. Smallville


10. (and yes, one for learning about time outs) . . . Supernanny

Desperate for White

Having a baby in the house has caused quite a learning curve with laundry. Naturally, even with the most delicate care, by the end of the day, Brooklynn's shirts are filthy. 7:30 PM means peeling off the sweet potato and honey baked layers and dropping them into the laundry basket.
I've done everything I can think of to get the whites to go back to white. I've tried the remedies that people swear by - oxyclean, bleach, pre-soaking and no-drying . . . . to no avail.
There are just stains that WILL NOT be removed. It seems each "new" shirt from Kid to Kid is ruined after the first time she wears it - what I can't figure out is how the people who sold the shirt to the Second Hand store got it looking brand new . . . how come I can not reproduce this miracle?!
I'm at the point where I'm beginning to think the problem is our 1980's washer that only works if the door is propped shut with a jimmy-rigged system that we've created. I know. I can't wait for the day that we can be more eco-friendly and wash clothes in the newest front load washer. Until then, I'm reaching out for some help on the matter. Any ideas on how to beat the stains?!!

Diagnosed!!

"Roseola often starts with a sudden high fever [103 F to 105 F] that lasts 2 to 3 days, although it can last up to 8 days. The rapid increase in temperature may be the first sign of roseola and often occurs before you realize that your child has a fever. The fever ends suddenly. After the fever ends, a rosy-pink rash may appear mostly on the trunk (torso), neck, and arms. The rash is not itchy and may last 1 to 2 days. In rare cases, a sore throat, stomach ache, vomiting, and diarrhea occur. A child with roseola may appear fussy or irritable and may have a decreased appetite, but most children behave almost normally. The roseola rash will go away without medical treatment. Roseola mostly spreads from infected people who don’t show symptoms. It is generally a harmless viral infection."

Yesterday a light rash started to appear on Brooklynn's chest and throat, ironically about an hour before our follow up appointment with our pediatrician. Dr. Vandenberghe took about 30 seconds looking her over and declared "I'm 95% sure that she has this virus". I was so incredibly relieved to hear a diagnosis and to know she was going to be perfectly healthy again in just a few days. We go in for one last blood test on Friday just to make sure her blood count has gone back to normal. The doctor says not to worry about this, it's just precaution.
Yeah for Doctors! Yeah for awesome pediatricians who care! Yeah for Brooklynn who is a brave little girl and who pulled through it like a champ. She's sleeping sweetly as we speak - cute little doll.
Thanks again everyone for all of your concern and empathy. One ER hurtle down! (hopefully not many more to go).

Our Wild Weekend of Horror

At 10 PM on Sunday night Brent and I finished a movie and headed upstairs to bed. We heard Brooklynn awake in her room, so I went in to check on her because she'd been feeling pretty sick for two days. The minute I picked her up I knew something was terribly wrong - her head was on fire and her body limp. She kept her eyes shut as I lay her down to check her temperature, rolling her head around as she moaned.
The thermometer read 105.8
I yelled to Brent to get a cold wash rag and immediately started stripping the clothes off her body. We rushed her outside into the car and up to the ER as I called the doctor on call from my cell phone. When we got to the hospital I stood in line, anxiously looking at the room FULL of sick kids, wondering how long our wait would be.
"How may I help you" the receptionist looked at me from her desk.
I quickly described our problem. "a hundred and what?!" she quickly stood up from her desk and motioned us to come back to be seen immediately.
Within minutes they had IV's pumping into our little baby's body, with monitor patches all over her chest and alarms beeping away. They later told me that their chart that converts from Fahrenheit to Celsius for fevers did not even go up as high as she was registering.
We got to the hospital at 10:15 PM, and spent a total of 6 hours taking and waiting for tests in the ER. Brooklynn wasn't old enough to understand what was happening, but she learned quickly that she didn't like the people wearing the color green. She started saying her first version of "no", every time they entered the room she would look at Brent and I, and say over and over "Na Na Na", shaking her head. When that didn't work she started waving "bye bye" to all the nurses and doctors when they entered the room, I'm sure wishing they would take the hint. She cuddled her blankee, eyes red, as they kept running tests.
It broke my heart to hold her as they pushed tubes down her nose and needles into her arms over and over for blood tests. They did X-Rays and Urinary tract catheters, swabbing this and swabbing that.
It was the longest night of our lives.
At 5 AM, after virtually no sleep and a stressful night of "what if's" they decided to admit us because her white blood cell count was abnormal and they wanted to keep her for observation. After filling out more forms, Brent left us to go home, and I shut off the blazing white hospital lights in our new room. It was 6 AM, our baby had been awake longer than she has ever been awake, and through all those hours endured a lot of painful experimentation. She held onto me like a scared little monkey, wrapping her arms around my chest and through her tubes, holding on tight.
I lay down on the hard cot provided for me in the room, and sang her lullaby after lullaby. Brooklynn and I slept on and off for the next 4 hours, often waking up to her whimpering or to one of the machines erupting in beeps, followed by nurses coming in to check her vitals. As she lay there on my chest hour after hour, I loved her more than I ever had before. That night, within just a few minutes, every other detail in my life melted away and my whole world become my little girl. Instantly I had perspective on what matters - nothing could have come between me and my baby. I lay there and thought of God's love, and how he must feel watching us go through the crappy parts of life.
When I wasn't sleeping I watched the numbers on the monitor above us, her heart beat coloring the screen. Her first tests showed her heart rate at 221. Normal baby hearts pump at 120. It was horrifying to watch, heart-breaking to go through, and so exhausting overall.
The next morning she sat up, crying and moaning and looking at her paw all wrapped up in tape so she couldn't pull off the IV again, looked at me with those big eyes and said in the softest voice "Dada." I called Brent and he came up immediately to hold his little girl close.
Yesterday they let us go, on the condition that we live close by and that we could get back quickly if anything went wrong. Brent and I pleaded with them to let us out because we were confined to 1 room. When Brooklynn was on meds she was going CRAZY wanting to run around, which the tubes didn't let her do (she succeeded in pulling out one IV - blood everywhere - and they had to re-do it), and when she wasn't on meds she was miserable, throwing her body around without consolation.
I knew going home would mean her own toys, her own bed, and less people in green (although all the hospital staff were so helpful).
This morning Brooklynn's temperature is 100.9 without meds. She seems to be feeling slightly better - she won't eat, but she will drink. Her face is bloated due to the fluids in her body, and she's a bit more unstable than usual on her feet.
Every test that we took came back negative, meaning she doesn't have the Swine Flu, or 6 other viruses they tested for, nothing in her chest cavity, nothing in her urinary tract, nothing in her sinuses, or in her blood. We actually don't have a clue what is wrong with her - she had no other symptoms other than the fever and lack of appetite.
We go in for more tests this afternoon, but our hope is it's a virus they didn't check for and that it goes away in the next few days.
I can't believe the out poring of love we have seen. Cami met us when we got home Sunday with a gourmet hot meal that could have been made in heaven. We've been sent emails and phone calls of concern, my dad showed up like a silent angel Sunday morning in our room and gave Brooklynn another blessing as she slept.
I am grateful for experiences like this. With all of the horrific detail that you pass through, there is a sweetness that comes that you don't get elsewhere. A sweetness of family and how they are always the first there, and the most to care. A sweetness of friends who stay up late worrying and bring by popsicles and cookies for a 13 month girl who has lost her appetite. A sweetness of motherhood when you're the one she pulls to when she's crying "momma momma". A sweetness in your marriage as you hold the hand of the only other person who you know actually feels what you are feeling and that moment that you look at each other and just know, that you're in it together. A sweetness in your relationship with God, as you pass through an understanding, a slice of the depth of emotion He feel towards all of His children.

Brooklynn the Cowgirl

Happy Birthday Brooklynn!

Brooklynn Eva Thatcher
Born at 8:34 PM, September 10th 2008

Once upon a time there was a couple who were very much in love. They decided they wanted to start a family.
Soon they found out they were going to have a baby. The couple was very excited.
Then one night the baby was ready to arrive. On that night you were born.

On the night you were born, mommy was busy teaching violin lessons.
Daddy was busy golfing. Two weeks early from heaven you came –
Mommy called Daddy, and he left his game.

On the night you were born, mommy wasn’t so sure that you were really going to come
Although daddy tried to tell mommy that they needed to run
Mommy waited until she thought it was too late
Then Daddy and Mommy to the hospital they raced

The car zipped so fast down the road,
As mommy sat in the back and groaned.
Into the hospital they quickly leapt
As the doctor hurried to keep up step

9 minutes later you entered our world
with hair black and long, all of it curled.
You came in a hurry, each step of the way
With sweetness unmatched you came to stay

That night a sunset burned the sky
That made people stop before passing by
Eyes turned to Heaven, as yours turned to us
Little hands, little feet – all little, but enough.

The night you were born was an evening like no other
The whole hospital staff was there to help your mother
They couldn’t believe how fast you came
They couldn’t believe what a beautiful mane

On the night you were born the first thing that you heard
Was your mommy saying “oh my baby, my baby”, soft like a bird
And your daddy he came and wrapped you tight
Then we stayed with you always, all through the night.

You are your daddy’s little puppy
You are your mommy’s baby girl.
We will always remember the night you entered our world.

Friends, You ROCK. HIIII YYYAAAAAAA Anonymous!!

Dear Anonymous

I view myself as an honest person. In fact, I relish honesty by surrounding myself with people who I feel I can be honest with - people who appreciate me saying out loud the sometimes not said out loud things, and offering the vulnerability of expressing my failures.
For this reason I do respect your post.
However, I don't respect that you failed to mention who you are.
There is such safety in staying anonymous. You can sit back and take the position of a critic and expert without ever going out on a limb like I did in writing about one moment, one real moment, in the life of me: a new mother.
And in being honest, I must say that your response did in fact frustrate me.
I've lived long enough to recognize when someone is manipulative, being outwardly critical and then using a side door out by saying things like: "in case you view this as critical, it is not meant to be". Another lie. Your comment WAS meant to be critical.
I'd like to take you back to the moment after your first child came into the world - not the many moments of fun and laughter, but that one moment that I think EVERY new mother has where you suddenly, and with maybe a bit of shock, realized that life will never be quite the same.
Maybe others, maybe you even, never have had this moment. Maybe you knew all along the exact changes and ways that it would bleed into another life. Maybe you knew all along the pay offs and how things would unfold.
I, on the other hand, am learning. I am a student of this new life that my baby has brought with her, and I am happily engaged in the ups and downs that come with it. If you read my blog often you'll notice I post about both.
However, I am not like you, I suppose: I do express frustration at times, and in this last "vacation" this frustration took me completely by surprise. I would like to think that those who really know me know that this moment captured in words was that: a moment, and that I do embrace and love being a mother.
The bottom line is that if I knew who you were, and respected you, I'd be the first one signing up for a lesson on how to be a better mother. I find it "sad" that you didn't have the courage to reveal yourself.

Mission: Jackson Hole

Every year I wait as excitement builds for my favorite annual trip to the Tetons. The first Summer that Brent and I were married we spent over a week backpacking my favorite trails and hiking through awesome forrest.



Note the sheer joy on my face. That is freedom my friends, freedom in all of it's glory.

The second year I was 9 1/2 months pregnant but we still hauled ourselves up some awesome peaks, with virtually every person we passed on the trail asking when I was due.


This year was our third annual trip. I've worked hard all year and had literally made the journey to the familiar teton range into some amazing glorification of all things wonderful: the smell of pine and the sound of it crunching under your hiking boot, the whisper of Aspen trees as the breeze sorts through the leaves, the feeling of packing everything you need to live on your back. I was SO READY for my trip.
However, it was our first real trip with a baby. screeeeccccchhhh. A what?! A baby. Yup, I had no idea what I was in for.
I packed the night before, including everything we'd need to make the trip a success. I scheduled the drive so that she would be perfectly on her nap schedule. What I didn't anticipate was Brooklynn completely REFUSING to nap in the car. Result: very cranky baby for the entire 6 hour drive up. Consequence: NO possibility of a hike the minute we arrived like I'd planned. Instead, we're checking into a hotel and putting up the pack n' play - desperate for somewhere for the papoose to snooze - Brent and I standing around outside the hotel room twidling our thumbs as the baby finally falls asleep.
After a few hours we wake the baby up and get in the car for attempt number two at a hike. Daylight is running short so we anxiously pull up to the park entrance, only to have the ranger tell us that this entrance is closed and we need to drive 60 minutes to the other side of the park to enter.
Baby starts to cry.
I want to cry with her.
"Stay flexible. stay flexible" I mumble under my breathe. Okay, I can do this. Change of plans. We go to dinner. Baby makes a HUGE mess and I realize why we no longer dine at places that are anything but kid friendly.
I'm exhausted. Brooklynn's exhausted. Brent's exhausted. We decide to do the hotel thing again.
Brent wants to watch a movie. Brooklynn is in the same room as us. Not going to happen. Somehow Brooklynn has come down with (yes, in the 8 hours we've been there) a nasty cold. She can't breathe. I'm grateful that for no reason I packed the bag of baby medicine essentials. Brooklynn still won't sleep. We spend the first half of the night with her waking up every two hours screaming and me trying desperately to get her to calm down before she wakes up the rest of the hotel.
Finally we shove her pack and play into the bathroom and shut the door. I'm done. She's done. Brent's done.
Groggily we wake up a few hours later when alarms ring telling us to get up, time to hike!
I slam the alarm to the floor and roll over with red eyes.
After a few attempts to rally the troops we finally get everything packed and walk out the door to get a move on. Immediately we are welcomed by the weather of the day: pouring rain.
RAIN.
YES. RAIN. COLD, FREAKIN, PATHETIC, WET, RAIN.
I can't even function I'm so broken hearted. We preserver. We WILL go hiking. Brent, obviously, is a Saint.
We spend the first 45 minutes looking for some type of a jacket we can buy for Brooklynn because obviously I didn't pack for RAIN.
After about an hour of looking at all the Jackets Jackson Hole has to offer little babies, I can't bring myself to spend the $100 required. Instead, we put Brooklynn in her pajamas and then layer up every item of clothing we brought, including the lunch and dinner caked one she wore yesterday.
Finally.
This time, we go in the right entrance of the park and get to our destination just as Brooklynn is starting to fuss because, yes, it's morning nap time.
I buy a poncho and wrap her up in it - yes, I wrapped my baby up in plastic. That's how pathetic we were at this point.
Brent is still a Saint.
We begin the trek. Brooklynn finally slouches uncontious in her pack and I insist Brent stops every 15 steps so I can check to make sure she can breathe. Needless to say, we don't get very far.
We climb the first little hill, take a look at the view, get passed by a few overweight tourists, climb back down, get to the boat to take us across the lake and have the stupid guide look at us and with all the mocking he can muster and say "sooooo. How did you enjoy your WALK?" I almost burst into tears. I wanted to tackle him and start punching his face with each and every bit of frustration in my heart. "DO" punch punch "YOU" punch punch punch "KNOW WHAT IT TOOK TO GET THIS FAR?" punch punch punch punch. I imagine the whole scene in my mind.
Brent squeezes my hand, I think he can feel it getting hot.

Note the baby in plastic in the pack.


Do not be deceived by our happy smiles.
We return to the car, wind and rain whistling around us. I am done. Beat. Welcome to motherhood with a big fat slap in the face. Congratulations! You will never experience freedom like you have before! This is the beginning of no hiking, no vacations, no anything but nap times and schedules that you are due to live by. Good luck!
Originally we were going to stay another day. Originally we were going to do a lot of things.
We got in the car and drove home. Not before Brooklynn woke up and then stayed up the whole drive, of coarse.
And that, my friends, is how I learned that life is NOT the same after you have kids.
Every bit worth it, but a learning curve non-the-less.