".......for when she wakes she will move mountains."
Taylor had drill this weekend. So I've spent the last two nights alone. No big deal.
But for some reason, I was convinced I was going to die last night. I pictured it like this: I'd fall asleep eventually, around 1:30 am. My brain wouldn't shut off last night. I was pretty sure I was having a brain aneurysm (I felt a tightening in my temples), and that I would die immediately. Poor Sawyer would wake up, hungry. He'd be attached to his food pump, his g-tube would come out, and the hole in his belly would close up. He'd cry, slapping me in the face to wake up, and would eventually fall back asleep from exhaustion. We'd miss church. Sawyer would wander around the house, picking up crumbs from the floor, talking to his halloween pumpkin bucket. Hershey would probably lick my face and then finally late, in the afternoon, Taylor would return home to a hungry, dehydrated little boy and a dead wife.
WHY do I think about this kind of stuff? At night? Right before bed? In reality, my temples were tight because I chewed the crap out the gum from halloween the past two days. I probably couldn't sleep because I had a diet Dr. Pepper at dinner, and it's probably a good thing I was awake at 2:45 a.m. because Sawyer decided to pull his g-tube out of his belly. Had I not heard the sound of tape being ripped from his stomach, it probably would have been a bad situation. Because I was alone and would have slept right through it.
For real, I need to get a handle on my Double Bubble Bubblegum obsession. And maybe I should invest in Life Alert and teach Hershey how to push the button should such an occasion arise.
Tonight, I will get out my Lavender essential oils and lotions and fall asleep to my favorite show (The Office), knowing that it's safe to turn off my brain, my ears, and quiet my fears, if only for the night. I prefer facing my demons in the light of day, after I've eaten a balanced breakfast and had my usual morning diet coke.
I'm not a blogger. I don't own a business to advertise online. I deactivated my Facbook account again, and I am not a fan of Twitter. I stopped crazily baking everything from Pinterest, so I use it mostly to look at what other random people are pinning. I use Instagram for convenience, but I have like 20 followers. Though, if I were a blogger, owned a business, and enjoyed socializing with my friends and family through Facebook, then I would live up to the standards set by my generation. Unfortunately, I'm not that cool and the thought of trying to be overwhelms me.
I mentioned that I'm trying to cut out about half of the stuff in my daily life that doesn't necessarily help my progression or thwarts growth. Oddly enough, maintaining this blogspot has really helped me more than I give credit for. It's not for self-promotion, to sell anything, or to necessarily make friends. It's not for others, it's for me.
I started blogging one random day a few summers ago (like five years ago), and it was before any of my friends blogged. So, I blogged a lot of silly stuff. Then I got married and suddenly my life was exposed to a lot of eyes and it absolutely influenced how I blogged from then on. It introduced a new pressure of representing not just myself, but my husband, his family, his friends, and everyone in the mix, in the very best way. I deleted some of my best posts because I didn't want to offend anyone- When really, I just want to write funny stories about my most embarrassing, private moments, because those are the best stories, and because I like to go back and read those stories.
I don't blog for feedback. Sometimes I cringe when I see someone has commented on a pointless, stupid post about nothing significant. I feel bad that I'm putting out material that is mediocre and doesn't truly represent my truest self.
I've changed tremendously in five years, but I'm still the same. I've thought a lot about deleting this blog, hence the lack of posts, but sometimes I just need somewhere to release or collect my thoughts and have the buffer of anonymity to protect me from being liable of saying something that's wrong, or masked, in attempt to protect mine, my family's, my husband, and his family's image.
So, I'm giving vapdance (haha good one) another go 'round because, simply put, I want to. I'm turning comments off. I have no idea if anyone reads this or disagrees with my philosophies or perspective on little issues. I have no idea what my audience is, and I'm not worried about offending anyone because if you're reading this, you've been warned. All I want is to go to a place in my life where I can announce little things, like, "I planted hollyhocks in my front yard today", followed by a picture. So that in a year, I can look back on how my hollyhocks have grown and thrived. Those are the things that interest me, that I am interested in promoting, and want to share with whomever passes through at any random time.
Speech, over. La vie est belle. Now I want to blog about it.
After a weird summer of filling my days with seemingly meaningless "busy" work, all that was rewarded with the homecoming of my husband from his six month obligation with the US Navy. He graduated from boot camp, A school, then C school. On September 21, 2012, he texted me at 8:30 am saying "DONE DONE and DONE." I let out a huge sigh. His flight didn't arrive until 11:30 p.m. that same day to Salt Lake City Airport, but we were both wide awake enough to drive home and sleep in our own bed, together, finally.
And then the very next day was the first day of Fall. My favorite season ever-next to Winter. And with the change of seasons came a fusillade of decisions of what's next for our family. I have kind of been a basket case, once again, as we try to work out the finite details and still try to enjoy ourselves as a family in great circumstances and happy times and smiles and late-night movie watching and ice cream dates. While it's all so sooo good, I have been wrestling with my insecurities that seem to always surface during uncertainty. If I learned one thing from our time apart, it is that I just need to trust in the Lord and trust my husband will come through and get us where we need to be.
I realized how overzealous I get, and last year was the perfect example of this character flaw. Coming home from Primary's was a huge adjustment on many levels, and presented new and different types of stress. I misinterpreted the stress and decided I needed to be superwoman in every capacity. So many people helped me get through my weird pregnancy and subsequently weird labor and post-par tum situation. Like, literally saved me! I owed my life, money, most prized possessions, and whatever it took to return the favors. I earnestly looked for ways to help everyone around me in need. I had an infant who needed me, but I took on bigger obligations. I had a husband who needed me, but I gave my attention to others. I took one for the team several times by insisting on serving, at any cost, because I felt I'd be ungrateful if I didn't over-extend myself and my resources (though limited) and my talents to care for the welfare of others. Then suddenly, I woke up and my husband was gone and it was finally apparent how badly I needed him, how badly he needed me and how badly my baby really just needed my time.
I am all about over-extending oneself when the time calls for it. And I know that all my efforts were done with good intentions, as we have been blessed beyond measure. Writing this post has been hard. But I feel strongly that my time should be spent focused on the two people who need it most. I felt like I need to challenge myself to cut out extra activities and put husband and child before all else. It seems selfish and maybe ignorant when there are so many people who could use something from me, by me, through me, and with me. Though I want to, love to, and can help, right now I can't over-extend myself and I can't feel bad for feeling that way.
Taylor will be attending school wherever he can work, too. I'll update as soon as we find out where our paths take us! WELCOME HOME SEAMAN TAYLOR!!
I can honestly say this past summer has been...unique.
Every morning, I'd wake up to Sawyer slapping me in the face. My first thought was, "Here we go again." We'd ascend the stairs, slowly making our way to the bright morning light pouring into the kitchen. I'd watch Sawyer squint his eyes. Then I'd kiss his cheek because I love his morning face. Straight to his room, I change his diaper, then I use the bathroom, then I turn on the TV and strap him in his "eating" chair. I find the right channel, turn off the front porch light, then get his pump ready for breakfast. As soon as he is settled in, getting fed, and has cartoons on, I have about 45 minutes to shower, tidy the house, and eat breakfast. I have it down to a science.
During the day, we alternate between the same four or five activities. Each activity involves me, even nap time. I have to lay down with him, sing Primary songs, encourage him to close his eyes. Sometimes, I fall asleep with him, convinced that as a single mom, the only way I'll last the day is to "sleep when he sleeps." Never once have I regretted taking those naps.
I was included in a lot of social activities. Ones that required me to entrust in the help of a babysitter. It was stressful and sometimes more work than it was worth, but I always benefited from taking those breaks. With the help of others, in the process, Sawyer has gotten to know his cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents on both sides really well, so much so that whenever we have visitors, he goes nuts out of pure excitement. His favorite person in the world? Grandpa. You can be the best parent in the world, but nothing quite compares to the power of the Grandparent/Grandchild dynamic.
I moved our king size bed downstairs after we got carpet in April. That move aided in many nights of deep slumber, thanks to the cooler temperature and lack of natural light. I cleaned out the garage and painted the floor with cement paint. I cleaned out the shed and rearranged the tools and storage. I threw away a lot of crap. I loved Wednesdays because that's garbage day and it always felt so good watching the garbage can empty. I took three online classes, and passed each one. I attempted to hire a contractor to remodel the upstairs bathroom, but chickened out at the last minute. I filled an entire garbage dumpster with landscaping rocks only to find out it was way too heavy to move to the sidewalk, so I dumped most of it out and am slowly throwing away a bucket or two every week. This last weekend, I moved my king size bed back up to our upstairs room, after I re-painted the walls and every inch of trim. I hung up roman shades, a mirror, and curtains in the kitchen. My hands are rough and calloused, but after learning how to use a power drill, I'm convinced I could build my own house. Or at least put the curtains up by myself.
I traveled across the country twice. I wrestled with a toddler on five airplanes for the sake of seeing my husband.
I frequented Fred Meyer almost daily. I thought about opening a grocery store that you can drive-through and pick up your groceries so you don't have to pack and unpack your child every time you need one or two things from the store.
My little sister moved in for a month. I doggie-sat for my little brother's dog, Jack. Jack got ran over two weeks ago and I cried a lot.
I got called to serve in the nursery in April. I had to adjust for this calling because Sawyer can't do three-hour blocks. Not now, at least. So, I have to miss sacrament every week, and go babysit for the last two hours of church. I'm happy to serve in the nursery, so long as I never have to serve while preggo.
I drove back and forth to Primary Children's Medical Center on average twice a month. Sawyer's last treatment on his esophagus went smoothly, so the Doctor okayed us waiting at least a month or two for the next treatment.
The days start to blur together and there are times when I wake up and really have to think about what day of the week it is. Sometimes I get caught up in my thoughts, and I would have to take Sawyer for a walk to clear my head. I stopped making dinner and just ate bowls of cereal instead. I made cookies or other Pinterest goodies weekly. I gained 5 lbs and don't even care anymore. I read the Hunger Games series, as well as my favorite book Mrs Mike (twice) in between school assignments.
I let my hair grow after getting it cut dreadfully short in February. I hated life for the first few months of short hair, but now it's long enough to pull up in a pony tail, leave it down, or make it wavy. I'm starting to look more like a girl now.
Finally, and most importantly, I devoted my heart to my loving husband as I've endured circumstances beyond my control. I isolated myself from outside worries to snuggle with Sawyer every chance he'd let me. I think a lot about my temple marriage and how valuable it is to me. I drew closer to and allowed the Spirit to convert me time and time again. I've sinned. I've repented. I've grown and healed and have such a clearer perspective on life.
I didn't come across any Sasquatches, peeping Toms, or Spirits, and for the most part, people called me first before coming over so I wasn't spooked out when I heard a knock on the door. On a totally unrelated note, one night I totally left my keys in my front door, with my car in the driveway. Sometimes I truly wonder where my brain is.
And now, I can officially (and happily) say: bring on the Fall!!
Sunday, July 22, 2012
Searching for comfort has been a lifelong goal of mine. A place where I could run to, hide, and feel safe. On the playground on freezing days, I'd curl into a ball with my limbs in my coat and my hood pulled all the way covering my head. I'd sit like that til I heard the bell because my coat was cozy and playing on the toys looked like torture to me. Sometimes I think about how I used to do that and am embarrassed that I would rather spend recess alone, hiding in my coat, than huddled with my friends, or raising my body temperature through good ol' exercise. But I totally see why it was something I did. I've always been more concerned about getting through uncomfortable moments as comfortably as possible.
During my pregnancy, I made a playlist with songs from my past. Songs that had awesome, sweet, happy memories tied to them and I'd play them because they didn't make me sick. They already had a place in my brain and they were considered "safe" songs. Even now, I have a few songs that make me nauseous because they were overplayed on the radio during the summer I was preggo. Anyways, doing that has kind of been the beginning of me searching for comfort in everyday objects. Things that would normally have one meaning in my brain, are now comforting.
For example. Sawyer uses wet wipes from Costco. They come in a blue package and they smell nice. We used them consistently for the first months he was home. Sometimes, I'll buy wipes from somewhere else, go through them, and realize I miss the Costco wipes because of the emotional ties I have with them. Somehow, knowing I'm using Costco wipes comforts me because it reminds me of being home with my baby.
Listening to the opening theme song to Downton Abbey reminds me of cozy nights cuddling with my husband watching episode after episode. And when he left, I'd play it as background noise because it temporarily made me feel like nothing drastic had happened, that life was the same as before and all is well.
My car was handed down to me by my dad. He gave it to us while we were in Salt Lake. It was the first car I could be in that didn't make me nauseous, because cars in general made me sick. This car smelled like pine trees and cologne. Perfection. It smells like my dad and how I could remember him growing up. I can't imagine driving another car, ever again, unless it makes me as nostalgic as this one now. Plus, it was the car we brought Sawyer home in, so I am emotionally attached to the image in my head of that particular, happy, joyous day.
Even little things, like the type of binkies we buy or the type of syringes we use, the brand of baby lotion or the routine of bath time are all imprinted in my brain as euphorically happy moments and anything else is an impostor.
Taylor's house on Redwood makes my heart swell whenever I think about it. It was where he lived while we dated, where we fell in love, where we talked about sharing the rest of our lives together. It smelled like him whenever I walked in. It had the potential to be our first home, where I imagined we'd be as newlyweds.
Salt Lake City is comforting to me. Driving on I-15 reminds me of my childhood with my family all listening to Les Miserables, and I'd try to hold back tears during "I Dreamed a Dream." It reminds me of going to Temple Square and not understanding the true beauty of temples, as I happily, blissfully sipped my hot chocolate and imagined my future husband bringing me to that exact place.
I think as I get older, I realize how important tradition is. I'm making small traditions by repeating practices and patterns that bring a sense of peace during otherwise uncomfortable times. It probably wouldn't hurt to go out and play once in a while, and I do. But there's also nothing wrong with sitting with your toddler on the couch on a rainy day, watching his new favorite show, Good Luck Charlie, just to know that he's happy and feels safe and cozy. Those are moments I wouldn't trade for anything else.
I know this is just a minor problem, but married people should never be apart for longer than 2 months. EVVER.
I once spent 2 months away from Taylor because I was too pukey from morning sickness to live at our house...The day finally came when I had the energy to drive somewhere, so I got in my car and drove home. It was night time. Taylor was just watching a made for TV Terminator movie in the dark, by himself. He smiled, then turned off the TV and helped me lay down in bed. I looked forward to night times, at home, in my own bed next to my husband, when the house was cool and not disgustingly smelly. I swore to myself I would never go 2 months without my husband again. It's against everything I believe in.
Fast forward to now. I've been husband-less for 5 months. I'm prepared to go up to 8 months without him. Somehow it's easier because I was emotionally prepared this time, but it's harder because he's my husband, my partner, my best friend. I can't just get in the car and drive to see him, if only for a few hours. He doesn't drive to see me on the weekends, like he did when we dated. His gig just won't end due to budget cuts, like it did for my sister who was on the other side of the world and away from her boyfriend. I am happy she suddenly got to come home, but sad also because I was counting on her and Taylor both returning at the same time. That was the plan.
I hate complaining when there are certainly bigger fish to fry in the world. I'm thankful I'm not sick. I'm thankful I have a little boy who looks like his dad to take care of everyday. It definitely helps the day go by faster. I have come to accept that a lot of my time with Taylor will be spent apart from each other. Life has proven that, thus far, we will be at the mercy of others and other people's plans, which inevitably involve being worlds apart.
So, as I'm a single parent for the time being, I am responsible for our toddler every minute of the day. It's not extraordinarily hard or inconvenient, but routine is everything to me, as I depend on it to get me through the day-to-day.
I have been trying to put Sawyer down early, because the norm for him is bedtime at 11:30 p.m. Granted, he sleeps in til 10:00 am, but it's not realistic to be hyper and playing around when the entire neighborhood is sleeping peacefully in their beds. So last night, I skipped his nap and put him to bed at 8:00 pm! Seems a bit more normal for a child his age, eh. He slept like a rock, and woke up at 6:00 am.
Problem with that is I didn't go to bed til midnight. I was not ready to start my day at 6:00 am today. I'm shameless to admit this, but in my frame of mind, I thought it'd be fine to baby-proof the upstairs, set Sawyer's toys out, turn on cartoons, and fall back asleep on the couch. And that's exactly what I did. I didn't even think about it, whether it was good parenting or not. I just did it.
Thank my lucky stars, Sawyer did just fine. He loves to walk around and drag his toys from one room to the other. He likes to play with his shoes. He likes to play with Hershey. ( I imagine he did all those things). And all the while, I was passed out on the couch. Sleeping, dreaming, squeezing in every minute I could before I had to start my day.
I am soo ashamed I can't even fathom what could have potentially happened if I wasn't awake.
I woke up to him crying, as he was trying to push himself under the couch, but got stuck. I picked him up and laid him next to me. Apparently he fell asleep too. Finally, around 10:00 am, our normal waking up time, we both woke up and he flashed me a huge smile, jabbered something, and started playing with his toys again. Phew. He wasn't mad at me for abandoning him so I could fall into a deep, selfish slumber.
I guess I like Taylor Swift's songs that are about closing and keeping your eyes open. When I'm not blasting Ingrid Michaelson's "Ghost," I'm blasting this song.
The Countdown til I see Taylor is on!! 20 MORE DAYS!!
This has been my comfort song as of late. I play it about 50 times before bed. So beautiful and calming.
And during the day I watch at least two or three episodes of Downton Abbey because it's such a cozy show. Makes me happy and appreciative of my home that I feel safe in. Makes me appreciate my village of a town I live in. And FINALLY, it's snowing. If only I had a footman to start a fire for me...
To even think about sasquatch for more than 10 seconds is so unlike me, that when I watch hours worth of footage of sasquatch sightings, I feel like I have to talk about it.
I can't say I believe in sasquatch, but that's because I'm choosing to be ignorant for my own sake. If I knew there were sasquatches running wild in Scout Mountain, I would never leave my house. So, basically, I will never go camping again.
I have to admit there are three things I absolutely cannot talk or think about, because I am so tender-hearted and I am overcome with emotion everytime I talk about it.
First, is ghosts. Spirits, more like. I know some people believe they've been visited by a deceased love one and I believe them, but I DO NOT want to ever experience something like that. Especially not in the middle of the night and especially not when I'm alone. I've told Taylor numerous times that if he passes before I do, DO NOT visit me because I am a scaredy cat.
Second, is sasquatch. Yes, I am still afraid of the dark and I think if I saw a sasquatch at night either in the hills or casually walking near me, I would shat myself and probably die from a heart attack. Watching the show on Animal Planet about Finding Bigfoot totally gives me the heebie jeebies. They actually spend the night in the mountains, all alone, to wait to be found by a sasquatch. Just them and a sleeping bag and a thermal camera that can sense when a sasquatch is approaching them. Kudos to them and I hope they discover bigfoot and build a bigfoot zoo that I will never visit because I hate zoos.
Third, is peeping toms. Taylor's mom said she had a peeping tom growing up who she would catch occasionally right outside her window. Can you imagine the fear you'd experience knowing there were lurking eyes watching your every movement in the privacy of your room?!! I am fortunate to have such a bully of a dog who growls at anybody who is across the street or growls at the FedEx truck that drives by, so I know for sure that if there were any peeping toms, my dog would hunt them down before they could get within arm's reach of our house.
Can you tell I'm writing this late at night?! The past two nights I've been up with Taylor watching Finding Bigfoot, cowering into his arms and squeezing his hands everytime the thermal camera shows anything moving. I don't know how I ever functioned before a dog and a husband. Overprotective dog and husband, at that.
I do. Like, everynight. I feel bad because I don't follow people who follow me and it has nothing to do liking your pins or not, I just forget to re-follow. I'll work on that.
I have found a lot of inspiration for some upcoming projects. Mostly a kitchen re-do and bathroom re-do. Which are pretty expensive, but the more my mind wanders, the more I see potential in our little house that I absolutely HATED a year ago, but am starting to embrace. So I'm wrapping my mind around the idea of investing, instead of looking for potential homes for sale that we can move into in about a year!! (Definitely plan B.)
Let me explain the transformation. First and foremost, the smell. The smell made me queasy. Even up to the last month of pregnancy, I hated getting whiffs of must coming from the basement. The drab paint color on every wall. The microscopic kitchen. The awkward front room layout. Etc, etc. Then my amazing mother-in-law took over my house and completely re-did my living room and bedroom, making it look like a house from a show from HGTV. Whenever I came home, briefly, from Utah during our 5-month stay, I started to feel more comfortable and felt better about bringing my baby home to our once-disgusting house.
I have been really grateful for one thing in particular, and that's our house's location. It truly is in the heart of Poky. We are close to so much...I'm not sure but I think the old building right behind us just got purchased by a huge retailer...(Target? Old Navy?) And yet, our street is quiet and kid-friendly and our neighbors are great. We will never live anywhere as convenient and close to stores and restaurants unless we move into a condo in a big city. (Definitely plan C.)
I leave our house maybe once or twice a week. And when I'm gone, I'm excited to go home, where I can really relax and find refuge and enjoy the comforts that we have slowly created in the last 8 months. With the influence of Pinterest and watching HGTV ALL DAY LONG, I am seeing so much potential and am actually excited to get going with my 29472873747 ideas. Hopefully I'll document the progress as I go.
