PART 1: Things that go bump in the night...

When I went to sleep this past February 12, I can honestly say that all was right with the world. Well, my world anyways. I had no way of knowing that in a few short hours that would all change.

Stephen had gone by AAA that afternoon to book us the cruise, (you may have seen the posts a few weeks ago on Facebook - trip of a lifetime!); and it felt like it would be forever until we dropped off the kiddos with my parents and had an adventure with just the two of us. But we were excited. It was Valentine's weekend, and our life was full of good things.

It was a fairly normal evening. We put the kiddos down, watched some Netflix, and the hubby stayed up to work for a couple of hours after I got tired and decided to go to bed. I would be co-hosting a baby shower for a good friend the next day, and fell asleep excited about the plans that would come together in the morning. I woke only for a moment when I heard Stephen tiptoe and climb into bed.

Having been at the tail-end of a cold, I decided to forgo my nightly dose of Nyquil. In my mind, I was weary of becoming dependent of the awesome liquid to fall asleep. Looking back, I'd say God knew I'd need to not be groggy...

Around 12:30am, I woke up. My brain had registered a sound that was unfamiliar to that time of night, and I was immediately alert. If you've ever been laying in bed in the middle of the night and hear that kind of sound, then you know what I'm talking about. I was still for several moments as I went through the typical mental checklist:
         
            Stephen is in bed.
            The boys are asleep in their rooms.
            House settling?  No, not the right creaking noise.
            Cats? Could be. I hope so.... No, it sounds like it's outside the house.
       Wait, outside the house? Along the wall? There is nothing along the wall of our house...
        Is it windy? Maybe the wind has knocked something?!

I got out of bed and creeped over to the blinds to sneak a peak outside. The trees were tell-tale still. NOT wind.

By this time, as my usual checklist was not confirming the origin of the scraping (I'd determined that it sounded like scraping, downstairs, and along the wall of the house), I did the next thing that I would do to investigate. I slowly walked across the room, opened the door, and went a few steps towards the stairs where the hall light switches were located. In my middle-of-the-night logic, I had decided that if there was someone trying to get in the house, if I turned up the lights all the way that would alert them that someone was home, and awake, and scare them away.

Of course, I didn't really think there was someone. I mean, for almost 7 years I'd been freaking myself out on occasion when the cats had knocked something over and I'd investigated with my heart pounding in my chest. I am the one who always screams at the stupid girls in horror films who just HAVE to go investigate those noises. Right? They get what they deserve...

And, yet, here I was knowing in my soul that there was no way I was going to get back to sleep until I had confirmed for the umpteenth time that the noise had been some silly benign reason behind it.

But I couldn't confirm it. So I had the decision to make - wake the hubby, or not? If I wake him and it is nothing (which of course it is, right?), then I feel stupid and he might get grumpy. I stood in the open doorway of our room and considered my options for a moment; then decided to go ahead and wake him up. So I walked over to his side of the bed, leaned over, and gently placed my hand on his shoulder...

Stephen jumped a freakin' country mile.

Apparently, he'd been having an ill-timed nightmare.

This was not a happy hubby, poor guy. I figured I'd better give purpose to the shock to his system, and quickly whispered, "There are noises!" 

He groaned and put his head back down. I started to get frustrated, thinking he wasn't taking me seriously. Apparently, as he told me later, he was trying to be still and listen. Of course, at this point, there were no noises. Of course. Silly wife, over-reacting again and scaring the crap out of him in the middle of the night. But I was persistent. I had heard noises, and I was sure of it!

He stumbled out of bed, and by this time we were both irritable with each other. We started arguing as we walked to the stairs and he headed down to investigate. I know now that that arguing was our saving grace - mostly because it could be heard downstairs.

What happened next will forever be clearly etched in my memory.

Our petty arguing was abruptly interrupted by the sound of the garage door.

The garage door.

You know, the one that is closed. Well, supposed to be closed. The only two people who had an opener were standing on the stairs and in the loft. (The only other way it could be opened was by the button by the door to the house, which is the only door to the garage. No outside access. My brain did not register this very important fact.)

Stephen froze mid-step. We both stopped talking. I will never forget the surprised look of terror in his wide eyes - which was surely mirrored in my own. Time seemed to stop, except for the continued sound of the garage door rolling the rest of the way up. We heard the sound of squealing tires, and Stephen sprinted back upstairs to the loft and over to look out the window.

"Someone just stole our van."

It was a statement. He was almost calm as he said it, but I couldn't miss the edge of fear in his voice. When we talked about it later, we'd both had the thought "Oh well, the van is gone." At that time the full magnitude of what was happening was not processing for us. I couldn't tell you what I was thinking as I ran downstairs.

That's right, downstairs. All I could focus on at that point was that the garage was open and I had to make sure it got closed or something. I slowly edged through the kitchen and looked around the wall to see that the door to the garage was cracked. I was petrified at the thought of someone being on the other side of that door; so I reached my arm around, pushed it shut, and quickly locked it - thinking that I was locking out whoever might still be out there and keeping us safe.

In retrospect, this was all very stupid of me.

It was moments after this that Stephen told me that they had come through the office. As in the office right behind me when I was locking the door. (As in, for all I knew I could have just locked a bad guy IN the house! Ugh.) I know now that my brain, in obvious panic mode, hadn't even considered the possibility that someone was actually IN the house. The noises that had woken me up were, in fact, the sound of the office window (below our room) being forced open. Stephen, indeed, hadn't heard any noise because at that point they were already in the house.

He told me that his phone and car keys, which had been on his desk, were both gone. Since I keep my phone on the table next to my bed, I figured I should go up and get it. So I went back to our room, grabbed it, and then stood there.

     Call 911? Well, do I need to? I mean, our van is gone sure, but is this really an emergency? I don't      think anyone is in the house anymore...

Believe it or not, I seriously stood there in complete indecision about calling 911. Stephen made his way back upstairs, so I asked him if I should. Of course he told me too. I don't think I was in any mental condition to comprehend what was happening... yet.

Surreal. That's what it's like to actually dial 911. I typed the numbers on my phone, put it to my ear, and listened to the rings. An operator answered.

I lost it.

It was as if the silky cloud of denial that had kept me functioning thus far was blasted away, and the full weight of the situation came crashing down on my consciousness. Suddenly, I could barely breathe. Couldn't speak....

"Someone... was in... our... house!"

I got out the information that I knew she needed to know immediately. As trained, she stepped in to action - asking me questions to quickly assess the situation and mobilize help. The more I talked, the easier it became; and I started to pull myself together. I went to the closet to get my bat.

Okay, so I can practically hear some of you now - - - a bat? There was a freakin' bat in your bedroom this whole time?!
      Yes, it's the bat that I kept in my classroom in case there was ever an intruder on campus.
       I'd moved it to our room in case there was ever an intruder in our home.
      This is the kind of thinking that goes through my head on a regular basis.
      I'm pretty much prepared for all kinds of unthinkable scenarios.
      You know, except when they actually happen.
Stephen could have had a bat in his hands the whole time he was walking downstairs. I could have bravely brandished it when I assessed the garage door situation. We could have actually had a way to defend ourselves if we'd come face to face with some jack-arse who had invaded our home.

I think it just goes to show you that even though I may be "convinced" that some random late-night noise is a burglar, or worse, in my house, I don't actually think there really is one. But I can tell you now - we won't make that mistake again!

Anyhow, so I get Stephen the bat, and grab myself a thick dowel. (Yes, I also have another club-like item just in case. I know, I know...) I'm on the phone with the 911 operator, standing at our bedroom door, with a pounding heart. Part of me wants to run into the bedroom, slam the door, and lock it until help arrives. But I'm a mama.

My babies are sleeping soundly in there rooms along the hall.

And so I stand there, at the top of the stairs, phone in one hand and club in another.

Yes, we could have easily gone and grabbed them from their beds, waking them up in the process, and all huddled together in our room; but as far as we knew the intruders had fled in the van. Without speaking we had some how both decided to keep them from feeling scared and shelter their little hearts and minds as much as possible. I could argue both possibilities and would never judge against either. (If we had considered danger imminent, we'd have grabbed them in a heart beat.)

I didn't know at the time that there had been a string of North County armed home invasions where the families had been tied up at gunpoint. However, the operator took the situation very seriously indeed and sent 4 squad cars, a dog, and a helicopter. Stephen met the first two deputies at the door, ("Sir, can you put down the bat?") and was ushered outside as they entered and began sweeping the house.

I remained at my "post" upstairs, and met them there. They asked me permission before quietly separating to each take one of the boys' rooms. The image of them going in, and the care they took in not disturbing my babies is forever emblazoned on my heart. Upon coming out of Zachy's room, one of them, (I can only guess that he has the heart of a Daddy) quietly told me in a reassuring voice, "He's sleeping soundly." That still brings tears to my eyes.

The rest of the night, morning?, is a bit of a blur. There were more deputies to arrive, standing in the kitchen going over details, a call coming on the radio that our van had been spotted, and all the deputies leaving to give chase. Stephen and I found ourselves alone, again, in the house. We picked up our "weapons" once more upon this realization and nervously paced downstairs. I called my parents, who were up in Big Bear and they insisted on driving down. A family friend came to sit with us so we weren't alone any more.

And then the best news - they had chased the van, and caught two of the guys! Our very souls were flooded with relief, knowing that this would be invaluable information to what was sure to be a challenging mental recovery. (The third guy was caught a couple of days later.) Note to all: it's good to have a distinguishing sticker on your car! It was a lot easier to know they had found the right white van with "Mama Life" on the back window. (Not the kind of car you'd expect three young men to be hanging out in, right?!)

Surreal - deputies outside the house.

Deputies returned, statements were made, the van was returned (yes!), lists of missing items were given (punks had cut out the car seats and ditched our strollers, which were subsequently stolen), my parents arrived, and then detectives came by. The babies woke up to find Grandma and Grandpa were over! They were blissfully unaware of the traumatic night; something I am truly grateful for. The locksmith we found was a saint of a man who let Nathan "help" change the locks.

I gathered my exhausted wits, and was able to make it to the baby shower.

While I was gone, my parents took Nathan with them back up to the cabin and Stephen worked to get the house back to "normal". After a lot of back-and-forth we decided to stay in our home that night. (My math brain told me that, statistically, since our house had just been broken in to we should be good to go for a few years or so. Plus, they had caught two of the guys and the third was on the run so very little chance he'd dare show up again.)

Nathan was a little confused, but happy to see Papa & Grandma!

One of the detectives assigned to the case - checking out point of entry

I'll not sugar coat it - we were scared. It didn't matter in a way that it was "just some young punks", and they'd targeted us for the van. The absolute TERROR of not knowing who was in our home when we realized what was happening had residual effects on our consciousness that would have repercussions for some time. But we were also determined that we would beat the mental games and move on. So we slept in the house that night.

Exhausted Mama

But I set up a pack in play in our bathroom and kept Zach in the locked room with us.

And the next night I forced myself to let him sleep back in his own room; but we dumped out all of the kid blocks in the hallway along with a few other toys. You know, to deter someone who might break in. (Have you ever stepped on one of those things?!)

Nathan came home a couple of days later. Eventually, we stopped littering the hallway with toys; though we kept the lights on nice and bright downstairs. Since we missed Valentine's day in all of the craziness of that weekend, I setup a nice V-day dinner and cake for all my boys later that week. Life tried to return to normal...

Except that it wasn't.

Knife that they must have used to cut out the car seats. Found it a couple of days later when I was cleaning up the van. (Along with a stash of marijuana...) Scared me to think it was on them when they were in our home!

And that was the beginning of the latest turning point in my life. I'd say that this night had altered my course, but I can see clearly now that Someone had allowed this to all happen for a reason.

I'd love to share more, but that's enough typing for now. The hubby is wrangling the boys, and I need to finish getting ready for our anniversary date. Nine whole years today! What an adventure it has been... <3

The End of an Era...

Well, it's time for a chapter to close and a new one to begin. Stephen and I will be listing our home hopefully within the next couple of weeks. (Packing and cleaning and staging goes a bit slower somehow when there's a 2 1/2 year old wanting to "help" and an 11-month old crawling after you whining to be picked up all the time.)

It's still pretty surreal to see that sign out front. We only just made the decision less than a week ago, and a sudden one at that. Well, not so sudden though if you understand that we had considered doing this almost a year ago, and would probably have considered it again in the future.

Stephen's commute to McClellan-Palomar Airport in Carlsbad doesn't seem like it would be bad distance-wise; however the traffic on San Marcos Blvd can be miserable in the mornings and early evenings. (Fellow San Marcosians, can I get a witness?!) Besides that, he has always for some reason talked about living in Carlsbad someday. (I had always told him though that I didn't want to live closer to the coast because my hair would get frizzy!)

I have been pretty dead-set against moving. I mean, come on - if you have been to my house you'd understand. Almost 2600 square feet of the perfect kind of family and entertaining home I'd always imagined being in; and we got it for our very first home together almost 7 years ago.

Seven years... and so many memories. I have loved hosting family Christmases, engagement and bachelorette parties, baby showers, and various get-togethers. More recently, due to my new stay-at-home-mom status, I have been hosting playgroups! Ha - as in, children. Yes, loads of little ones and babies playing with my boys and all of the toys we've collected over the past couple of years. (No high schoolers in sight! Now that has been an adjustment.) ;0)

The darn HOA who brought some great stories by policies that towed away my friends cars. Twice.
(Okay, that maybe we won't miss so much.) I will always remember my friend waking us all up in the middle of the night yelling "Someone is stealing my car!", and the panic that ensued as we stumbled outside to figure out what was going on.

This is the home where we walked the difficult journey of infertility; and where we brought home both of our little miracles. I poured my creativity, time, and heart into decorating two bedrooms for the boys who have brought us so much joy. My heart hurt at the thought of repainting - but was blessed by our agent walking into Nathan's room and telling me not to worry, and that someone was going to walk in, see the two-toned walls with the super cute sports-playing animals accents and say "This is my little boy's room!".

While it may be considered a nuisance to some, I have LOVED living on the hill overlooking a middle school's athletic field. We've enjoyed years of soccer and rugby games. I don't know - maybe it's due to my chosen profession as a teacher or something; but it's been great hearing the sound of the students out at PE. The track unit is always my favorite - especially when I get to watch them attempt the hurdles for the first time! Oh, or the "pings" of batons hitting the asphalt when they were learning how to pass it for a relay. Hehehehehehe... When we bought this home I'd always imagined sending the boys down to shoot hoops while I was in the kitchen making dinner.

Oy - and the LOCATION! Right smack dab in the middle of the two best exits of San Marcos! All the Chick-fil-a, In-in-out, Hobby Lobby, Marshalls, Spouts, Nordies Rack, and more that you could want!

Did I mention that you can see Frys from our bed upstairs? (LOL - okay, seems random but it's the memory that sticks in my mind from our first night here. Even now when I turn my head I can clearly see the red glow and lit building and get all nostaglic-like.)

I am grateful that we will be able to have some family stay with us once more in this home; and we are still planning to have a family first birthday for Zachy. (I realized tonight that I'd been able to have the Hoadley Christmas party here this last December as well!) So we'll have a great send-off and closure.

We love this house. But I have come to a place of peace about leaving it. (Not that I don't have a panic moment every now and then.) It was NOT a decision that came easily. Instead, it took a lot of heart-searching, and circumstances beyond my control. Some of the questions and fears that I've had have been reasoned out, but there's still plenty that I'll just have to wait and see what God has in store. Wherever we end up, what's important is that we are all together. Besides, creating a great home, in whatever house we reside, is my full-time focus now. Now it's time to be stretched and take a step of faith!

Oh, and if you have any boxes....

"Mommys da boss" - a blog from the daddy

So I guess it is time for me to chime in.  Jen has wanted me to contribute
to the blog for a long time and I told her I wouldn't until I thought I had
something to say.  Not sure where I will go with this and I'm always long
winded so you are warned! :)


To start, a shout out to my parents.  You are amazing.  9 kids.  Wow.
Amazing.  5 kids 5 and under to start, in a foreign country (they were
missionaries to Japan).  I am bone tired all the time and I have but two
kids under two.  The thought of 5 under 5 blows my mind.  I mean, I know I
was probably the easiest baby in the world (5th child), but still....


And props to my sister Lisa.  4 kids 6 and under last year.  Amazing.  I'd
already think you guys were the parents of the year and then you get the
difficult medical news you are dealing with.  I am awestruck at how you keep
any semblance of sanity, even if you don't think you do.


Okay...so where to go with this blog.  I think maybe a discussion of what I
am learning as a very involved parent who has to try to learn to step back a
bit and let mama be mama.  I've been working on this for some time, and let
me tell you, as a control freak, it is not easy.  Seriously.


I think perhaps if we had started out "normally," maybe it would be easier.
But...we did not.  In the first two months of child rearing (Nathan, turning
2 on June 27th) we were in the hospital 4 times.  First Nathan gave us the
scare of our lives when an infection around his eye at 8 days old led us to
5.5 days at Children's Hospital where a spinal tap, lots of drugs and what
seemed like a million doctors later (teaching hospital) it turned out to be
just a staph infection that was easily treated.  Phew!....


Then Jen decided to have an emergency appendectomy.  She had a tube coming
out of her belly for 2 weeks after to drain the fluid from her peritoneum.
Fun stuff.


The tube hadn't even been removed and we were back at the hospital for
"mastitis on crack" I called it.  And not so long after that it happened
again and we were back at the hospital.


All in all I think we counted 22 days overnight in hospitals (~26 days).  I
spent every one of those with Jen in the hospital (thank goodness for family
helping with Nathan's care!).  During the days I would balance my time
between Jen in the hospital and taking stints with Nathan.  When we were at
home, Jen was still recovering so I had day and night duties.  All while
working from home (thank goodness for a light renewals list in the
summertime - must have been a God thing) and working on sleep training the
munchkin.


It was a long 2 months and yet I felt insanely bonded to my son in a way
that really surprised me.  For months before Nathan was born, guy friends
had been telling me to not be surprised if I didn't like being a dad at
first and if I didn't any bond - I t would come later when they started
interacting more and just get thru it.


So the bond surprised me.  And given the "Mister Mom" start to child rearing
and my control freak personality, well let's just say it wasn't so easy to
step back.  In some respects I don't know if I ever did.  In other respects
I know I made a conscience effort in some areas, whether it took or not.


I'm married to an amazing woman and an amazing mother.  Granted our life has
not always looked the way we thought it would - infertility was definitely
not something we ever contemplated.  Heck, I came from a family with NINE
KIDS so I definitely didn't think it would be hard!


A buttload of money (IVF - see all of Jen's blogs) and 2 BOYS later, even
knowing the heartache of the journey, I would do it all over again.    And
again.  And again.  The boys are that awesome.


I capitalized boys because everyone who has ever known me knows I've always
dreamed of having a little girl.  I have this notion of borrowing a shotgun
from someone and be "cleaning it" when my daughter's first boyfriend comes
over to meet us.  You know - the "fear of God" and all that, but be
otherwise super nice.  Haha, well not sure if that will ever happen now,
only time will tell, but I can say that my boys are amazing and I really
can't imagine life without them.


Nathan:  what an awesome little guy!  The sheer potential of this kid is
astounding to me.  Seriously, he is freaking brilliant (and also has his
"dumb" moments lol - like when he literally ran full speed into Zach's pack
n play a few days ago - funny and sad all at the same time).  I guess I
don't really know what's normal for his age and I think I don't want to know
as I would rather just keep thinking of him as brilliant lol.  Every time we
watch "Super Why" together he continually surprises me with his grasp of
letters and numbers.  His language skills, which were lagging a bit, seem to
be coming along now faster and faster as he learns to sound out words.  He
literally repeats everything mommy and daddy says all day long so I guess he
is getting lots of practice (and we are learning we sure better be careful
what we say!).  My favorite example was a few weeks ago when I said "So
sexy!" for something (can't remember what) and Nathan repeated it in a way
that had Jen and I in stiches for quite awhile.  Good times....


And yet, as great as all that is, his joyous spirit is what is so endearing
about him.  No matter what gets him down, he doesn't stay unhappy long and
there is a smile on his face again.  He wakes up every day and every nap
time with a smile on his face and itching to get out into the world again
(literally, he LOVES THE OUTSIDE which is often at the heart of many a
meltdown if he is being denied going outside for whatever reason).  And the
way he cares for Zach is so wonderful to see.  Frankly it surprised us
though I don't know why as he was always trying to make other kids smile who
were crying or sad (or even adults!) even months ago. We thought he wouldn't
be all that interested in Zach for awhile but he's loved him from day one.
If Zach starts crying we hear "Zachy crying" in a sad little voice and he
goes over to wherever Zach I and wants to help.  It is so, so sweet to see.


In the last 3 months we have really seen an independent streak come out in
Nathan.  He seems kind of OCD (both parents) and dogmatic (daddy) at times
and has trouble expressing frustration (hits stuff, including mommy and
daddy sometimes).  So Jen and I have really had to think thru how we channel
our frustration in those moments (maybe I'll get to that later in this blog?
Definitely an entire blog worth of discussion on this subject) and what
methods of parenting we use and try to develop consistencies etc.  Even as I
write this I think I know where we are currently on this but not exactly
positive - it's definitely been one thread of our journey we are on all on
its own.


So I (we?) are fiercely aware that Nathan has insane potential and I very
much don't want to screw that up :)  He is so gifted and already learning to
love Jesus (see the video of singing "Jesus loves me" to his monkey), I want
so much to channel him in the right direction for this precious gift God has
loaned to us while we are on this earth.


Zach:  it has been so very fun to watch his personality develop.  At 9 weeks
of age he is a child with a sweet spirit and a developing ready smile for
those who are willing to give him some attention.  I think I called it right
on this kid before he was born that he would give Nathan a run for his money
in terms of personality, size, etc.  9 weeks is too early to know anything
long term, but he definitely seems to be a go getter as he has plowed thru
the various steps to this point.  Honestly, I don't really feel like we have
pushed him past anything he wasn't ready for (just "reading the tea leaves")
and yet we find him where he is today - 4 days into "arms out" swaddle and
going really well.  I can't remember exactly but I am pretty sure we didn't
attempt that with Nathan until ~4 months or so.


It's not lost on me that he is baby number 2 and significantly benefiting
from parents who have done this once before and also are both around (as
opposed to being in and out of hospitals).  I can't wait to see how this kid
is going to turn out.  Well...actually I CAN wait in that I know that these
next few months are "the good months" where Zach will be more and more
interactive but not yet mobile :)  So I guess right now in the midst of life
that we often call crazy (but I feel guilty saying that knowing what others
are going thru right now with parenting in much crazier situations), I want
to be sure to enjoy the journey (I'll come back to this).


Side note triggered by Zach thoughts, I've actually been thinking some
lately about the Nature vs. Nurture debates that have been raging for
centuries and I must admit that being a parent makes me have a new
appreciation for those arguments.  I don't think I have any conclusions
other than to say that I think there is something to be said for
consistency.


So this blog thing kind of cracks me up.  In a writing class I would have
failed this assignment as I've digressed and digressed.  But with blogging
it's all okay!  Haha.  For those of you who have actually read this far -
props!  I got more to say lol


So coming back to what has been on my mind a lot of late is the topic of
learning to give up control.  I've never really been that great at it.  As a
Christian I am to give up control to the One who lives inside of me.  This
is a very difficult thing to do and something I will likely be working at my
whole life in various forms.


Of late it has been mostly about learning how to "let mommy be mommy."  We
officially made the decision at Christmas time last year to have Jen stop
working for an undetermined (forever I'm sure she would like to say :) )
period of time so that she can focus on what her heart was calling her to
focus on, being a mama to our growing family.  With the cost of childcare
and her working 60% of a full-time teacher's salary as it was, you might
think it would not be much of a hit.  Unfortunately we are also on her
health benefits which are beyond amazing (without the health insurance she
has the hospital stays 2 years ago would have bankrupted us).  I don't think
I ever had enough appreciation for those benefits until I started
researching health care.  Yikes!  So in a few months we'll have to start
buying medical coverage again etc. and at the end of June we officially lose
Jen's paycheck each month.


God will provide.  I (we as in it was a joint decision, but I as respects
this sentence) did not enter into the decision lightly but felt a very clear
conviction that it was the right decision to make at the time even if the
numbers didn't necessarily match up completely.  Honestly in the world of
commission income, it can be difficult to budget anyway.  I am an aviation
insurance broker - it's awesome to go to work every day LOVING what you do
for a living and I am one of those lucky people who get to say that!  I feel
very blessed in that regard.


Innately a part of every control freak (or at least THIS control freak) is
this notion that "I know best" and "my way is the best way" and "my way is
the ONLY way", etc.  These notions rear their ugly heads all too often.  I
am quite amazed Jen puts up with me sometimes when these tendencies come
out.  She's probably reading this saying "I don't know either!"  haha.
Well...she does somehow...


I think there may be no more catalyst (and frustrating?) opportunities for
facing our tendencies, character flaws, issues, or whatever else you want to
call them, then with parenting.  Children will expose your every flaw and
make you face your issues whether you are ready for it or not.  Children
have no filter and will say the honest truth, every time.  And Nathan is
getting old enough now where that will happen more and more.


Parenting is the MOST rewarding thing I have ever done.  Even in the most
selfish, angering, frustrating, etc. there is still a part of me somewhere
that FEELS that fiercely and wills me thru those moments.


Digressing again...Grrr....back to giving up control.


When Nathan is having a melt down moment one of the ways that I have been
diffusing that with him for months is to ask "who da boss?"  And Nathan
answers "mommys da boss."  He used to also say after "daddys da boss" to
which I would add, "Nathan's NOT da boss." And generally the meltdown moment
where something had to be his way was diffused.


Lately though he has been adding instead "daddy's not da boss."  I think
perhaps he may just be trying to remember what I was saying before and keep
it going.  I started to correct him recently and then thought that maybe I
should just let him say that and it would be a reminder to me that I needed
to continue to work on being open minded and a partner.


We were blessed in having months to know that Jen was going to stop working
before it actually happened (although in our case with Jen's health scare at
32 weeks pregnant it happened sooner than we thought with her having to be
on modified best rest at home for the last 9 weeks of pregnancy).  With
that, I've had time to try to wrap my brain around my existence looking more
like a "normal" one income family where one parent went to work and the
other was with the kids at home.


Honestly that has been hard to imagine.  I worked from home until a job
change in August of 2014 so for the first 15 months of Nathan's life I was
around 24/7 for the most part and Jen was really the one leaving to go to
work (3 days a week).  Then in August we put him in daycare (an epic journey
in itself that we were not necessarily ready for - Nathan spent November to
March being sick all but 10 days and we finally had to pull him out of
daycare a week before Zach came) and I got a glimpse of it but Jen was still
going to work.


So I have yet to see what it will really be like - glimpses here and there
as Jen finishes her last week of work this week and finally recovered from
her C-Section.  I think it will be WAY easier to go to the office everyday
then try to work from home (Nathan has a very hard time understanding why
daddy is in his office) and there are parts of it that I really like.  I
love the idea of providing for my family and finally having the opportunity
to put 100% energy into that and seeing where it goes.  I work at the
coolest place - an office at an airport!  It's a lot of fun to go to work
every day and, again, I feel very, very blessed.


I don't love the idea of missing all the little every day moments.  There
are so many of them each and every day.  I've been there for so many over
the last 2 years, made possible by being "Mister Mom" for much of that time.
But...it's time to officially pass the torch and, embrace as Nathan puts it
"mommys da boss."


That doesn't mean I am ducking out.  Ha, as if I could.  No, it will be a
DAILY battle for me to shut my mouth and listen more - you know, the whole 2
ears, 1 mouth for a reason concept.  I pray for the guidance to know when I
am being helpful and when I need to shut my mouth.  Truth be told we have
been preparing for this for a long time and already practicing it in various
areas with success (communication with care takers of our children and
empowering Jen to make decisions on the fly without my input).  So...we CAN
do this.  We WILL do this.  And I will learn my "new" role too and where I
fit into the big picture of parenting and what that looks like.


And I guess the thought I'd like to end this blog with for now is "learning
to enjoy the journey."  This has been on my mind for many months and
something I have been trying very hard to do.  It has really helped me in
the harder moments, and the wonderful ones too.  It has helped me try to
find the upside in various situations - not always successfully, but
nevertheless helpful.  Zach may be the last go around on the kid front
(though we are super open to adopting someday or who knows what miracles
might happen naturally) and I want to enjoy each and every stage to the
extent possible.


So there you go, a blog from the daddy for whatever it is worth :)
Blessings to you all and thank you for the prayers.

To The Poor Mom in the Parking Lot...

To the poor mom in the parking lot of the mall restaurant, who brought me face to face with one of our "worst fears":

I believe that God left that solitary parking space just for me, so that our paths would cross. I was just on the verge of some serious irritation, nearing the end of the second seemingly endless row and wondering how far away I'd have to park. My heart then skipped a beat as I glanced and saw that gloriously empty spot!

My fellow teacher friend, "T", and I had wrapped up the first day of final exams at our high school. We'd planned this lunch in advance, and were suffering from low blood sugar after staying around way later than we had wanted to trying to scan student answer sheets. (Well, it would have been sooner if we hadn't been so eager to get ready for summer that we had accidently already packed away the scanner in a secure, taped up box.)

Again, I believe that Someone had a different timetable than us; and for a good reason.

When I parked and saw you standing in front of the car next to me, balancing a baby boy on your hip while you held a phone to your ear, I immediately felt drawn to speak to you. Perhaps it was my Momdar zoning in on a fellow mama in distress? I was incredibly awkward and didn't know what to say, but I heard your "I guess we'll just have to wait for Daddy," with a measure of exasperation in your tone. Figuring it was my "in" I said lamely "Man, I hate it when Daddy is not around" (or late, or something like that).

It was like you just needed to tell someone what was going on, and I guess I seemed safe and I was there. You quickly told me that actually your little girl was in your car, firmly buckled in her car seat, with your keys in the ignition and the doors locked! (I don't remember the logistics of how it happened - but honestly those details aren't important.) I realized that the car you were standing in front of, next to mine, wasn't even yours. (Turns out you were torn between trying to help your daughter and keeping your baby out of the sun.) Your car was a few down the row - a dark minivan.

The car was on, and the air conditioner was running.

The sole fact that the car would remain nice and cool for the duration of this ordeal had kept you from calling 911. I don't know how long it had been since you had the shocking realization of what had happened, but I daresay that no matter how panicked and stressed you felt you handled yourself with more grace than I probably would have.

As I stood by your van, every fiber of my being wanted to be your hero.

I could see your little girl,crying in her sweet ballet outfit, (which you informed me was where you were currently supposed to be), and all I wanted in the world was to get the doors opened. If the car had been off, and heat was a danger, I would have grabbed the misplaced Corolla rim from the trunk of my car and used it as leverage to force open that darn back window that was "safely" propped a couple inches wide. Or, I would have held your baby for you as you used your sheer superhuman mom power to do it yourself. (Lord knows we'd move heaven and earth if our kid was in danger!)

You should know that my defense mechanism is humor - which is why I tried to help you laugh. I promised you that some day this was going to be an awesome story at your daughter's wedding or high school graduation. T walked up and we started talking to you about all the stupid stuff our kids have survived... The kinds of things you are horrified about; like driving to the grocery store and realizing as you go to lift the infant car seat out that you never buckled the straps. (The things that we breathe a prayer of gratefulness for living through, and learn valuable lessons in return.)

Isn't it ironic that you were stuck because of trying to keep your children safe?

I tried to talk your daughter through unbuckling her seat - but her two little thumbs were to weak to push the red button.
   "Well, there's a reason why we DON'T teach our kids how to get out of there carseats!", I admitted knowingly to you.
(Any mom who has glanced in the rear view mirror in time to see there child's butt disappearing over or under the seat is nodding. Yep.)

I asked if she could reach the door, where the lock was, but her arms were appropriately too short.
   "That's why we put her in the middle seat - it's safer," you stated with a shake of your head.

You. Are. A. Good. Mom.

I hope that's what I said to you, because it's what I wanted to convey. This situation could happen to any of us - and to many of us it has. T even told how she just encountered the SAME situation in a grocery store parking lot over the weekend. It probably didn't make you feel better right then, but we wanted you to not beat yourself up.

As awful as the situation seemed, and it was, your daughter was upset but she was SAFE. And your baby boy, who you were grateful wasn't trapped in there as well, was happy and smiling at us. And if they hadn't been safe - none of us would have been standing around helplessly, wracking our brains for a solution. All three of us would be attacking that minivan mercilessly. (As solid as those things are, I can promise that they are no match for a group of mamas banded together for the sole purpose of rescuing a child.)

I hope that your husband didn't give you too much grief. I saw the relief flood over your face when he called you back, and had been able to leave work and bring his keys. It was only when you said that he was just a few minutes away and insisted, more than once, that we go on and enjoy our lunch that I reluctantly walked away from you.

I really wished that I could have done more. I wish that I had stayed with you even for the sole purpose that you wouldn't have to stand there alone for any amount of time. (However I do acknowledge that perhaps us not being there would help it not seem like such a spectacle when your hubby did arrive for the rescue. And I am sure that your family bonded in the moment of your daughter's freedom.)

You know, we women can't always fix each others' problems and griefs. But what an encouragement it is to know that we can help bear each other's burdens and walk alongside each other in this crazy thing called life! I truly hope that you will remember that someone cared when you faced this "worst fear" - - - T and that mama with the purple hair.

I have a fun image in my head of me, and you, and T, and the stressed-to-the-max woman seated a few tables over from us during lunch.  (She was desperately trying everything she could to quiet down a ticked-off baby who wanted nothing to do with a pacifier and didn't comprehend the concept of "the bottle is on it's way.) I think we'd have a jolly time sitting in a Cheesecake Factory booth ordering every dessert on the menu, and jokingly commiserating over our mommyhood stories. (And of course there'd be endless babysitting so that we could eat a whole piece of cheesecake without being interrupted because a little someone "needed to poop".)

We really are all in this together. <3


PS -  I am really annoyed about "open letters". Apparently I have now penned one.
     .... consider me humbled.

I'm totally okay, I promise! I think...

Over the past couple months peeps have approached me, or asked me in the midst of conversation, about how I feel about leaving the classroom for full-time mommyhood.

"Do you miss it?" They want to know... And I would swiftly come back with "Nope!". The past couple months have found me completely grateful to be able to be home with Nathan and Zach. I've been feeling totally at peace with not dealing with the stress and drama of the job. Add to it the fact that only two or three students even came up to me and said "thank you" or expressed sadness that I was leaving (and unexpectedly sooner than planned); so I'd say there wasn't a lot of love lost in that department either. And, honestly, that's kind of sad. After all, I'd devoted a good chunk of my life to that job and EHS for eight years along with a large portion of my heart and soul.

It is time for me to move on, and this has been the right decision.

Still...

My leaving for maternity leave early to go on modified bedrest was like an unexpected not-so-great breakup. I had planned to have another four or five weeks to come to terms with the end of the "relationship" and get my affairs in order. The way I ended it, with only a one-day notice, left me without any good closure. Eight years (and a half if you count student teaching, which I do!) is no small amount of time to spend investing your time, energy, blood, sweat, and (a TON) of tears...

Two days ago I was sitting in the drive-thru at Chick-fil-a scrolling Facebook and came across an awesome post from a fellow teacher friend of mine whose senior students had been caught trying to pull a spectacular prank on her. My first reaction was to laugh, of course - 'cause it was quite awesome indeed. But then a felt a twinge of bitterness creep over my mood.

Bitterness?

 It kind of surprised me, and had nothing to do with my friend and her students. In fact, I absolutely LOVE how many freakishly AMAZING teachers I know who make the kind of impact that inspires goofy uperclassmen to do silly things. (Like the senior calculus class who stole the class mascot, Stan the Can, and shipped him all over the country to their different schools. They put together a scrapbook of his adventures and presented it to their teacher at the end of the first semester at a special dinner they held in her honor. That is pretty much the bomb.) Those are the kind of stories that the people in this country need to hear.

As I probed my heart, I realized that I was envious of this post. Teaching freshmen for the entirety of my tenure doesn't allow for a lot of love around graduation time. The students who claimed to love me and my class usually forgot who I was when I strolled into their junior year math class to harass their current teacher. I'm not showered with gifts at Christmas, or thank yous during Teacher Appreciation week. Freshmen can barely see past the end of their nose, let alone into a future where they realize with monumentuous appreciation how learning to think algebraically is actually important. (It's not all about memorizing formulas people! LOL)

The Facebook post was a catalyst to all sorts of lies that began to creep into my mind...

Did it really matter that I was leaving?
Did I do enough while I was there? Did I really make a big enough impact?

Yes, I call them out as lies because that's what they are. I don't need to seek validation because I have a drawer full of letters that prove otherwise. For seven years I required one last assignment of my students: to write a letter to the next year's freshmen about what they need to know for high school, Algebra, and Mrs. Winters' class. Every year I am pleasantly surprised to tears to read letters from students who indirectly or directly describe the positive influence that my teaching has had on them.

Wait - every year I was surprised. Whoa.

Someone recently asked me what I did for a living. "I'm a high school math teacher. Well, I guess I was I high school math teacher," I stumbled. "I mean, technically I'm still on paid status but I've been out..." (I think they lost interest before I figured out what I was saying.)

Oh. My. Gosh.  Who am I?

I know I'm the newly-minted SAHM  (cool lingo acronym for "Stay at Home Mom") with the purple hair, right? If that move didn't cry out that I'm breaking free and trying new things then I don't know what would... Hehehehehehehe...

(I still totally LOVE my new hair by the way.)

I've been trying new things on the menus at restaurants too! Which wouldn't seem like a big deal but I think I literally ordered the same exact meal at Rubios for almost a decade. (Two taco combo plate with one regular fish taco and one chicken in case you were curious.) And don't even get me started on my Pinterest projects - you've already seen my "busy box" post I am sure.

I was driving home one day and a cool lesson idea popped into my head and I immediately thought, "Ooooh, I've got to try that!". Then I realized that, no, I couldn't try that because I am not going to be teaching anymore. And then my electrician brother sent me a text a few days ago about how excited he was because he figured out an equation that he could program into his calculator for his business; and I was on the verge of devastation that future freshmen Algebra students wouldn't get the fabulous opportunity to see that y = mx+b IS applicable to real life!  (Of course they probably wouldn't have anyway since all our new curriculum has been chosen for us... Oops, that was snarky of me!)

My dear friend reminded me today that I will now get to teach my own kids. I looked at her in exasperation, "But I'm a high school Algebra teacher! I think that's a little over Nathan's head!" (If some how you are reading this and don't know me, he will be two next month.) I chose high school over elementary school for a reason, and that level of math is what I am passionate about. (Was passionate about? Wait, I can still BE right?)

It's been a strange, and illuminating path of exploration in pouring my creative juices into the toddler world. I guess that's a part of who I am now.

These past couple of days have been rough emotionally; and I'm learning a LOT about myself I'd never realized before. There are a lot of mental, emotional, and spiritual aspects that I need to recognize as I step away from a professional career that I was actually quite good at. (For example, I'd finally gotten good at setting healthy boundaries at work - but I'm suddenly floundering in figuring out what those should be and how to put them in place at home. That's probably worth a whole blog post in itself!)

I'm scared that I won't have anything "interesting" to contribute in conversation with my husband. (Really, the way that I used my Bed Bath and Beyond coupon to purchase the k-cups I'd been eyeing at a lower price than Target isn't exactly newsworthy in most people's eyes.) But I know that this fear is most likely rooted in some insecurities about finding new significance in my job as a full-time homemaker.

Well, I've digressed, and digressed. That one Facebook post opened a full-on FLOOD of thoughts and emotions. It's obvious I've got a bunch of stuff on my heart and mind and could probably write forever tonight; but then what next amazing post would there be to look forward to? Guess that's what this blog is turning in to - morphing from our journey through infertility to my personal journal about figuring out how to transition to this new chapter of life. The Good Lord is definitely at work, that's for sure! I also will be returning to work next week for final exams so that I can pack up my classroom and say "hey" to my peeps one more time. (Why haven't I every bought waterproof mascara?! Apparently I may need it...)

Time to wrap it up for tonight - the boys are asleep (still can't believe there are TWO of them now!) and the hubby is on his way home. I've got to go Google something interesting to tell him.