5 down, 5 to go…
Today I completed day 4 of my new job. Yeah, I got a job in Lindon, doing basically exactly what I was doing before (Payroll Specialist). So far I love it and I love the people. I don’t love the drive, but I know I’ll get used to it, especially since when I worked for Mangrove, the daily drive was even farther than this one. The construction on I-15 definitely doesn’t help things though.
Today I also completed day 5 of Bart being gone. We stayed up at Zack’s house Wednesday night and they left for the hunt early (before I was awake) Thursday morning and won’t be back until Sunday, the 16th (no clue WHEN on Sunday they’ll be back…) LOL The longest we’ve been apart I believe was 5 days, when he went to California for work. So, knowing that he’d be gone for TEN days this time was kinda weird for me to even think about. What I didn’t think about though, was that not only will he be gone for ten days, but he has no cell service either… so I have no way to talk to him at all! At least when he was in California, we still talked and/or texted every day. So, it’s a really strange feeling. I hope he’s having fun and I hope they’re being safe, but I admit I’m pretty selfish. I have a hard time falling asleep without him around and I miss him already. I find myself worrying about silly things. I know I shouldn’t worry, but anyone who knows me, knows that I worry about people that I love. It’s definitely true that “absense makes the heart grow fonder”. hahaha I really do miss him, but I’m grateful for the rare times that we are apart like this, because it always makes me realize how lucky I am to have him around all the time. No particular reason, just that I like talking to him and hearing about his day, and listening to him laugh and playing with Gideon and hugging him when he comes home from work and laying in bed talking about whatever comes to mind. Oh and Gideon pretty much has just been sleeping a lot – apparently I don’t play with him properly (and he has to get used to me working all day now, too!)
Only 5 ish days to go…… 
Journal Entry
I was looking through some of my old Journals today (which I do every once in a while when I’m working on my book, to get a “refresher” on memories) and came across this entry and it made me smile. (and obviously it has nothing to do with my book 
)
9/23/2003
Today is Taisha’s 12th birthday. I can’t believe how fast time is going! Sometimes I really miss living with them and seeing the kids every day. Oh and Kaitlyn started walking this week! It’s so cute and she is surprisingly good (haha). I slept over there on Thursday night and watched her all day Friday. It was nice to be with her again. She’s growing so fast. Speaking of growing fast, I got a letter from Magui and Geary last week. They sent me two pictures. One on Dustin’s “1 1/2 birthday” and one of his first day in Nursery at church. He is SO big. He’s got 13 teeth and they said sometimes he uses them to get back at Shelton (couldn’t help but laugh a little!) His favorite thing is his cars. He says “vroom vroom” 
It made me so happy to hear from them. I wasn’t expecting it.
So… wow. Today is Taisha’s 20th birthday and I’ll repeat the same words: I can’t believe how fast time is going. Even though she has grown so much and has a child of her own, sometimes it’s hard for me to not still see her as a little girl. I have this problem with all of the kids. LOL But I feel blessed that I have such awesome nieces and nephews and that I get to be part of their lives.
I would so love to see a picture of Dustin and know more about what he’s like, but I’ll take what I can get. My high from getting the small update a couple weeks ago is still going pretty strong, even though I haven’t received a response to my reply email yet. I have faith that they will though, so I won’t pick at what I “wish” to be and I’ll focus on what IS.
I have felt pretty good the past week. I started going to Zumba on the 15th and although I haven’t actually made it to the class every day (because of interviews this week, mostly) I have worked out every day, whether it was Zumba or Turbo Jam. So, I’m very proud of myself for working out every day. By every day, I mean Monday thru Friday. I really wanted to try to work out EVERY day, but weekends are just too busy and I decided that since that’s when Bart isn’t working and we can spend time with each other and go places and stuff, Saturday and Sunday, my priority is family. Anyway, I weighed myself on Monday and from working out the previous week, I lost 5 lbs. I’m not going to let myself step on the scale more than once a week, because I’ve found that if I weigh myself every day, my weight fluctuates SO much that it tends to bring me down if I weigh myself and I’m UP a pound from the previous day, etc. So… I admit I’m kind of eager to weigh myself on Monday and see how I did, considering I worked out as hard as I could this week. On Monday, I actually went to Zumba, did Turbo Jam in the afternoon AND went on a 2-3 mile walk with Harmony (and got an awesome sunburn to show for it!) She also gave me a “Camelbak” water bottle (mine’s pink ) just like the one she has (and I’m pretty sure Lena and my mom and possibly even Heather all have the same kind) and oddly enough, it’s REALLY helped me increase my water intake. I’ve already proved to myself in the past that it’s easier to drink water out of a straw than it is to unscrew a water bottle and drink that way. I know that sounds ridiculous, but for whatever reason; it’s true. I drink at least double the amount of water that I normally would with a straw than I do any other method. And I can basically continue working out and drink water at the same time with this bottle, rather than STOP to get a quick drink with a normal bottle. And no, CamelBak isn’t paying me to advertise for them, but seriously, this bottle rocks! HAHAHAHA
I went and visited Hallie and Liam the other day. He’s growing really fast (of course… damn babies that refuse to stay babies! lol) and it was sooo nice to hold him. It’s strange to me to not see a nephew very often. I think my relationship with my nephews and nieces is probably a little strange to some people (I’ve had people comment on it before) but keep a few things in mind:
1. I was 8 years old when I became an Aunt, so at the time, that little baby boy was the most interesting thing in the world to me. That mindset has pretty much stayed the same even now, almost 18 years later.
2. I lived with and/or next door to Lena’s kids for like 8+ years, so not only did we see each other every single day, but they pretty much lived at our house during waking hours… often during the night ones too.
3. I don’t have children. More specifically, I do not have my child living with me, so of course I have a piece of my heart that finds happiness in seeing my nephews and nieces grow and develop and succeed and learn and be able to hug and kiss them and tell them I love them when I don’t have the opportunity to see my own child do those things or give him hugs and kisses and tell him that I love him.
So anyway, my point… Liam was born on August 31st and other than this week, I had only seen and held him once. I feel the same way about Nevaeh (Taisha’s daughter) because I don’t get to see her (OR Taisha) very often. I guess that’s part of growing up though. You can’t keep your family 5-10 miles away from you forever.
Jake & Liam - 9/21/2011
Cloud 9… or 100.
A couple posts ago, I mentioned that I had written Dustin’s parents a letter (and in comments, mentioned that they did in fact pick it up). I talked to a couple of my “Birth Mother” friends about my feelings regarding this letter. I write to them often. At least a few times a year, just to update what’s going on in my life and what not. I write to them the way you would write to any friend that you don’t see regularly. They know all about my family, my nieces and nephews, even some of my closest friends. They know about the Birth Mother’s Group that I belong to and what I do to try to help fellow Birth Mother’s deal with their loss. Writing to them is not an uncommon thing and seeing as how I’ve been writing them multiple letters a year for almost 10 years, it’s nothing out of the ordinary… but this letter, that I sent on August 11th, felt different. I really don’t know why, because it’s not like I said a whole lot more than what I usually say, but I had a really strong feeling that this letter would get a response. I also mentioned that in this letter, I offered my email address. Sometimes maybe it’s not foolish to believe in a feeling that strong. Yesterday was a good day.
I always have my iPhone by my bed (that’s what I use as an alarm – Clock alarms? Soooo 10 years ago HAHAHAHA) and I guess I kind of just do the same thing basically every morning. I wake up and check my phone. Sometimes I have texts from people that were sent after I went to sleep the night before, or occasionally a missed phone call (to which my response is always “WAS IT AN EMERGENCY!? AGH!” lol) and then I check my email. Anyone with an iPhone knows that when you have an email, you have notifications on your email “button” that says how many emails there are… mine ALWAYS says like 6 unread emails, or more. Sometimes a dozen. Keep in mind that I have THREE email accounts set up on my phone. My personal, my “business” and my BirthMom Buds email (registrations, requests for technical help, requests for support, etc.) so it’s not new. I always have my fair share of Junk Mail too, which sometimes I delete without even seeing what it is. I can just tell. Anyway, I’m babbling. So I opened my email, went through each one, deleted the junk, la de da, and I see a name that jumps out to me. ”Geary”. My phone previews the first line of the email, so I see “Hi Destiny. This is Geary” and I BOLT upright (almost falling off my bed in the process) and I can’t even describe what my heart did at the moment. Double summer-sault, triple flip, Stop in your tracks….? I immediately started crying, then laughing, then shaking so badly I could barely tap the email to OPEN it (AGH, why won’t it open!??!!?) and laughing at myself for shaking so bad that I couldn’t open it LOL and of course all of this causes Gideon to JUMP up from his deep sleep and run over to my side of the bed, try to climb up, nudge me incessantly until I finally scratched his nose as fast as I could, took a deep breath and was able to open the email. The email was short, but for all it did for my heart, it might as well have been 100 pages. I laughed and cried and read it over and over and over… then immediately texted Heather, then my BirthMom friends; Michelle, and Marilee, and Coley, and… well, a few other people. LOL
Even though it was short, it made me feel so much closer than I have been the past few years. He told me that Dustin was on the honor roll last year and he loves sports and drawing. He said that they talk to Dustin about me often and that he likes getting my letters. He also mentioned that Dustin has trouble sitting still and is a little hyper (I couldn’t help but laugh – wonder who he gets that from?!) Even just that tiny bit of information made me picture him so much clearer. And KNOWING that Dustin knows who I am and that they talk about me takes a huge weight off of my shoulders. I admit that I have never really been SURE that they tell him about me. Some adoptive parents wait until the child is older to explain it, so I just didn’t know. Knowing that he reads my letters and knows who I am… well, it’s an indescribable feeling. I also know that he liked sports when he was really little, but I had no way of knowing if he still DID as a *almost* 10 year old. Knowing things like that make things completely different. It tells you a lot about a child if you know that they prefer reading or playing video games, or if they prefer sports, etc. It really made me think of myself at that age and it makes me happy to know that we may have things in common. (Although for his sake, I hope he didn’t inherit my A.D.D.)
I replied to the email and right now my biggest focus is not to get carried away. LOL I know that email is certainly faster, and Geary even mentioned it would be easier, but still… our agreement was once a year contact and I should not expect more than that, email or paper letter.
Everyone asked this, so I might as well add it but no, there were no pictures. I’m SO happy about the email, not to mention how HUUUUUUGE of a step it is to start communicating via email (since that was NOT part of the original agreement) that I refuse to complain about what I didn’t get. Also, photos were “mentioned”, so I admit I have reason to be hopeful that there may be photos in the near future. They certainly didn’t say “NO” to the request for photos. So, at this point I’m just floating in the joy of what I’ve learned about my baby and nothing in the world could bring me down right now!
In This House…
I actually stole this from Heather’s blog, but I really liked it. This reminds me so much of my family. I think I would hang this on a wall in our house if I could find it.
Surreal
This morning at 5:18 AM, my Great-nephew (no official name yet) was born. 5 lbs. 14 oz. and 20 1/2 inches long. It’s still very surreal to me that Jake is a Dad. Jake has kind of always been (and probably will always be) my “baby”. I was only 8 years old when he was born, so it’s not that I’m that much older than him, but I’ve watched him grow from day 1. He was my first nephew and he made me an Aunt. I did almost everything with him when I was younger. They even lived with us for quiet a while after he was born, so I helped with everything that I could. I fell in love with him the second I saw him and it only continues to grow. I still see him as a little boy, even though he will be turning 18 in less than 6 months. When he told me his girlfriend was pregnant 8 months ago, I thought it hit me pretty hard, but nothing compared to this. There’s a different feeling between “my baby is going to be a Dad” and “My baby IS A DAD!”
Yesterday when Hallie went in for her checkup, her Doctor was concerned with how little the baby was moving. I’m sure there were other concerns involved (such as how small he was) and they decided they needed to induce her. They basically let her go home and get clothes, go eat something, then go right back to the hospital to get started. Jake texted me around 2:50 PM saying he was on the bus from school to Payson and when he got off the bus in Payson, ran to the hospital as fast as he could just in time for her to be walking out, heading to get clothes, etc. The rest is history now.
Dad & Baby
Hallie did really well and I’m told she is doing fine and is just sleeping now after being in labor all night. (Her labor was still a good 7 or so hours shorter than mine!) I’m so proud of Jake for being there for Hallie the entire time. She is very lucky to have him and this baby is very lucky he has such a loving Dad.
He is healthy, beautiful, bald (just like Jake was!) and yup… my baby is a Daddy.
Just the way it is
Skylar and Cassie got married on Saturday! It was an awesome wedding. I cried (not surprising), especially watching Skylar and Cassie take their first dance as a married couple, then even moreso when Cassie danced with her Dad. LOL I’m such a baby. But she looked beautiful and it was one of the funnest, laid back weddings I’d been to (as far as weddings go…) Everyone who knows me knows how I feel about weddings in general, so it was pretty good! :) Heidi flew down from Seattle to be here for it, which was awesome, although she flew back home again this morning. It was cool to have her here though. It’s not very often (ok, NEVER) that she comes to Utah twice in one year! Here are a couple pictures:
Skylar & Cassie (Mr. & Mrs.!)
First Dance
My parents with ALL of their Grandchildren, including their newest
And now there are 12!
Of course since this was a Barney wedding, all the Barney-extensions were there. We’ve been very close to Ryan’s family since Lena and he got married in ’93. They may as well be my brothers and sisters and Aunts and Uncles. Travis (Ryan’s youngest brother) was there with his son Sebastian. Most people that would potentially read this will probably know who this is without explanation, but those of you who don’t – Sebastian and Dustin are about 2 weeks apart. Laurie (Sebastian’s Mom) and I were pregnant together for our entire pregnancies other than the two weeks between when Sebastian was born until Dustin was. They looked SO much alike when they were born, everyone commented on it. As I received pictures while Dustin was growing up, it was almost eerie how much they looked alike. They could easily be mistaken for at least brothers, if not twins. It’s always a little difficult for me to see Sebastian, especially the past few years when more and more time goes by without me hearing from Dustin’s parents, or seeing a picture of him. I don’t KNOW what Dustin looks like. I haven’t seen a picture of him since he was 4 years old, so my mind automatically connects Dustin with Sebastian. I see Sebastian and have to force myself to keep the tears from rushing down my face, mostly because I don’t want to freak him out and wonder why I’ve suddenly gone crazy. lol But really, I talked to him on Saturday and watched him and David playing together (it was kind of cute that David and Sebastian were basically inseparable the entire evening) and I can’t help but wonder if Dustin looks that way, or if he has the same mannerisms, or likes the same things. It’s been a couple years since I’ve seen Sebastian in person (seeing pictures of him is even difficult sometimes) so it was sort of a shock to me to see this completely “grown up” little boy that talks like a normal person and does things independently, etc. It’s strange that he’s not a little boy anymore and SEEING him not a little boy made me realize even more that Dustin is no longer a little boy either. It’s really difficult for me to actually grasp that sometimes, considering that the last picture I have to look at is him as a 4 year old boy, so that’s how Dustin still is in my mind. I can’t help it. If I have no other image to put in my mind, he basically stays a little boy forever.
So… kind of on the same subject (and I’ve actually started to write about this quite a few times and haven’t been able to get the words out), but I dropped off a letter to Dustin’s parents a few weeks ago. The 11th, to be exact. It was a Thursday and almost 5:30 when I got there. The lady that now handles all the correspondence at the agency leaves at 5:30. I was fortunate enough that she happened to still be there, although her door was already closed and she basically took the letter just to save me another trip, but she informed me that she didn’t work on Friday’s, so she wouldn’t be calling the adoptive parents until Monday (the 15th). Of course I didn’t argue… not like I have any choice since I have no other options of communicating with them! Well, in this letter, I offered them my email address as a possible form of communication, thinking maybe it’s a little too difficult for them to get to the agency (I know that it’s fairly difficult for me, so I just thought maybe it is for them too… I don’t know where they live or how often they’re over that way). I’ve been a little anxious about it… for some reason this time I have a different feeling. I always get my hopes up when I send a letter off, thinking maybe *this time* they’ll respond and I’ll get a letter. Obviously that hasn’t happened since 2006, so I don’t really know what’s different about this letter, but I really have been feeling like maybe they’ll answer this time. It’s stronger than I’ve ever felt before. I fully accept that it’s possible that my hope has just built too high this time, that for whatever reason, my subconscious is allowing it to go past the point of no return… it’s very possible (and in all reality – pretty likely) that they won’t respond, that it’ll be no different than the past hundred letters I’ve written (ok, not a hundred, but still…) so I don’t know. Anyway, I got a little overly anxious last week, so I called the agency (on the 23rd) to confirm that the letter had been picked up. It hadn’t. The second she said “It’s still here”, my heart sank. I felt like I was going to throw up, it hit me that fast. I built up enough to ask if she could tell me whether the last letters I’d dropped off (months ago) had ever been picked up. She quickly confirmed that ALL letters I’ve written in the past have been picked up and signed for, so not to worry that far. I asked when they called them and she said “we called them on the 18th”. ….the 18th? So, it sat there for an ENTIRE week before they even called to tell them they had a letter waiting? Then she informs me that they don’t make another attempt to contact until like 3-4 weeks after the first attempt. There’s nothing I can do about it, so I just said “thank you” and that was that. I have no control over contacting them, so this is what I have to do. Well, I tried to be patient, but it didn’t work as well as I thought… I called again today. I asked the lady if they had picked up the letter. She said “No, they haven’t.” I immediately started crying. I apologized over and over. I really felt frustrated that I couldn’t control my emotions and that this poor woman was the one caught in the crossfire. I apologized more and tried to explain that I’m feeling anxious about this particular letter and blah blah blah and she said “normally I only call a couple once a month if they have a letter waiting, but I’ll set aside everything else right now and call all three numbers that I have for them. Would that help?” …I think I said “Thank you, thank you, thank you” at least 20 times. Cried some more. ”Thank you” some more. Said it would really mean a lot, yada yada yada. I really do appreciate the agency. It isn’t their fault when I feel overly frustrated. It isn’t their fault that Dustin’s parents haven’t written, or that they haven’t picked up their letter. *Sigh* Just sometimes it’s frustrating not knowing where to direct my emotions when no one, including myself, can control this situation. I do hope they pick it up… but I don’t think I should call to ask again. It won’t help me. If they’re contacted twice, they’ll obviously know it’s there… it’s up to them whether they pick it up or not…. All I can do is hope.
Memories
Growing up in Santaquin, our “front” bathroom (we called it that because it was toward the “front” of the house and the second bathroom was the “back” of the house…) was a narrow, fairly small bathroom with no windows other than a sky-light. The hallway through our house was very narrow as well, which prevented said bathroom from having a normal swinging door, so it had a sliding door, very much like the average sliding closet door. I had this memory pop into my head this morning, completely randomly, but I smiled thinking about the good memories.
I loved growing up in that drafty, creaky old house. My mentioning the front bathroom has a purpose, because it was the start of my memory this morning. My siblings and I used to go in there with a bouncy-ball, close the toilet lid, plug the sink, close the cabinets and sliding door and throw that bouncy-ball as hard as we could at a wall, or sometimes up into the sky-light and watch it bounce hell-crazy all around the bathroom until it either got caught somewhere, or hit one of us in the head. This was hilarious and we’d do it over and over and laugh hysterically. And we did it often.
My happiest childhood memories consist of us coming up with the most random ways to entertain ourselves. We never sat around and did “nothing”, or watched TV, or played Video Games (Video Games were something we rented once or twice a year (along with the console) – particularly Thanksgiving vacation, but never did we OWN one). We created games like “Roof-to-roof”, which was played on rainy days and was played by us running between the different awnings around our house trying to see who could stay the driest, and spent a lot of time climbing the trees in our back yard, convinced that we could see all the way to Provo if we climbed to the VERY top (realistically, it was probably just Payson -MAYBE Spanish Fork- we were seeing, but that’s ok…) All throughout the summers, we would sleep on the roof of the carport, or sometimes the roof of the house, as often as we could. For this very reason, I’ve told Bart that the next house that we buy (or if we’re able – BUILD) I want to have at least one section of the house that has a flat roof, so we can sleep on the roof on warm nights. We played “night-games”, which for one reason or another were 10 times funner at night than during the day, even though most of the games we played were easily “day-games” too NIGHT games, that had to be played at night, were mostly “Ghost in the Graveyard”, or even “Hide-and-seek” was funner at night, because we’d all dress in our darkest clothes and make it way harder for the person who was “it” to find us hiding. Sometimes we’d simply lay flat on the ground in Grandma-Mary’s (next door neighbor) huge back yard. When it was dark enough, you could potentially trip over someone “hiding” on the ground before you ever saw them. I miss the days when playing “Night-games” wasn’t considered dangerous and our parents didn’t really think about us getting kidnapped or murdered… I wish there was a way to keep certain things sacred, even to psychos. If kids want to enjoy playing games with their friends at night, it should just be universally untouchable by all bad people. LOL
My sisters and I used to put tights on our heads and pretend we had long flowing hair, or we’d crawl around gracefully on the back of the couches and pretend we were cats (often resulted in me falling off the back of the couch and getting bruises, but I never minded). I miss cushion “forts” and times when we would string bed sheets all around the living room to create HUGE clubhouses that basically prevented the living room from being used properly at all. I’m glad our parents never seemed to care. I don’t remember ever being scolded for pulling all the cushions off the couch, or COVERING the room with sheets. I do remember our Mom being a little paranoid about us sleeping on the roof and expressing her discomfort about it, but she still never forbid us from doing it. I always wanted to tie bed sheets around my neck so that I could run around with the biggest flowing “cape” there was.
I love the smell of tools, car grease and Home Improvement/Hardware stores, because they remind me of my Dad. Him taking me with him on service calls/jobs and letting me hand him tools. Once, while driving on the freeway heading to a job, he told me that you should never, ever “drink and drive”. On another drive, I saw him took a big long drink out of his water jug and I stared at him and said “YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO DRINK AND DRIVE!” and he laughed. I didn’t see how doing something so dangerous could be so funny. Feeling SO cool riding in the “Jolly Green Giant” (My dad’s work truck that was dark forest green). His hands drumming/BEATING on the steering wheel while listening to “The Moody Blues”. Until I was at least 12 or so years old, in order to talk into my Dad’s “good” ear (he is completely deaf in his left ear) I had to hold out both of my hands, turn around so that I was facing the same direction he was and consciously think of which ear matched my left hand… once that was figured out, I could turn around and talk to the correct side. I love the creases next to my Dad’s eyes, which have been there as long as I have memory of, because he’s always smiling or laughing. I used to rub my fingers against those “laugh lines” and he’d say that I put them there because I was so funny.
Whether I see it, or simply smell it, “Oil of Olay” face cream makes me think of my Mom (I’m pretty sure she still uses it…). Every night before bed, she’d ask us if we brushed our teeth and when we said “yes”, she’d make us blow in her face so she could smell the toothpaste. Sometimes I lied and she’d make a twisted, exaggerated “EW” face that made me giggle myself purple (then she’d make me REALLY go brush my teeth!) She used to lightly rub my arms with her fingertips to make me fall asleep and I’d make request for songs for her to sing. My favorite song was “Our House”. Once, I had failed to complete my chores for the day (dishes) and she came home from work late that evening and saw the dishes still piled in the sink. I had already played all day, which I knew very well I wasn’t supposed to do without having done my “job”. She told me I had to wash the dishes before I went to bed and proceeded to sit at the kitchen table, patiently waiting, not saying anything, and stared at me while I stood at the sink crying about how tired I was and that I was probably going to die if I was forced to do ALL of the dishes before bed. I’m pretty sure I ended up falling asleep at the sink and to this day, I’m not sure if I finished those dishes, or if she did after I went to bed. Either way, every time I tell myself that I’m gonna do the dishes “tomorrow”, I have flash backs of that night.
My dad gave us a huge REAL chalk board and Heidi and I had it in our room. I was once REALLY angry at my Mom (for what, I have no idea) and she had made me stay in my bedroom. I wrote “I Hate Mommy” in big, huge writing on that chalk board and a little while later, Daddy came in to talk to me about whatever horrible thing I had done (and was for sure guilty of) and he asked me who wrote that on the chalk board. I lost all my fury and strength instantly and said “Heidi did!”
Wanting to tag along with Lena everywhere she went – sometimes she’d let me go, even if she was going to hang out with her super cool teenage friends. I admired everything about her from the way she walked, to her super frizzy 5 inch-high bangs to her faded frayed jeans with holes in the butt (she wore black stretch pants underneath).
Christopher teaching me to play basketball. Him shooting me in the leg (by accident) with a BB gun and the awe-inspiring speech about how guns were not meant to play with and he would protect his sisters by any means necessary if there ever came a time where he had to shoot someone with his BB gun. Christopher spraining my ankle the day before third grade; by swinging me around in circles (by holding onto only my ankle) and letting go, then the indescribable guilt he had as he stayed by me when I lay on my death bed from said ankle sprain.
Harmony forbidding me from touching her dolls or coloring in her coloring books, then every once in a while, she’d let touch her dolls with supervision and letting me have ONE page in her coloring book. Harmony teaching me to outline every picture before coloring it in, and coloring with light swoops, keeping your crayon/colored pencil going the same direction the whole time. Breaking/shattering (and ripping the toenail completely off) Harmony’s big toe by smashing the kitchen bench on it -while she was sweeping, I sat on the bench rocking it back and forth and her nicely saying over and over “stop swinging the bench, it’s gonna fall over!”
Sharing a bedroom with Heidi and her telling me not to touch her side of the room. I don’t remember how that worked out since we pretty much always had bunk-beds. Sometimes I thought Heidi had died in her sleep because she didn’t move or make any sounds. Once, when I was maybe 7-8 years old (which made Heidi 10-11), we were riding our bikes up and down the block and for reasons I don’t remember, she called me a Bitch. I screamed at the top of my lungs that I was going straight home and telling Mommy, which resulted in the most intense bike-race home that you can imagine. I FLEW down the street with her close at my heels, flailed off my bike the second I reached our house before my wheels even had a chance to stop spinning, RAN into the house, into my Mom’s bedroom where she and her friend sat talking and as loud and as strongly as I could muster, interrupting whatever conversation they were in the middle of, screamed “HEIDI CALLED ME A BIIIIIIITCH!!!” I don’t even remember what happened or what our punishment was (’cause I’m sure she punished us both… she never just punished ONE person because there was always at least a little fault on both sides). …Falling off the top bunk bed in my sleep… on numerous occasions… and I still wanted the top bunk. …Eventually my Mom made me take the bottom bunk – the way of convincing was telling me it would be easier for her to sing to me and rub my arms if I was on the bottom bed.
A few earlier memories (really, my EARLIEST) happened in our Genola house. We would play “butt bumpers” by sitting on the top of the stairs and gradually “bumping” our way down to the bottom on our butts. It’s no wonder we didn’t all have bruised/broken tail bones at one point or another… My Dad built my sisters and me a HUGE doll house with multiple levels and tons of rooms. When I say HUGE, I mean it was really huge. Heidi and I could fit in one of the rooms together if we curled up in a ball together. We still have that doll house. It’s currently at Lena’s house (disassembled, but still there!) I don’t actually remember ever playing with dolls in it (although I’m sure we did…) but I remember playing with the house itself ALL the time.
You know… as sappy as it may sound, I couldn’t be more grateful to my parents for the memories I have as a child. I have very few “bad” memories. I love that I still have close relationships with all of my siblings and that most of us (excluding Heidi, who lives in Washington ) live close enough that we can see each other often. Regardless of distance, I’m glad that we have close enough relationships to know what’s going on in each other’s lives and talk to each other often throughout the week to know even the smallest details. It’s sad to me that kids growing up right now don’t have the same freedoms I did when I was young, because the world is becoming a more and more unsafe, scary place. I hope that people raising small children right now can at least try their hardest to keep some of that innocence alive.
1 Year Later
This morning after Gideon and I came in from playing outside for a bit, I asked if he wanted a treat and of course he ran straight for his “bed” – where his crate used to be and he still knows that the area where it used to be is “bed”. I wanted to take a picture of him, as I do often, and after I took it, I realized it was almost exactly the same as a picture I took of him a year ago, just a couple weeks after we took him home. I can’t believe how much he’s grown, and it’s funny that most of the time, I don’t even notice how big he is until I look at little pictures of him.
August 24, 2010
August 4, 2011
He weighed about 9 lbs. when we took him home for the first time. He now weighs 93.5 lbs. WOW, babies grow fast! but look how handsome
Busy, happy week.
This past week, (starting Thursday, June 23rd) has been pretty busy. In a good way. First of all, Thursday morning started with going to the hospital to hang out with David while Harmony and Brian went in for a c-section. A few hours later (around 10:55 AM) Lydia Avigael was born. 8 lbs. 11 oz. and 20-1/2 inches long. She is beautiful and I am oh-so in love (as are her parents and BIG BROTHER!) :)
Most of the morning, while Harmony was getting prepped and everything, David and I played in the hallway, walked around, etc. and he kept talking about how life-altering this day was. Of course, he’s 5, so he didn’t use those exact words, but kept saying “I’m turning into a different person today!” and how great being a big brother was going to be. He talked about how everything he had was now “theirs” instead of just his… I actually tried to convince him that *his* things were in fact still HIS, but he wouldn’t agree – kept saying “No, big brothers share everything”, so… I wasn’t gonna argue. LOL My mom had sent them with a present for David to open and he kept saying it was for him AND Goldfish. There was no convincing him otherwise, so we basically said “oh, well ok!” After Harmony was brought back into the room; tummy significantly smaller 
she informed David he had a little sister. YAY! He was quite impatient and couldn’t wait to see her, so I brought him downstairs (after he made SURE Harmony was ok) to look through the nursery window. Brian was in there and was grinning from ear to ear as he held up his PINK wrist band. David could see Lydia through the window and was in awe. He kept trying to climb up higher so he could see her. He kept saying things like “being a big brother is the best feeling in the world!” and when he heard her crying through the glass, he was concerned and said “she wants her big brother!” Of course we couldn’t go IN there, so we had to wait like a full 5 minutes before they brought her out so he could see her. He loved her chubby cheeks (and still, a week later, tells everyone that her cheeks are his favorite part of her). She had a significantly high heart beat when she was born (which quickly corrected itself – no concern), so just to be cautious, they brought her to the NICU for 24 hours for observation. I was sad about this, mostly because it meant that Harmony would not get a lot of one-on-one time with her baby girl. This happened when David was born because of his extremely low blood-sugar and I think the lack of physical contact was hurtful to Harmony at the beginning. But even with the 24 hours in the NICU, they are doing great and Harmony glows with a huge grin every time she looks at her. I was also very proud of Brian for insisting that before the nurses whisked Lydia off to the NICU, that they bring her to Harmony at least for a few minutes. He was insistent on that and I definitely think it helped. She got at least 10-15 minutes with her before they took her. 10 very important minutes. I firmly believe that the physical contact between mother and child as early as possible are very important. Later, Brian and I went downstairs to the cafeteria to get lunch and I kept laughing when I looked at him because he was so giddy, he looked like a little boy on Christmas morning. He kept randomly breaking silence with “hehe, I have a little girl” and at one point started laughing out of nowhere and said “I have two kids!” He even told the two children (couldn’t have been any older than 10 years old) in the elevator on the way back upstairs that he had a new baby girl. To say that he’s totally and completely “smitten” by this little girl is an enormous understatement. LOL Anyway… she is beautiful, she and Harmony are both doing wonderfully and they were released Monday morning and are now home.
Our annual family camping trip started the next morning. So, we all went up to Timp. Campground and the majority of the family is still up there as we speak. Harmony actually came up Monday morning after being released just to spend a little time with the family and finally give Pa his chance to hold his Grand daughter for the first time (no one was allowed to hold her in the NICU ) I spent most of the weekend going from the campsite down to the hospital as often as I could, so I was grateful that we camped locally this year. It’s been really fun, just to relax up in the mountains, play games, sit around and talk and just not think about all the other stresses that have been on my mind. Bart wasn’t able to come up until Saturday afternoon and had to go home Sunday because he had to work Monday, but I was really happy he got to come up at all. Gideon stayed the night as well and I was pretty impressed with how well he did, considering he’s never been camping before. Of course there was the initial spazzing when we got there and he had to make everyone say “hi” to him, but all in all, I was happy he was up there too and got the experience. I actually got to be completely alone up there for a few hours on Monday while everyone went to the cave and I was amazed at how relaxed I felt. I read my book most of the time, but just sitting in almost complete silence, other than the birds chirping and the few seconds of my face-to-face with a deer (lol), it was very relaxing and was surprised at how easily I let go of all the other things that have been weighing on my mind lately. Heidi and Matty are visiting from Washington as well, so it’s been nice to spend time with them (and see Matty getting to know our family. He fits right in!) (I have lots of camping pictures on Facebook, if you want to check them out.)
Isaac, Nevaeh, Kaitlyn, Eli
Marshmallow Wars
Brian wanted to camp, but really didn’t want to leave Harmony alone at home, so I stayed at her house with her and Lydia Tuesday night. I loved every minute of it, even being woken up 4+ times throughout the night. I helped feed her (Harmony is pumping so even when she isn’t breast feeding, Lydia is still getting her milk instead of formula) and change her, which included one slightly explosive diaper that went halfway up her back LOL and rocked her and sang to her. If you have to be ridiculously physically tired the next day, that’s gotta be the best reason. Even though at least one of the times I woke up, I could hardly keep my eyes open, looking at her and having her open her eyes and look straight at me, was the best feeling in the world.
The past couple weeks, David has periodically asked me “what’s it feel like to be an Aunt?” and the only answer I could really come up with is “it’s the best feeling in the world!” I’m sure most of you who know me, know that I still have that piece of me that aches every time I hold (or see) a new baby, because I can’t help but relive the brief moment that I was a Mother, holding my newborn son, but the only feeling that can even remotely measure up to that moment in my life, is holding my nieces and nephews and knowing that I’ll be able to hold them the rest of my life.
First of all, the job interview I mentioned in the previous post… well, I doubt that’s gonna happen. For one, when they called me, they told me they were interviewing myself and one other person that they had previously interviewed months ago. Then I called back a couple days later and was told by a different person that they were interviewing TONS of people and it would be “a while” before they made a decision. Basically eliminated my hopes to Zero. The End.
I’ve been having a really hard time thinking straight lately. I don’t know what I want to do. I don’t know what I can do and it seems that no one’s willing to give me a chance either way. I feel trapped. I feel useless. I’m trying really hard not to constantly be a huge downer, (I really do try and most of the time I’m able to pull of a fairly content front so people aren’t constantly asking me how I’m doing…) but still, I just feel like I’m standing still in life. I see hardly anything happening in my future and I feel like I’m gonna die without having accomplished anything, or done anything. -This thinking may be what lead me to the current craziness that everyone seems to be against. I applied for a (seasonal) job in Alaska, working at some fishing lodges. I’m acquainted with the man that owns said lodges and we had a really good professional relationship, so unless he is just completely fully staffed, which is possible considering the season actually started a month ago, but I think there’s a chance he might be willing to give me a job. Room and board basically included. Bart is always great and his response to me telling him about this was “if it’s something you want to do, go for it.” On the inside, I know he thinks I’m insane and maybe there’s even part of him that thinks I can’t do it. I don’t really care much. I’m not saying I don’t care what he thinks, but in general, all that matters to me is that he’s supportive (even if it’s fake support) and kisses me goodbye when I go. Their season only goes until mid September and honestly, I think it would be good for me to get away from here without doing something completely irresponsible and possibly damaging things permanently. I figure I can’t really afford to just run away somewhere just to take time for myself, so the next best thing would be to run away and WORK while I’m at it. I think it’d be good for me. For a lot of reasons. Honestly though, with my luck, it won’t happen anyway, so it won’t hurt anything to have tried. I know everyone is laughing at me about it, (other than maybe Michelle, Harmony and Robin, who actually agreed that it would be good for me…) but honestly that actually motivates me even more to see if it’s possible. I simply feel like with every person that tells me that’s crazy, it’s one more person telling me that I “can’t”, which is what motivates me to try for it. It’s nice to know that people in my life don’t think I can survive on my own… and without Bart “taking care” of me, I’d be nothing. Comforting feeling, really…. *Thumbs up* …Don’t get me wrong. Bart DOES take care of me and I appreciate his hard work more than anything. I appreciate him more than anything right now, because without him, I’d probably just never get out of bed. But what I’m struggling with is the fact that people seem to think I CAN’T survive without him taking care of me. I’m referring to a comment like “you think you could live without Bart for three months?” Would I miss him? Absolutely. Could I physically breathe in and out and feed myself and bathe myself and go to the bathroom and go from point A. to point B.? Yeah, actually, I think I probably could. Thanks.
On a happier note – I’m down 8 lbs. Woot.