Scenes of Christmas



Setting up the tree.




Helping Daddy with the lights.




Daddy decorated Cim. She begged us to hang ornaments off her for the next week.




Our tree and presents on Christmas morning. (Half of the gifts are from the Dollar Tree or tag sales--shh!)




Cimorene discovers her stocking. It had a bear, which meant she automatically loved it.




"Look what I found! Can I keep it?"




Daddy got a stocking too. Santa was sneaky, so he had no idea he was getting one.




Santa's belly and red robe had nothing on mine!




The stocking stuffers were all Cim really needed for the day. Birds, a cat, and a glitter wand. Oh yeah.




Our pondering princess. She put the headbands on herself.




I'm not sure what she's trying to turn that bird into, but apparently it's not working.




Ryan had fun wrapping.




I loved his decorations. This box held the traditional bag of Doritos. :-D




"You better watch out..." --This song has never seemed so appropriate.

 

As an extra gift to me, Ryan changed the poopy diaper. Cimorene didn't care what was going on--she had her toys.



Castle Cakes

The other day I was a at a tag sale and found a cake pan that I had to have. Now, normally cake pans don't have that kind of magnetism for me; I usually don't make more than one or two cakes a year, so why would I bother buying lots of pans? This pan, however, was a Nordic Ware castle pan.

When I showed it to Ryan he got really excited, because apparently his class has had a running joke about one of the guys having a castle. We decided that the first castle cake should go to his class.

I was really worried about getting the cake out of the pan, so I watched a video of tips on the Nordic Ware website first. This was our first attempt:

It came out a little dark, so we decided we'd eat that one and try again for his class. This was our second attempt:

His class loved it, and we felt validated for our efforts. The next day he came home and said they were having a pot-luck at school for about 60 people this weekend, and he had told them he'd bring a castle cake. For that many people, though, he thought we should probably do two. We grabbed a box of red velvet mix and one of dark chocolate. Here's what we got:

So what have I learned from this? That a really awesome cake pan has the power to turn a 1-or-2-cakes-per-year person into a 4-cakes-in-three-days person.

I also learned that it's time for me to buy a set of medieval legos. These cakes are just begging for knights and dragons.

Keeping Faith in Humanity

Two weeks ago I was really stressed out. I was trying to get a washing machine, we'd been wearing dirty clothes for two or three weeks already, and things kept going wrong. In the middle of problems and stress, though, I was helped by two wonderful men who need to be thanked by name.

The first was Eddie. I found Eddie on Craigslist, selling a washing machine and dryer. I asked him if he'd sell me just the washing machine (a wonderful family had given us their old dryer), and we made arrangements to pick it up. When we picked it up, Eddie said that he had hooked it up a couple days earlier and it ran fine, and that if for some reason it didn't work for us, he'd give us our money back. That's a rare type of promise from a Craigslist dealer, so we were sure the washing machine would be just fine.

Well, of course when we got the machine home and hooked it up, it ran water all over our floor. And of course we didn't know what box most of our towels/rags were in, and we hadn't bought a mop yet, so we used 3 rolls of paper towels to clean it up.

I texted Eddie and told him what had happened. And, amazingly enough, he held true to his word. He told us he'd give our money back.

The next day I went to a store that specialized in appliance repair but also sold used washers. That's where I met Mike.

Mike was a sweet, friendly man about my dad's age. He told me about his granddaughter, who's a toddler, and he just loved Cimorene. I explained the problem we'd had, and he was eager to help. He said it was probably a really easy fix, and that Ryan might be able to fix it himself. He told me some things to have Ryan look at, and then sold me a new cord I needed for the dryer--at a 25% discount, because my husband's in the military (I think it was partly that and partly that Cim was being super cute and giving him high-fives).

Ryan looked at the washer that night, and I called Mike the next day to tell him what we thought the problem was. He told me to have Ryan call him later and he'd walk Ryan through some more diagnostic things. He even gave me his cell-phone number, which he said would self-destruct after one use, because he doesn't normally give out that number--keep in mind, he's doing all of this without expecting to make any kind of profit.

Well, the washing machine ended up being pretty rusted out, so we decided it wasn't worth the hassle of trying to repair it, but we were able to go get a really nice used one from a store that Mike recommended. They delivered and installed it for free because my husband's in the military, and then they hauled away the old one to dump for us (they didn't even want it for parts). Oh, and Eddie gave us our money back as promised, so everything turned out really well for us.

I'm still planning to make Mike and his staff cookies. I don't know if they have any idea what their kindness and helpfulness meant to this pregnant lady who had just finished a month-long hotel stay with a teething one year old. I don't know if this situation would have seemed like a big deal for most people, but by day 3 of the scenario I was feeling pretty overwhelmed, and the fact that EVERYONE involved was so kind to me made it seem much more manageable.

I'm grateful for the bright spots in trials, the things that make you say, "yeah this situation stinks, but the world is a good place." I'm grateful for good men like Eddie and Mike, who have a sense of integrity and charity, and who help me keep my faith in humanity. There are awful people in this world, but there are also some who are wonderful, and who do little things to make people's lives easier. This is my thank-you to them.

Belated Birthday Tribute

Ryan turned 27 last month, and amidst the craziness of moving and military, his birthday sort of got lost. So here's the post that he should have gotten several weeks ago.

The other day I was listening to a song, and it struck me for the first time just how much it reminded me of my wonderful husband. Those of you who know Cooley, picture him singing this with gusto:

(I highly recommend you listen to the song as you read the lyrics.)

Big Time

by Sam Payne

Hey kid, wanna hit the big time? I pushed my glasses up

And I put down my comic book, surprised that they were approaching me.

Jumped in, they took me to her papa; told me every detail

Seems they'd taken his fair daughter, needed one outside the family

To take the briefcase full of cash to the Italian with the limp

And wait inside the car for them to slip her in.

Someone to drive her home and be presented with a check,

About the size that he might never have to work again.

Sounded like the Big Time to me.

You know what everybody says about the plans of mice and men

Well I wound up in a freezer, with the oxygen a'goin fast.

She lay beside me on the concrete

Goose egg about the size of the lump within my throat

And my life began to pass.

So I tripped the frozen tumblers with the earpiece of my glasses,

Surprised the man outside before he made a sound.

Then I went and threw my body between her and flying bullets,

Hotwired us a car and left that part of town

Headed for the Big Time.

Big check, big congratulations;

An extra zero for the freezer time, and for the inconvenience of the bullet holes.

I swear you could have heard a pin drop as I watched myself push it back across his desk

And heard myself say, "That's not how it goes.

'Cause every hour of the last few, I've spent them every one

With my body and my soul upon the line for her.

I was in it for the money, but I'll trade it if she'll have me

For a chance at fifty years with her, or fifty more."

"And I'll take more than bullets for her.

Give me a lawn to mow, give me some kids to grow.

More than bullets for her.

I'll stay on through gray mornings when we're both confused and slow."

I guess we rode into the sunset; at least it seems we did

But a million years have come and gone, and details have begun to go.

Big check torn up long ago; or I assume it was;

Perhaps there never was one in the first place.

Well, it's tough to know.

Could it be I met her back in college?

Maybe I just asked her out to Dairy Queen.

Would my life be any less upon the line for her, if that were true?

Would you still believe me if I said

I've been feeling like the Big Time?

Ever since I met her, like the Big Time.

Ryan and I have had some crazy adventures. This blog, on which we post so infrequently, tells only a tiny portion of our adventures in China, Rexburg, Utah, Pennsylvania, and now California.

But while I love knowing that my husband would "throw his body between [me] and flying bullets," the little daily things mean so much more. Things like a couple days ago when he was on his hands and knees scrubbing the kitchen floor with paper towels because it was really dirty and we didn't have a mop yet; watching him dance with Cimorene in the living room; hearing him come in from the garage singing.

While we plan to keep having adventures and singing bouncy tunes, I'm grateful for a husband who is also willing to "stay on through gray mornings when we're both confused and slow" (we seem to have had enough of these lately).

These are just some of the things that I love about him; every day I'm more grateful to be married to such a wonderful man.

Happy birthday, Ryan. You're my hero.

Sisters

Yesterday I was shocked to be told that I will having another little girl in January. I'm not sure why I was so certain I was having a boy, but I was definitely surprised.

Since then I've been thinking about how unprepared I am to raise sisters. All I had were brothers; If I don't even know how to be a sister, how will I raise some? Of course, my concern mostly just stems from the same insecurities any mother feels about raising children in general--am I really ready for this?

I keep having the song "Sisters" from the musical "White Christmas" run through my mind (this is the best video I could find). My daughters will be 18 months apart, and I hope that as they grow up they will consider it a blessing to have a sister and friend so close to them. I'm sure there will be times they want to pull each others' hair out, but I hope that overall they love having a sister.

For those of you who have sisters, what is your favorite thing about having/being a sister?

Such as I Have

As we were driving a couple days ago, my dad had an audio version of the New Testament playing. I was struck by the story in Acts where Peter sees the lame man begging and says, "Silver and gold have I none; but such as I have give I unto thee" (Acts 3:6, KJV). He then heals the man--a much better gift than money.

I've been feeling bad this summer because I haven't had money to help my parents buy groceries or help pay for my younger brother's missionary service in Denmark like I had planned on. I've felt like I showed up and have been a burden all summer; I was sick for most of the summer, and my mom has spent a lot of time taking care of me and Cimorene as well as all her usual responsibilities.

But for the last few weeks I've been feeling better, and I've started finding ways to contribute. While my mom's been at school I've spent time cleaning. I've cooked several meals. I drove my younger brother to work, sports, or meetings every night last week. Such as I have, I've been giving. And while I still wish I could contribute financially, it doesn't eat at me anymore. My spirit is more at peace, because I know I'm contributing.

But I know that in a couple months I'll be back in a position where I have little energy, feel overwhelmed, and don't feel able to serve anyone. I struggled with that when Cimorene was born. Logically I knew that my job at that time was to take care of my daughter, but I still felt guilty that I wasn't taking better care of my house and husband, and that I wasn't serving anyone around me.

As I was thinking about this, I remembered an experience I had when I was about 6 or 7 months pregnant with Cim. I was feeling bad because I felt like everyone had been serving me lately (mostly my husband), and that I hadn't been helping anyone else. I prayed one morning that God would help me find someone that day to serve.

That afternoon, right after I got to one of my classes, I overheard two sisters talking. They were discussing how they had both missed lunch that day because of tests, and how hungry they were (it was about 2 p.m.). I suddenly knew how I was supposed to serve. Less than an hour before, I had bought a 12" roast beef sandwich, and I had only eaten one half. I quickly pulled the other half out and offered it to them. They were surprised but grateful, and my heart was full.

It was such a small thing, but so big for me. Just knowing that the Lord could still use me, even when I was tired and overwhelmed, helped me feel valuable and needed.

Remembering that experience helps me to remember that there's always something I can do, but I have to be looking for opportunities to serve. They may not always be obvious, and they may seem small, but they will be there, and if I'm praying and staying close to the Lord, I will see them. And then, such as I have, I will give.

Mornings

This is an excerpt from my journal entry this morning (I've just started writing in my journal again, which feels really good).

In the mornings it's easier for me to be calm, to be quiet. The day has not yet built up inside my head in heaps and jumbles that spill over and get shoved to the side again and again. It's even easier if I'm outside in the morning, feeling the sun that is not yet hot and the air that is not yet tired.

I've lost a lot of morning joy over the last year and a half as I've been morning sick, exhausted from being up all night with a baby, or sleeping away the morning as my daughter naps and another new life forms inside me, using up all my energy. While I know it's part of the season of life I'm in, I'm grateful for mornings like this one, where the house is quiet, I am quiet, and I can remember why I love mornings.

I feel a physical, mental, and emotional uplift as I sit and just reflect on mornings and quiet. I feel more ready for the day, more capable of making it a wonderful day.

And it was.

Feeling

I have very sadly neglected this blog for many, many weeks now. Most of the summer, actually. There are a few reasons for this, but the biggest is that I have spent much of this summer "existing" instead of living.

When Ryan left for Basic Training in the Air Force, I shut down emotionally. I didn't know how to handle him being gone, and instead of just facing the heartache, I ran from it. I tried not to think about him, but since everything reminded me of him, I ended up trying not to think at all. I say I tried not to think about him, but it was really just the actuality of him being gone that I couldn't face--I spent a lot of time thinking about him "from an angle," if you will. I became obsessed with a couple of Facebook pages that offered support for those whose husbands/sons/boyfriends/etc. were in Basic Training. I spent hours poring over information about what to do in San Antonio when I went out for graduation weekend. I searched the internet constantly for information on military moves and housing in California. These things made me feel closer to him, more a part of his world, without making me actually face any of the emotions I was running from.

The main problem with shutting off one kind of emotion, is that all emotion seems to run down the same pipeline. If you stuff a plug in that pipe, the bad stuff gets backed up in there and the good stuff gets stuck with it. Block pain, block joy. Ignore the nervousness and you'll miss the peace.

Now, I'm not saying it's good to dwell on pain and nervousness and fear. But experiencing them and letting them flow through you and then out is part of life, and when you bottle them up they just get worse. Ask me how I know. ;-)

About once a week I would break down and cry, Usually either after Ryan called or when I was waiting for him to call. It was like I suddenly let the plug out for awhile, let most things drain out, and then stuffed the plug back in for another week or so. But when all those bottled emotions were coming out, I only seemed to get the bad ones; the good ones had apparently evaporated.

Maybe you're starting to see why it's a bad coping method.

The worst part, though, is that one of the primary ways I recognize the Spirit of God is through feelings. When I attempted to block those hard emotions that I didn't want to face, I was also blocking all the peace, love, and reassurance I could have been receiving from my Heavenly Father.

Spending a weekend with Ryan in San Antonio for his graduation from Basic Training helped me realize how much I had been blocking. I was suddenly so happy, happy in a way I hadn't been able to be since he left--not only because he was gone, but because I was blocking all strong emotions.

I've recommitted this week to living instead of just existing, and I'm not only happier, I'm more productive. And I've suddenly started noticing things I could blog about again, which means I'm actually thinking (amazing, I know). And though I'm still missing my husband (hopefully only a couple more weeks until I can move to California), I know I'll get more out of my last couple weeks here with my family and my daughter than I have out of most of the summer.

Eleven Months; Eleven Weeks

Today Cimorene is 11 months old. Today Baby #2 is 11 weeks along.

The question on many people's minds (and some people's lips) is, "Was this a surprise?"

Well, it depends on what you consider a surprise.

In March I had a dream about a baby boy, and I woke up pondering. (No, this does not necessarily mean it's going to be a boy; last time I dreamed of twins and got just one baby girl.) Surely it was too early to think about having another baby, though; after all, Cimorene wasn't even sleeping through the night yet.

I went to the temple that day, which, for those of my friends who aren't of my faith, is a place where I feel very close to heaven. It's a place where I feel very confident about the answers I get to my prayers. That day I prayed about whether or not I should have another baby, and I felt very comforted about the whole idea. I went home and talked to Ryan, and told him the answer I had gotten, but told him I wanted him to pray about it too. Later that day he came back and said that he also felt it was time to have another child.

God said jump and I jumped, and I'm excited to be having another baby, but I haven't always been able to maintain the peace I felt about it that day at the temple. Cimorene did start sleeping through the night just days after I made the decision, which helped me start feeling like a human being again (it had been over 8 months since I'd slept well, after all), but that in itself was difficult, because it made me reluctant to give up that healthy, alert feeling. Then I felt guilty for feeling reluctant. I got pregnant quickly, and I was happy about it, because I knew it was right. I was overwhelmed at the thought of putting my body through pregnancy again so soon, but I knew God would take care of me.

That knowledge hasn't changed, but sometimes it's hard to keep perspective. Guilt popped up in my emotions a lot. I felt guilty that the thought of being pregnant overwhelmed me when I had so many friends wishing for a child. I could think of at least 5 young married couples off the top of my head who were struggling with the wait for pregnancy. I wondered why I was getting another child when they were still waiting for their first. Instead of feeling grateful that I was able to get pregnant so easily, I worried about how I would tell my friends.

Part of that burden was removed when two of those friends contacted me within a couple weeks of each other to tell me they were pregnant. I was so happy for them, and also relieved that I could tell them my news without worrying.

Remember how I tend to get overwhelmed? I think I've used that word a few times in this post... Well, here's what I was seeing. I have a baby who's teething. I'm sick. My husband's leaving for Basic Training. We're buying a car. I have to drive it out to California later in the summer, where I have to move into housing that I've found long-distance (oh wait, I have to find it first) without the help of my husband, because he won't be allowed to leave base at first. I have to get through an entire summer without my husband, when I've not been away from him longer than one night in the last 3 years.

I'm still stressed over some of that, but here's what I've seen in the last few weeks.

I'm sick while at home with my wonderful mother, who helps take care of me, plays with my daughter, and changes her diapers when the smell makes me gag. My mom feeds Cim oatmeal in the morning when I can't even sit up straight. She makes me food when I can't get off the couch. My little brother runs up and down the stairs to grab things I need, and he plays with Cim. My dad plays with her. My older brother plays with her. She's in heaven with so much attention, which is good because there are times when I can't even hold her.

I'm not nearly as sick as I was last time. Last time I threw up every day until I reached 16 wks. This time I'm still sick all day (not just mornings), but I've actually had some decent days, and I've only thrown up a few times. (I'm sure you all wanted to know.)

Looking at the way the last few weeks have gone, I can't imagine getting through this stage of pregnancy while Ryan was in language school, say, or starting a new job. Had I waited 6 months to get pregnant, I would have had to go through this by myself for most of the day, and then worry about being too much of a burden on Ryan at night when he was already stressed. Cimorene would have been traumatized by the fact that I couldn't hold her or play with her as much, and I would have felt horribly guilty about it. I would have been living in a new area with people I didn't know and no strength or energy to go out and make friends.

Maybe it would have been different; I'm sure God could have strengthened me and provided a way to get through it. But I can't help admiring His timing, and the way that was provided.

The other emotion on this roller coaster is, of course, joy. Ryan, Cimorene, and I went and got the first ultrasound done 4 days before Ryan left. When I saw that little baby rolling and kicking and waving on that screen, I was filled with excitement and joy. It had arms and legs. It had a face that was almost discernible, even at 9 wks. It stopped rolling and waved one arm at us, just like Cimorene did the first time we saw her on that screen. I saw my baby, and it was mine, and I loved it, that rolling little white shape. I was excited at the thought that in January I'll get to hold him or her (or February if this baby comes late like Cimorene did; I'm due Jan. 25th). All the sickness, all the stretching, the shoving around of my internal organs, the recovery time, the extra weight--it's for a baby. That baby. The one in the picture up there. And that thought brings me joy.

I know that God wanted this baby to come to our family with this timing. Do I understand it? I'm starting to. I'm sure I have more to learn, but I'm definitely grateful that God is the one planning these things.

So back to the initial question: Yes, in a way, this baby was a surprise. I was very surprised in March when I realized it was time to get pregnant again already. But it was also planned--and we were given advance warning by the master planner so that we weren't too surprised.

And now we wait. 29 weeks left. :-)

Joyful Chaos

For those of you who have read the Harry Potter books, you may remember with horror or fondness--depending on your inner tolerance for chaos--the Weasley's house, "The Burrow."

Coming back to my parents' home in Pennsylvania felt like coming home to The Burrow. My parents live in a large white farmhouse, which looks a bit like one of the large barns the area is known for. As you pull up, you're struck by something odd: tin foil in all the windows. Actually, it's emergency survival blankets, shiny-side-out. It reflects the sunlight and keeps the house cooler, because in an old farm house you don't have central air-conditioning.

When you get inside, there's a big stone hearth in the living room with a wood-stove insert. A spinning wheel usually sits in the entryway beside baskets overflowing with wool and yarn, but knowing how much Cimorene would love the spinning wheel--and not wanting any Sleeping Beauty instances--my mom took that upstairs. She also moved the loose wool, but she left several baskets of yarn, which Cimorene has enjoyed tying in knots.

My mom is a country-style decorator, using things like frilly gathered curtains (which she made, of course), quilts, and those baskets of yarn that I mentioned. Supervising it all are the bears. This happens to be one of Cimorene's favorite parts about my parents' house. There are teddy bears everywhere.

My mom has collected Boyds Bears for as long as I can remember; she always gets one from my dad for Christmas, and sometimes she gets them for other occasions as well. There are bears on the mantle dressed in overcoats and mufflers. There are bears in little summer dresses. There's one next to me now with tweed pants, a tan, chenille sweater, and a black bow-tie. There are bears on the bookshelf, bears on top of the entertainment center, bears on the piano. There are bears in baskets, bears on corner shelves, windowsills, and even one upstairs in a bathrobe. Including her little Boyds figurines, I'm counting 57 in the living room alone.

It's not all country-style, however. The corner shelf is filled with bears on the bottom, but the top shelf is full of asian items, and a Taiwanese painted umbrella hangs from the ceiling above. Somehow, despite these things being completely different, they still seem to fit together.

It's not just the house that reminds me of The Burrow, though; it's the feeling. Joyful chaos. My mom tries really hard to keep everything clean and organized, but somehow between all of us kids (Nate, Neil and I are all home right now, and, of course, Cimorene, who makes more trouble than the rest of us combined) things just stay a little... well, exciting. Heh heh.

Poor mom.

I love it, though. It feels like home to me. As much as I would love my own home to be spotless all the time, it's a good reminder that I don't always feel comfortable in a perfectly decorated, perfectly spotless house.

Like my mother, I will probably always stress about how disorganized I am, or how crazy my house is. But I will also throw awesome parties where I make Chinese food or indestructible pinatas, and I will pick gallons of raspberries from the bushes in my backyard, and I will run my kids to all their activities, and I'll have a homemade windowseat in my bedroom where I can sit and read.

Being here is a good reminder for me of what I really want my home to be like. It doesn't have to be spotless. It just has to be a home. A little joyful chaos is what made Harry Potter fans fall in love with the Weasley's home. It's what will make my children love mine.