Food "speaks" to me...

I met Nathan in January 1997. My first impression was that he was kind of a jerk. He was the 'new' guy in the apartment complex where some of my good friends lived, and when I was visiting them after returning from Christmas vacation, in breezed Nate. Honestly, I don't remember much else about him from that first encounter other than I wasn't that impressed. He didn't seem interested in meeting ME either. 

It was a few days until we saw each other again. In fact, I wasn't paying a lot of attention at all. I'd already proclaimed, very loud and clear, that "I would not be one of those girls who married the first boy she dated", something I loathed about the reputation of the church college I was attending. 

The next week I needed groceries(I told you....) so I hitched a ride with Eric...MY friend, and Nate's roommate. On the car ride home Eric worked to convince me to go on a date with Nathan. I agreed to go that Saturday...

Saturday was a little over committed :) My roommates and I were heading to a nearby town to visit one of my roomie's family. It wasn't my fault that we were FOUR hours late for my date...when I finally showed up I did feel a little bad, but that only lasted a few minutes. They'd rented a movie to watch...Schindler's List. Really? for a date? 

I stayed about 10 minutes. 

I realize now that I am incredibly blessed that he followed me. We sat under the stairs of my apartment complex, propped up on the bike racks...and talked for hours. HOURS. And from that night we were pretty much inseparable. 

I tried to dig through the garage this morning to find his journal so I could PROVE this story...but, alas...no luck. Take my word for it.

Nathan was obsessive about his studies. Me, not so much. He studied non-stop. As finals were approaching that semester, which was probably only 6 weeks after we started dating(and we'd already talked marriage) he was seriously blowing me off. To 'study'. Bleh. One night I went to the little cheapie Chinese restaurant there in town that catered to the masses of poor college kids and picked up two 'Number 4' meals. I thought perhaps he'd pay some attention to me if I brought food, and it worked! He gave me about a half an hour of attention before I could tell he was getting anxious to get back to his test preparation. Before we threw the garbage out, we decided to open our fortune cookies...I have no clue what mine said. It must have been entirely ordinary. Nate's however, was PERFECT. 

Stop searching for happiness. It is in front of you. 

Last month I was cruising through my list of errands in Great Falls, kids in tow. We argued over which nasty fast food place would be better...and I made the executive decision: Taco Bell. After we'd finished up, and I was cleaning our table off, I grabbed one of the packets of hot sauce the kids had played with. There was some bold, scroll writing on it that grabbed my attention. 

You have chosen wisely. 

My mind instantly went back to that fortune cookie. And while the conclusion you might reach from this random tale of coincidence is that perhaps I should stop eating out so much(you're right...I should)...I smiled. Grateful for the 17 years that have been mine.

Today marks the day I chose to marry Nate. I thought I was 'giving myself' to him. My perspective has shifted so much that it doesn't even resemble my 19 year old self. Today marks that day that I struck it rich. Rich in ways that aren't countable to the outside eye...rich in ways that I am forever thankful for. 

Nathan Pitcher is the most unromantic person you'll ever meet. He doesn't EVER plan for things to win me over. He pretty much stinks at buying presents. He hates to snuggle and can't take my feet touching him in bed. And, unless I'm watching some sappy love movie, I'm coming to terms with that :) Because other than these flaws....he'almost perfect. He is good. Honest. Constant. Dedicated. Hard working. Faithful. God loving. 

Mine.

So happy this man has given 17 years to me. Today I think that I will let my food remind me of one of God's greatest blessings in my life:  Stop searching for happiness. It is in front of you. You have chosen wisely.

Grateful he was mine to chose. 

Its time...

I don't know if my husband will agree with me, but I think its time. The only reason I think its okay to do this without his permission is that it was my heart we were protecting from the start.

Just over two years ago we began something that has indescribably, indefinitely changed us. And for the sake of this particular 'blog'...I am just going to speak first person, though I'm sure my sweet husband's emotions mirror so many of my own.
My heart is weary and tired of hanging onto the hurt of this trial. Part of this heartache I don't get the luxury of letting go of: its not mine to undo. But hopefully, this entry into my 'journal' will allow me the freedom to get rid of the ugliness that I've allowed to linger...to fester, and color my outlook on life.
So many times I've stood to bear my testimony in church and I can only control my emotions so long...and I ramble...and I never really get to say what's in my heart. So, here goes:
When I say the past two years have been hard, its largely an understatement. Believe me when I say that I am not a baby...I do not focus on only the negative. I have fought  to see with grateful eyes...and thankfully, and mercifully, I DO! I am blessed. I am loved. And, I love...so many things, so many people.
But, like I've said a thousand times...I don't understand. But this statement is probably something you don't understand...because I don't use it to encourage sympathy. I don't use it to explain my heartache...solely. I really don't understand. But, I am so thankful for the tender mercies that have given me glimpses...
When Nate and I began the process of adopting our Dasha from Russia over 2 years ago...I was terrified. Mostly, about the money. How in the world would we do it? Well, everyone I'd met in our place was fundraising. It was uncomfortable, but I could lose my pride and do it...right?
Oh, and my favorite, "don't you realize you have five kids already?"
I don't understand it. We entered a journey that terrified us. And suddenly, voices who'd had NO authority to plan our family size with the addition of previous children suddenly felt powerful and entitled. And I was devastated. Betrayed. But, determined to bring home this little girl. My mother begged me to tell the story. That 'they'd understand'...I've come to know they never will. And, I've got to forgive them their ignorance. Because hopefully by recording this, I can finally move on...forgive. Be forgiven.
Nate and I fasted and prayed. We went to the temple. I cannot tell you how many times we prayed about this. And...how the absolute confirmation that we were to pursue adoption of this child was undeniable. How else could we keep going? Every decision...minus those trivial ones like, black sweats or blue sweats?....we try to base on prayer. And faith. And we aren't perfect. But we're trying to do what's right...
But I don't understand...I never will. How did we stumble on a child that LOOKED like she was ours? And why is the pride and evilness of one man able to keep her from the blessings of an eternal family the happiness of normal everyday life in a home? That is something I will never reconcile in my heart. But with faith, I know through examples in the scriptures, that sometimes the choices of others cause suffering for those around them. This is my Dasha's fate.
I love this little chicka. I pray for her every night...that she'll remember our hugs and kisses. Remember being held. And wanted.
And I put my faith in God that he'll cover the rest.

But for the months after the ban on our adoption, I was done. No more. Never again....right? Wrong. Because truth was, Nate and I now craved the love and change that would come by expanding our family through adoption. And, we also knew something else...one silver lining in the sadness of our failed adoption. We knew this child would be down syndrome. And while I pleaded with God for understanding as to why we had been led to Dasha, on how we could be led down this path to only have to face such sadness...I didn't think I'd ever make sense of it.
I haven't, completely. But there is a tiny sliver of knowledge that has become such a comfort to me. One night I was crying to my bestie and she pointed out that perhaps the reason we were led to Dasha...was that another child needed us and that without falling in love with a child who fit so seamlessly...who looked like mine, and stole my heart so quickly...we'd have never considered adopting a special needs child. And she is right. So, so right.
So, we started over. We prayed. We knew. We acted.
I've let my hurt feelings and broken heart steal the joy that comes from this announcement. But...its time.
And I'm praying that sharing this openly allows my heart to heal in some way. Because we are WICKED excited...

You can find out a little about him on Reece's Rainbow...we did. But you don't get to bring him home...cause WE ARE. We better have him home in a few months! We had to start at square one...and I think we've dealt with every stupid person available in the process. But we've also had lots of help, and some of my adoption friends have a place in my heart that no one else will ever have. They've walked in my shoes! We are trudging along...he's worth it :)

My Mom

I expected to be able to sleep a very drug-induced slumber tonight. But Landri's tummy has been acting up all day, and I knew a little fun was coming. I snuggled her into bed, only to hear her whine a little later. I don't feel spectacular, so I was in bed too :) I got up to find a very groggy Lu at the top of the stairs. Nate was in the kitchen so he jumped up, kinda chuckling, and volunteered to take her to bed. He picked her up and she buried her head into his neck...and stinking puked all over him. I seriously doubled over I was laughing so hard. He just stood still and took it like a champ....because she really cleaned little tummy out on him!

I don't know if it was the hysterical fit of laughter, or the cleaning up process...but I'm stinking wide awake. So...what to do? Why not tell the world how much I love my momma.....

I love this woman for so many reasons.  She is kind. My mother would give you anything you asked for...and if she noticed a need she happily fills it without being asked! I can't think of how many kids my mom has tutored after school, not for pay...but because she was confident she could help them be successful where others had failed. I've seen her take on children at school/church that would make anyone a bit crazy...but she does it happily. And she genuinely loves it. She wants to help people: almost to a FLAW! So many times I find myself saying 'mom, you're enabling' or 'that isn't necessary'...but she does it because she knows its right. Over the years she has had alot of needy kids in her classes at school. She is always rummaging through our hand me downs...or asking ME to clean the drawers out, because someone needs something warm, something 'cool'...something. She is kind.
My mom is loyal. This doesn't mean that she buys into whatever you're selling just 'cause she loves you. Nope...its the real deal. She fights for what she knows is best for you, even if you don't know its best. She accepts struggle and heartache in our behalf, and prays harder. I don't know very many times I've ever heard my mom voice a  dislike of anyone...but I've watched her serve people tirelessly because they w ere friends of the family...this is a woman you need on your side.
My mom is a NUT. Seriously....we have a list of stories to tell at her funeral. She is ridiculously smart...book smart. But sometimes the things that come out of her mouth have you dropping yours in shock. Did she really just say that? Can she be that....blonde?
Ex: She has convinced the kids in her schoolroom for YEARS that she eats carrots to keep her hair really black. So when the greys are more than the dark...and she dyes it...and the kids notice...they say, "wow Mrs. Schenk you must have ate some carrots last night!" (hang with me...you will see where I say she's  a ding dong :) ) Well one day we were in the car and she made some random crazy statement and Kenna said, "Grandma, I think underneath that dye job you're really.....blonde" to which my mom replied instantly...seriously...and half panicked....' WHY?! Do I need to dye my hair again?' She totally missed the fact that Kenna was making fun of her, which made Kenna laugh all the harder.
This week Jon and I were talking about some kid in track...high school.... it who dang near gets lapped in the 100. And he just keeps at it, losing badly. We are a bit miffed by this, because our pride couldn't handle it. Props to this kid. But Jon said kind of off-offhandedly..."maybe the kid should try a new race....like long jump" Mom, dear, dear mom....
She looked at Jon seriously and kind of like he was slipping and said, "Jon, the long jump isn't a race." Whooofta. Glad she cleared that up. We all busted out laughing, and had to explain it.
My mom is the world's best grandma. She's the replica of MY grandma...her mom. You know where her paycheck goes? The Store. It buys countless malts, York mints...Mike and Ike's...hot chocolate and diet pop. And gas. Because she comes in and out of town at every grandchild's pleasure and whim. Devotion.

And I wouldn't have it any other way. My children adore this woman. She knows them intimately. What they're good at. What they struggle at. When the need some encouragement from someone other than mom...its her. They have no doubts at all that this woman loves them. And its why they seek her out. "Come drive with me." "Why hasn't she been her tonight?"

She has their hearts.

I love my mom because the last few years have been ROUGH. And, its just occurring to me as I write this...that perhaps this has been the silver lining in a few of my rain clouds. I have NEEDED my mom close so many times. She has scrubbed my toilets, made me soup(not in that order) cuddled me in bed, cried with me, shared her book of favorite quotes, been my confidant, my cheerleader...and dear dear DEAREST friend.

But I cannot pay tribute without mentioning what I admire most about my mother...and its kind of personal.Deeply. But my mother is my modern day pioneer. She is the truest example of faith and sacrifice. My mom's family is very devoutly religious. And I will forever be grateful for that. I knew from the time I was little that my grandparents were God loving people. Good people. Some of the best He's ever made! But my mother converted to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints when she married my dad. Not BECAUSE she married my dad: my mom won't do anything she doesn't believe is right...remember? And this choice has proved very hard. Because there is a sadness with her family, even to this day...over her conversion to our faith. And....I LOVE THEM FOR IT. It proves  THEIR devotion to her...and their faith. But...my mom truly converted. She has never looked back. She has done things alone because of this choice. There have been many struggles that she faced alone because of it. But I never heard her question God. Her faith is amazing. I hope that my children will one day appreciate the legacy of faith that started with she and my father. Because it is one of my dearest treasures...

And...finally...I love her because she is my mom. Some kids aren't so lucky. You probably weren't so lucky. Because while I'm sure you're arguing in your head that your mom is meeting the standard...she isn't. There's no way. Heavenly Father truly made one of a kind.
If you aren't of my faith, some of awesomeness of this song might be lost on you because the lyrics are from so many of the songs we learned as children...taken and woven together in a beautiful tribute. Its become one of my all time favorites...can't listen to it without crying.
Mom's who truly deserve devotion and praise for a job well done...don't NEED it. They have the adoration of their kids/grandkids to speak to a job well done...
So happy Mother's Day to my mom! I love you Neicy!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mr8CGydPB5g

I am so super not sure why that won't post as a link...copy and paste it...its worth your effort :)

Listen...

I have to get these words out of my head. Because I've argued with myself so long over them that they are making me crazy. But the truth of it is this:

I should have listened. And acted. 

I firmly believe that if I'd been quicker to do as I was prompted...she'd be here now. She'd have made it out. She'd have a family who would treasure her.

Instead, she's forever stuck in a dumpy, stinky crap hole with no family. She shares clothes, pajamas, tights and everything else with any child that fits them. She gets her head bopped with a brush when she isn't sitting still to get her beautiful(hopefully still long) hair combed. 

And dang it...I can't wrap my head or heart around it.

Will I one day be able to apologize to this sweet child that I failed her? That I put off what I should have done? That its my fault for not listening....

Bleh. Today is one of those days where my heart just hurts...

My dad is SO much better than yours....

I love my dad...for lots of reasons. Not just cause he bails me out. But, he seriously does bail me out!

Sunday night I was basically giddy excited that I had two work days left until the end of tax season. This year  had a little bit of an exciting start for me...and with all the check ups for my toe and hip, and the occasional sick kid...there were times I felt like I really let my employer down.

But I'd made it! 2 days. 16 hours.

And at a bout 3:30 am Monday morning I heard the sound NO mom EVER wants to hear. The sound of puke hitting the floor.

Seriously, so close! Normally I love to be the ones to stay with sick kids...but, like I said, its been a fun year. So I called in a favor to my dad. Would you keep my puking kiddo? And since you have him, can you keep Landri too?

I went to work and called for updates about once an hour. About 1 o'clock I got the call from  school no mom wants to hear: Kolbe tripped, they think he's broke his arm.

Its busy season at Nate's work...he's slammed...and short handed. So I called him and he took Kolbe to the local docs, who needed x-rays...in Choteau. Nate could do it, but I could see it made it difficult for him.

"Dad, how much do you really love me today?" He sighed..."What now?" He laughed when I told him.

Dad left Eli resting on the couch...and hauled Lu to Choteau to bring Kolbe for x-rays. I met them there...then sent them back home. Lu fell asleep in dad's car.

When he returned Lu to me later that night she was sporting his shirt (which she hasn't taken off-super cute). I asked why and she just blurted out, "oh, Papa let me sleep in his car and I peed on his seat."

Yikes. I think I may owe him a bit for that day's service. He can add it to my tab :)

I do love him...and I'm happy to report yesterday, the last day of tax season, was utterly boring!

Eeek

Apparently I am not a smart woman. The old adage that hindsight is better than foresight proves absolutely true with me...the problem is, you'd think I'd be able to predict a few things a little better! Experience should start to weigh in and raise little red flags.
But, nope.
I am left to my stupidity time and time again :)
My children have been in need of a few procedures for a while now. And, they've been postponed repeatedly due to my own issues and insurance issues, and work...I scheduled them for the first free day. April 16th. And I scheduled them TOGETHER...because that's what smart parents do!
Go ahead and insert sarcasm.
They squished Nate, Eli, myself and Lu into a room the size of a glorified bathroom. It was 1000 degrees in there, and things were late...so we tried to calm 2 children who were starving, thirsty and wound up with anxiety. The nurse brought in Landri's syringe of versaid (sp?) and I asked if it was for me....
Landri swallowed her sedative and we waited, and waited...for it to kick in. After 15 minutes the nurse popped her head in and was perplexed to see her still chattering away. We were amazed that in the few seconds it took to answer the last of her questions, Landri popped her hip out to the side, dropping her shoulder down and her head swung down. She looked over at me and I snagged her up...laughing, I asked if she was tired. Her speech got a little slurry, as I laid her down on the bed she drug out...'whhhhhhy yoouuuuuuu laaaaay meeeeee?????' And then she just went limp, very drugged. Amazing stuff, it is. She was blowing kisses as they wheeled her out...well, she was trying. It took a little longer to make the connection from one movement to the next. She would have never left that room of her own free will had she not been totally drugged!
The same doctor performed both procedures...so Eli chilled with us in the same tiny room while we waited for Landri.
I heard a child screaming. But it didn't sound like mine so I tried to ignore it...after like 10 minutes I asked a passing nurse when my Lu would be coming out...wanting to be there when she wakes up. I'd done this before...it is scary when they come to. The nurse looked at me, and informed me the distraught baby WAS mine. That pretty much unhinged me. I basically demanded they give her to me. I think they were very relieved at this, because the nurse struggled to bring me a half naked, thrashing, screaming beast that was very very VERY difficult to contain. I wrestled her for an hour. And Nate helped. We struggled to keep her free hand away from her IV line, and as she crocodile-wrestled in circles, we worked to free her from the tangled cords...Our tiny sweatbox was a torture cell.
After probably an hour, she proceded to rip her IV line out, causing blood to go everywhere. Nate and the old nurse worked to stop the bleeding while I pinned her kicking feet. She was totally out of it still...and in between the craziness Nate and I would meet eyes and bust out laughing. A child possessed!
Poor baby was miserable and scared. She threatened to 'puke up'...her version of 'throw up'...thankfully she didn't. The nurses kept peeking in, the worry becoming evident that her tonsils could bust open if she didn't settle soon.
Oh, and Eli was out of surgery now. So, the panic that he'd wake up like this was starting to settle in...
The nurse said he was darling...that he told her all about his siblings and was talking when they put the mask on him. That was what he'd dreaded...he remembers it from his last surgery. He begged me last night not to let them put on that scary mask. When it went on today, apparently big tears welled up in his eyes. There are some things I'm grateful not to watch.
Landri was just settling when they wheeled Eli into the room next to ours...I told Lu it was time to be big because Eli was scared and waking up and needed me too...and she snuggled her head to me and quieted down.
We sat beside Eli's bed as he very sleepily pried his eyes open. Anesthesia makes this child weepy...and the lip instantly dropped out, and the tears welled. He was emotional for a bit, trying to reign it in, but not able to totally stop the few tears that would roll down his cheeks.
We'd been trying for well over an hour now to cajole Lu into drinking...but as Eli started chugging juice her resolve to do it too strengthened. She isn't totally aware that they didn't have the exact procedures done...so hopefully that  works in my favor! After convincing her to take her pain meds(don't know why they don't get them while sedated) she perked up! She drank two juices and polished off a popsicle. She was chatting away.
I took her to the bathroom and asked if we could wash the blood off her arm. She scrunched her face while inspecting her bruised, bloody hand and asked, "who put that there?" Oh, only you.
I washed her hand, then asked if I could wash her toes. She looked down at her little chubby feet, also covered in dried blood. "That's disgusting!"
I love that even while feeling like junk...she's got her little spunky 'tude....
Its amazing what a little pain medicine can do...we've now been home for about 3 hours, redrugged, and while we're a little whiney, we're hunkered down on the couch with the ipad, watching 'Frozen'...
We have eaten 2 small bowls of shells and cheese, and a few bites of her McDonalds cheeseburger. The cool nurse smuggled us 5  of the  cute little juices in the can and we've managed to finish one of those too. If we can trudge through the next few days like this, we'll be okay. But I'm not naive enough to know that missing one dose of meds will have us set back into a crazy spell of complete misery.
I'm happy to report that aside from the few times this afternoon Eli has remembered he's supposed to be hurting, and faked a little dizzy spell or something...he's perked right up!
So, I think maybe we'll make it.
Except...the Easter Bunny hasn't done a darn thing. Poop.

For remembering...

Sometimes I have to blog it just to remember it.
Yesterday I watched Eli at the park with some little kids.He carefully lifted them onto the playground equipment. He 'faked', almost to perfection, to lose as they kicked the ball around with him. There was such happiness in his giggle. Today during our Sacrament meeting, he drew out the grid of dots for which to play the game where we alternate turns, connecting two dots at a time, into lines. We each draw one line, careful so  as not to provide the other person the chance to draw the fourth side of a square. If you complete the square, you mark it with your initials as a point...the person with the most squares wins! It is usually a very easy game with a child...easy to either annihilate them, or manipulate it in their favor. I was trying to pay attention to the speakers, and appease his quiet play...and it proved very difficult. Because HE was trying to help ME win. Finally, when there was nowhere left to go that wouldn't produce a huge domino-effect of squares...he grunted at me and said, 'mom, don't you wanna win me?' It was then that I saw that sweetness in his chocolate eyes again...when he realized we were doing the same thing!
I am SO thankful to see the giant of a man that grows within the tiny walls of his physical body.It gives me perspective in my parenting, usually reminding me to be patient...ask forgiveness...and be better myself. It is my responsibility and great privilege to shape him into a man. And if you're a contemplative person, you will realize the hugeness of this task. Because sadly, I see that most of my children's weaknesses are reflections of my own. And if I haven't mastered it yet, teaching a child to do so seems overwhelming.
There is no greater joy than that of family life. Some days it is so far from what it should be. I love moments like these that prove forward progression!