Cannonball

I am listening to Pandora, and Damien Rice's "Cannonball" just came on. This is one of those songs that instantly transports me back in time, fills me with emotion, and reminds me of the life I have lived. For some reason I felt compelled to write...maybe because I have had a bad day, maybe because I am too sick and tired to do anything else, maybe because I am alone and wish I was not.

This song reminds me of a very painful time...but also a time that helped define who I am today. It was almost exactly nine years ago. I was romantically involved with three different relationships at the time - that sounds completely promiscuous- but really it was not...it was just the way things unfolded that fall.  Those three men each left a dent in me...one of them often appears in my dreams still to this day, despite the fact that I have not seen him in eight years.  I have no idea why.

Storms taught me to fly
Love taught me to lie
Life taught me to die
So it's not hard to fall
when you float like a cannonball

It is amazing how powerfully those words relate to my life.  And also amazing how far I have come in my ability to live and love, despite how often I have fallen down.  Since moving to Utah, I often feel like Alice, lost in a wonderland, because I am living in this land where I am actually happy, I actually feel peaceful and calm, and where the world does not seem to be falling down around me anymore.  But this kind of world is so unfamiliar and strange to me that I feel slightly out of place and not quite sure whether it is all real or just make-believe.  I often wonder when I will have to make the trip back up the rabbit-hole and go back to where I came from.  This song reminds me of that place - the place I came from.

I actually miss that place every now and then.  Maybe that's a side effect of living with depression, or maybe it's just normal.  I miss Prescott.  I miss crying over Oreos and milk with Nathan.  I miss the feeling of first love, first kisses, dark secrets.  Most of my past is painful...so why do I actually miss some of it?  Because it made me who I am.  Even if bad choices were made, people were hurt, tears were shed, scars were inflicted, and words were said that can never be taken back...it all somehow got me here.  Those experiences are what make me love so fiercely and make me so intensely grateful for what I have.  I have been given experiences, people, and moments that I do not even feel worthy of.  When I think back at how far I have come, and what I have lived through in the process, I stand in awe of the ways God has allowed me to grow and become more of the woman I want to be.

Am I still the girl I was back then, when I used to listen to this song on repeat in my bedroom while writing page after page in my journal about love, pain, depression, sex, and mourning?  Perhaps.  There are still parts of her inside me that I think will always remain, and that comforts me.  I need her every now and then, to remind me of my mistakes, my fearlessness, my passion.  But I am also comforted by the fact that I have finally, finally found a way to move past that life and embrace peace in a way I never thought possible.  I may float like a cannonball, but luckily I somehow landed in a better place.

Star Wars and Space Ships

After living here for more than 4 months, I have finally finished Ryan Bug's "Space Room."  :)

Although I did most of the decorating for his room a few months ago, the room was not yet "finished" in my opinion, as I was waiting to find out if the baby was a boy or girl (if it had been a boy, I would have rearranged things so they would have shared a bedroom and the third room would have become a play room...but with Baby K being a girl, she gets her own room).  So the finalization of Ryan's room took part this weekend in what I like to call "Nesting, Phase Two."  (Did you miss Phase One?)

Phase Two came in part because I finally reached my breaking point regarding Ryan's toy storage situation (and the fact that most of his bigger toys have been simply thrown in his closet or under his bed for four months).

It also came in part because Pete's parents graciously offered to buy us the crib and wardrobe cabinet we wanted for Baby Bean, and with the order scheduled for delivery any day now, we desperately needed to clean out the third bedroom to make room for the new arrivals.  I wish we would have taken a photo of the room before hand...but the best I can do is describe it as a teeny tiny room filled wall to wall with boxes, a giant firetruck, miscellaneous baby gear and tons of random crap we have been to lazy to do anything with since we moved in.

So we had two problems: 1) a room stuffed with stuff; and 2) another room filled with too many toys and nowhere to keep them.

The solution ended up being a result of my crazy new-couch fiasco a few weeks ago, as we were left with a big bookshelf that no longer fit downstairs and has since been taking up space in the third bedroom. So we decided to put the bookshelf in Ryan's closet, buy toy bins for the shelves, relocate his previous toy "drawers" to the baby's closet, and then clean out the rest of the room.

The relocation of toys took three long hours of work as all three of us weeded through piles of toys and sorted everything in the new bins.  It was exhausting, but worth it in the end.  I was able to clean off the bookshelf in his room and make it look more organized, and then I finished off the project by sewing curtains for the bottom of his loft bed, stringing up some lights, and creating a little hideaway space for the little man.

And so it is done.  After almost three years of the firetruck theme, we have finally moved up to a more "big boy" room, a combination of space and Star Wars and little touches of giraffes (Ryan's favorite animal).  Take a look...

View from the doorway, complete with Bug's handmade paper mache rocket.

A bookshelf that actually has room for books, what a concept!

Ikea bed and Momma-made curtains

Hideaway Spot and the Camera Ham

Fun details

Not sure why I have two views of the bookshelf, but whatever.

The wonderful amazing closet solution! Look at that organization.
Also topped with all of Daddy's license plates that Ryan refused to part with.

Okay, I just love this picture.

And of course he needed to pose with some (yes, only some) of his giraffes.  So much cuteness.

So the toys are organized, the bookshelf is out of the way, the third bedroom has been emptied into the attic, and now we just get to wait for delivery of the crib and wardrobe so we can move on to Phase Three. Oh yes, I am excited. And so, so tired.  :)

Delicious Autumn

"Delicious autumn! 

My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird 

I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns." 

-George Eliot

A couple mornings ago I opened the front door to take Ryan to the bus stop, and as we stepped outside and saw the fallen leaves sprinkling the front lawn he exclaimed,  "Mom, Fall has come!"

It is now officially my favorite time of the year.  I have always loved the Fall more than any other season, but for the past five years I have lived in a place where it did not really exist.  Sure I would still feel joy in my heart to see Halloween decorations in stores and batches of pumpkins in the Trader Joe's parking lot...but that's about the only signs of Fall I got to experience in the valley of death (aka Phoenix).  It just didn't ever feel like fall when I was still dressing Ryan in shorts and flip flops to pick out his annual pumpkin.  Every year I would long for my hometown of Prescott, and would even travel up there every Halloween to experience the real smell of leaves and pumpkins and the fabulous spirit of Halloween.

And now, I finally get to live in a paradise of Autumn, where the temperature drops (!!!), the leaves turn colors, and pumpkins and corn actually grow on the side of the road.  It is fabulous.

Nathan and Angela drove us up around the Alpine Loop last weekend. It was beautiful (despite poor Pete getting car sick and losing his iPhone on the side of the road).

In other news, I am now 21 weeks pregnant and the magic of Autumn has also seemed to bring about a magical upswing in my NVP.  The past couple weeks have produced many more good days than bad days, and even the bad days do not seem to last all day anymore.  I have even manged to go a few days here and there without Zofran at all...although it seems like when I do, I pay for it the next day and end up huddled over my peppermint oil trying not to throw up.  But even then the sickness passes within a few hours or is relieved by taking a nap, and that is pretty awesome progress.  I have managed to keep the migraines under control (for the most part) with high doses of caffeine, and I have finally gained a few pounds thanks to my increased appetite (and breakfast dates with my love while Ryan is at school).  I think it is safe to say that I am no longer suffering from HG, and I have hope that the rest of the pregnancy will be much easier to get through.

On the downside, my back hurts like hell most of the time, my hips are expanding and sometimes ache so bad that I can't stand up straight, and I have never been more tired in my life. I get winded going up stairs and my ability to get through the day without a nap is very low.  I am determined to start going to the gym again so I can try to tone up my arms and butt, and I would love to take walks everyday in the cool Fall air...but I have yet to find the energy to do either one.  Bleh. 

Things that I love right now:

* Ryan loves school and loves to do his homework. He is so incredibly smart, it blows me away sometimes. I teared up the first time he recited the Pledge of Allegiance.

* Spending the mornings alone with my wonderful husband.

* Shopping for baby girl clothes. 

* Pete playing Tim McGraw's "My Little Girl" on his phone on top of my belly, and Ryan bringing me a jar of baby food in bed, insisting that I eat it so that his baby sister does not starve.

* Being cold enough to wear sweatshirts, even though none of them fit me.

* Chips and salsa.

* I am finally making friends with other moms in the neighborhood, and hanging out with them is way better than staying home and doing anything productive.

* The new season of Modern Family starts tonight, and Gloria is pregnant. :)

* My Halloween decorations are up and it makes me oh so happy.

Now it just needs to get a little bit colder so I can drink hot apple cider and get Pete to make me some butternut squash soup, and I just may be happier than I have been in a very, very, very long time.

20 Weeks: My Baby Girl's First Gift

My Dearest Daughter,

I am now 20 weeks pregnant as your tiny little body is rapidly growing inside of me.  Yesterday, your father and I got to see you via ultrasound, and we were finally able to confirm what we both already knew - that you are in fact a little girl.

A girl.

I wish I could explain to you how emotional I get when I see those words.  You are my daughter.  I have been waiting for you...because I knew you would come.  I have known it for about 12 years...all because of a yellow blanket with apples on it.

Darling Baby "K", this blanket was your very first baby gift.  It was handmade by my mother, your Grandma Raelene, in the year 2000, one year before she passed away.  When mom was diagnosed with terminal cancer, she began a project to sew baby blankets for her future grandchildren to have after she was gone.  She randomly chose various fabrics of blues and pinks and made about ten blankets to be claimed by whomever wished.  But there was one - this bright yellow and bold red blanket covered in apples - that was made specifically for you.  Mom took me to the store one day and told me to pick out a fabric for my baby girl.  I chose the apples, for some reason I no longer remember, and sometime in the middle of the night, this blanket was made.  I was only 14 years old, and was surrounded by brothers and nephews.  Girls were few and far between in our family.  But Mom somehow knew that you would exist one day, and out of all the blankets she made, this was the only one reserved - for her daughter's daughter.

There are not many women on my side of the family.  My mother and both grandmothers have passed away.  I had no aunts related by blood, and the only one related by marriage also passed away many years ago.  I have no sisters.  My older brothers have given you four female cousins - but they are outweighed by eight male cousins.  It would have been easy to assume that the idea of me having a daughter was far-fetched.  But I have always known you would come, and apparently your grandmother knew you would come.  And in a few short months, you will be here to join the incredible family that is waiting for you.

I don't know what you will look like, what color hair or eyes you will have, or what your personality will be like.  But I know you.  I know your name (and have for many years), I know your strength, and I know you will be loved more than you can imagine.  Your older brother also knows you, and has been telling us you were a girl before I even became pregnant.  He prays for you every night, kisses my belly, and tells you he loves you.  Your daddy smiles every time he says your name, and he is counting down the days until you can grasp his finger with your tiny hand.  You are the final step for our little family, and we cannot wait to meet you.

We are halfway there - you have 20 more weeks to stay cozy and snug inside of me before you must face the harsh Utah winter.  So enjoy your stay, and know that there is a soft yellow blanket with apples waiting to keep you warm.

Love,
Mom

September 11th

At some point in time, "Never forget" became the official motto of remembering the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001.  I cannot even count how many times I see those words appear on my Facebook news feed each year on this date.  I must admit...those words seem a little absurd to me.  As an American, who was over the age of 10 at the time, I do not know how it could even be possible to ever forget what happened that day.  Seriously, I do not need people on my Facebook feed reminding me not to forget.  I will never forget - and I don't know a single person who would - even if no one ever said a word about it.

I was only fifteen years old on that day, and I was very lost at the time, as I was crawling through the abyss of mourning my mother's death only three weeks earlier.  Did I completely understand what was happening?   Absolutely not.  Despite the fact that I was generally pretty mature for my age, I was still not quite mature enough to fully comprehend the implications or devastation brought on by the attacks.  But I still watched in horror, I still held my breath, I still shed tears, I still feared, and I still mourned right along with my fellow Americans.

I'm sure that everyone has their own story of how it effected them - whether they lost loved ones that day or, like me, were 3000 miles away and did not personally know a soul in New York City.  I remember being scared to death that there would be a war, and that my brother Nathan would have to go fight in it.  He was all I had left at that time, he was my only caretaker, and he was my best friend - and I knew that he would fight, whether he was forced to by some kind of draft or not.  I remember coming home from school that day to an empty house (as Nathan was working), and I walked to Mom's room, I lied down on her bed, and I cried - not really because of the attacks, but because I had no one at home to assure me it would all be okay.

Just as I knew he would, Nathan did go fight that war.  Twice.  And how blessed we are, because he came home both times.  Others were not as lucky, and those who lost loved ones on September 11th were not as lucky either.  My heart cries for all of them, and swells with gratitude that my brother made it home alive.

I do not need anyone to tell me "Never forget."  It will all be etched in my memory forever.  The sight of the towers falling. The images of the streets of New York I saw on TV.  The red, white and blue of flags flying everywhere.  The way I fought back tears for weeks while singing the National Anthem in choir shows.  The nervous breakdown I had in the car after I told my brother goodbye when he first left for Iraq.  The shock and awe I felt at the National History Museum in Washington DC when I stood next to the enormous smoked-stained flag that was hung over the Pentagon the day after the attacks.  The silence that surrounded Ground Zero when I visited it in 2004.  No, I don't think any of those memories are ever going to fade away.  So I guess everyone can keep going on saying "Never Forget" year after year, if it helps them remember, grieve, mourn, process, or simply feel a sense of solidarity.  But I am an American, and September 11th will be in my heart forever, even if those words were never uttered again.

And so it begins...

I think I read somewhere that pregnant women don't usually begin "nesting" until the third trimester. I think they are wrong. Or, I am just crazy....which is probably more likely.  Either way, I'm pretty sure I have begun nesting already, and I am only 18 weeks along.  I did not start the nesting phase with Ryan until I was about 8 months pregnant...but then again, I was pretty much bed-ridden until about then as well, so who's to say I wouldn't have started sooner if given the chance.  I got his nursery put together and perfectly decorated in record time (not including the 10 million stores I went to searching for a rug that was the exact perfect shade of blue).  Then I spent a couple weeks meticulously dusting and disinfecting every crevice of his crib, furniture, toys, carpet, etc.  I have a very vivid memory of pre-washing all of his clothes and blankets one night, then writing his initials or name on every single tag in permanent marker (even though he did not even have a single relative nearby to visit or any plans for daycare...so where did I think those blankets would get lost at??)  From as much as I can remember of it, that month was pretty intense...but damn that boy had a marvelously clean room when he finally decided to grace us with his presence (two weeks past his due date).

This time around I seem to have started early...and it began with our couch.  We were very low on money when when moved here in May, so we bought a used couch from KSL classifieds.  It had the perfect look for what I wanted...but it was not very comfortable, and the padding in the seat cushions was very well worn-in.  With how much time I have spent sick on the couch during this pregnancy, I finally had enough of the uncomfortable thing and told Pete that we HAD to buy a new one soon.  But it couldn't be as simple as just replacing the couch - we had to get a bigger couch.  Why? 

Me: "Because we will need room for the baby swing in January or February, and the only place to put the swing in our living room is where the white chair is, but if we get rid of the white chair, there will never be enough places for people to sit when we have company, but our living room is too small to fit a couch and a loveseat, so we have to get rid of the white chair and buy a sectional couch."

Pete: "...Okay."

(How my husband loves me despite my insanity is beyond me.)

Then last week, Pete got a bigger paycheck than usual, and I happened to see that a local furniture outlet had a perfect sized sectional on sale for Labor Day weekend.  After moving some things around in our budget, we visited the store three different times (because I could not decide which color I wanted) and eventually bought the couch.  Then we sold our old couch and coffee table on KSL to recoup some of the cost.  However, the new couch won't be delivered until Friday....so in the meantime, we are sitting on lawn chairs.

So classy.

I must have forgotten to mention the part where I spent a good two hours last night obsessing over how we would actually fit the new couch into our poorly-designed living room while still having space for the baby swing come January.  I made Pete actually bring the swing downstairs so that I could see it in every possible space, while using the lawn chairs and cardboard boxes to simulate the dimensions of the couch.  Oh yeah, there's also the part where getting a bigger couch required us to move the TV, which required us to move two bookshelves and even buy a new one of a different size...and I won't even mention how that somehow led to us almost needing to replace the nightstands in our bedroom.  *Holy hell, I have already crossed over to the crazy place and I haven't even started the nursery yet.*

I wonder what the next five months will be like...