hide and seek with liver...

i'm a planner by nature.  i plan like its my job.  well, actually, it IS my job.... so i have lots of practice.  i may be a little socially awkward but i can plan like a boss.  when i learned i was going back to work full time with a newly diagnosed autoimmune disease, i went into full blown planning mode because the anxiety levels were high... a terrible combo with an autoimmune disease.  so my coping mechanism was to plan.  knowing i was returning to work while embarking on a personal quest to go into remission, i hunkered down and planned like it was nobody's business.  

i hired someone to clean our house twice a month.

i asked our babysitter/friend/adopted family member to take on some extra household tasks like laundry

i made chore charts for our kids that complimented the housecleaners

i planned menus and prepared/froze food for my AIP journey

i planned to bring my shoes to work and walk during lunch

i planned and prepped meals for tuesdays and thursdays that kjaer could easily make while i did some yoga.

i spent last weekend buying a truckload of meat from the butcher and shopping for produce.   

i have been a flurry of micromanaging and control.  it's helping me feel better.  i'm so much fun to be around.  ask my husband.

so i'm finishing my first week on AIP and let me tell you how NOT prepared i was for three things: coffee replacement, liver, and sauces.

let me explain.

COFEE REPLACEMENT

ever since determining i was going to spend the next 2-3 months doing the autoimmune protocol (AIP), i have been grieving that i would have to go coffee free.  i've always had a thing with coffee... ever since high school when i knocked over a giant mug of coffee in mr. leutkenhaus's class my senior year and the delicious smell of my too-much amaretto creamer wafted through the AP lit room (please don't tell him i blog in all lowercase!).  usually my consumption has hovered around a travel mug of coffee a day.  when whole 30 started for me in jan of 2018 i said goodbye to my sugary creamer (LONG LIVE COFFEEMATE AMARETTO CREAMER) and adopted nutpods.  it was a hard adjustment but a change i sacrificially made for my health.  when covid closed schools down and kjaer and i were alone with our three kids and working, the coffeepot became my security blanket.    i'd pour a warm and tasty mug of coffee and wrap my hands around it as i sat in front of a screen and tried to digest what had become of my job, the state of our schools and our lives.  we brewed pots a day... pots with an s.  around 3 or 4 we'd have our final cup of coffee and switch to decaf.  

to be honest, by now i probably sweat the stuff.

when my naturopath asked how much coffee i drank, i shrugged and tried to pretend i didn't know... knowing full well i couldn't tell her because it was so much i couldn't even keep track myself.  she tapped her coffee mug and said, "i want you to start getting down to one travel mug a day".  i sighed and made a halfhearted promise. 

then the diagnosis came for hashimotos.  while an allopathic treatment of it would just be to take levothyroxin, a more wholistic approach starts with healing the gut (which makes up roughly 70% of your immune system), supporting with herbs/vitamins and drilling down to the root cause with various tests.  (i also still take levothyroxine). this is where my decision to try AIP came in.  ya know, because i like to do things the hard way sometimes... don't ask me why, i don't know.  but i do know that a few times in my life the hard way has had big pay offs.  

so i fretted about the coffee thing.  i thought i had found a good alternative and planned on starting to wean myself down.  last sunday night i happily sat in our living room feeling all sorts of prepared.  i had gotten a crock pot meal ready for monday night, packed my lunch for school, had my n'oatmeal thawing in the fridge for the morning.  then i turned the bag of alternative coffee over i was using (because i had bought a coffee pot for my office at work so i could brew the coffee alternative) and read the ingredients.  there were wonderful things like chicory root and carob.  then there were things like barley (contains gluten) and ramon seeds.... which i still don't know what they are or why they are in teas, but they are definitely not AIP approved. 

this planned girl hadn't even paid attention to her "replacement coffee" because it was made of roots and healthy sh$$ so i figured it was all good.  i googled and googled to find a different replacement in a frenzy but to no avail and finally gave up.  i could not solve that problem at 10 PM that night.

so i had to start my first week of AIP with a cup of coffee (and an AIP compliant creamer... basically coconut milk).  i think i have a plan now... but just so you know... last sunday night threw my game.  i was feeling all sorts of prepared and then i saw a critical misstep on my part.  i've decided to get some caffeinated tea (but i still have to watch those ingredients because who knew that ramon seeds were a necessity in the hot drink world?  not me!). 

by the way... although weaning myself off of caffeine is probably a good choice, AIP doesn't require it.  it requires you to cut coffee because it's from the bean family.  i know.... this surprised me too.  but i can work on reducing my caffeine intake to support my strung out adrenals too... i guess.  sigh.

LIVER

apparently liver/organ meat is the number one recommended thing to incorporate into your diet when you struggle with an autoimmune disease.  and i gotta be honest with you... the thought of eating it makes me gag.  

i'm pretty sure most of you agree with me... it just doesn't sound good.  no one turns to their spouse at night and is like "lets break out the good wine and have LIVER tonight!"  

if you do... mad props to you.

we don't.  when we were in france two years ago kjaer and i were lucky enough to enjoy a couple of verrrryyy fancy dinners.  one inside 58 Tour Eiffel in the eiffel tower and one in annecy at Haute-Savoie in our hotel, Les Tresoms.  both times we were served various forms of liver for one course.  and it was delicious... but again, i have to be honest and say making pâté or foie gras isn't necessarily something i would like to do and have around as a snack with plantain chips.  et toi?

fancy pants dinner in the eiffle tower

there's foie gras somewhere in that beautiful masterpiece!
58 Tour Eiffel 2nd course (of 5) in the eiffel tower

foie gras... delicious AND gorgeous
2nd course (of 7) at Haute-Savoie
in our hotel at Les Trésoms

so when i was in planning mode i learned that you could incorporate 1/4 pound of liver into 1 pound of ground beef and hide it.  i was game.  THIS i could do! i might not be courageous enough to go all out, but i could try sneaky liver.

so i called our butcher, who is used to me an my obnoxious custom meat orders, and asked if they would give me 2 lbs of ground liver.  i was thinking no problem... i'll just cut each pound into fourths, mix it with the ground beef i'm ordering and it'll be ready to go.  the young man helping me told me that, unfortunately, he couldn't grind the liver for me as it was frozen at their store.  

my heart sank... you mean... i have to grind it?  moi?

gross.

he did, however, offer to cut it into 1/4 lb frozen liver chunks for me.  so i could just pull what i need from the freezer.  thank God for small miracles.

soooo... being super prepared and trying to remain on my game i pulled 2 pounds of ground beef out of the freezer and 1/2 pound of liver out of the freezer to thaw in the fridge for our dinner i made on sunday night.  my plan was to serve my family and have plenty of leftovers for breakfast and lunch this week.  

the problem was i failed to research how to grind liver.  i just sort of figured we could use the food processor or the magic bullet and voila!  ground liver!

so sunday afternoon i thought maybe i should look at the best way to do this.  and the first thing i read was DON'T DEFROST YOUR FROZEN LIVER FULLY.

uhhhhhhhh....

it claimed that if the liver was partially frozen, you'd have more success.  it did suggest a food processor so i got ours all set up and pulled out the liver.  have you ever seen a raw liver before?  (gag). i picked it up with the least amount of digits i could manage and shoved it down inside my cuisinart... ready to grind the ever loving crap out of it.  

now i cook a lot... it's one of my passions.  touching raw meat isn't my favorite but i am used to it... although sometimes chicken makes my insides quiver.  liver is like ten times worse than chicken.  its soooooo bloooooodyyyyy.... probably why it's so nutrient dense.  i did my very best not to gag every time i had to touch it or look at a little pool of blood it left on my cutting board.  when i finally got the liver into the little tube thing to shred it (i put both pieces in so i would only have to touch it once) i pressed the pulse button and prayed.

once my eyes were unclenched, i looked at the container and there was about 3 shreds of liver, lots of blood and two lumps of liver resting unscathed on the bottom.  (gag). by now lucy, our dog, was onto the smell of the liver.  she isn't really a terrible beggar.  she came to us uninterested in table food but has now learned mommy will secretly feed her a cut of meat under the table but she has very nice manners about it.  (shhhhhhh!  don't tell!). but she couldn't contain herself.  she was like a beatles groupie... whining and begging with her crookity ear, tail waggin' so hard her booty couldn't contain the sway.  meanwhile, i stood there perplexed.  

i abandoned that bloody mess and walked out to see kjaer in the garage and was like, i don't think i can do this.

he gently encouraged me and back in i went with a new plan... kjaer's beloved magic bullet.  you know... the appliance i teased him about when we were dating but have slowly come to love myself.  using a spatula, i did my best to divert the mess into a new kitchen appliance.  lucy got to lick the spatula, which made her begging worse.  then i tried again.  by the time i was done i basically had liver milk.  (gag).  it was just liquid with a few strands of gristle.  i poured it over the beef and began massaging it into the meat.  grateful to be done, i started browning it for the delicious breakfast hash (which you could make without the liver).  my beloved quartz countertops were a mess of bloody appliances and cutting boards to be washed.  i threw the hand washing ones in the sink and didn't even rinse my cutting board because i was so grossed out i put it straight into the dishwasher.  

sweet people -  I. DIDN'T. EVEN. CARE.  

Later that night kjaer saw my shortcut and took the cutting board out to rinse it.  he didn't want it to stain.  i was like SORRY BUT DON'T YOU CARE THAT I HAD TO PUREE A FREAKING LIVER TONIGHT?!?!  WHAT ABOUT ME?!?!  I HAVE BIG FEELINGS AFTER THAT.

it was still stained after his rinse and a run through the dishwasher.  a permanent badge for my first encounter with liver.

and let's not talk about what happened to the remnants of liver when you wash the appliances.  actually... let's do.  i soaked them and when i went to wash them it looked like they had peanut butter on them.  (gag)

during dinner i kept looking at kjaer.  i feel like he procrastinated picking up his fork for awhile.  he happily volunteered to get things that were missing from the table, the kids' drinks, and "oh, we need to listen to some music, i'll turn it on."  poor guy... he's such a good sport.  finally he took his first bite.  my eyes bore holes into his soul while i used my telepathic skills to ask him, well????? do you taste it?  he didn't... two thumbs up from him.  my kids didn't taste anything different either.  we will probably have to hone my liver grinding skills, but at least i know i can eat it now disguised in ground beef and lots of herbs!

quick sidenote: this recipe is legit delicious and i've been using it for breakfasts and lunches.  so flavorful and filling.  i have officially made it a whole week without eggs!  a feat that felt impossible a month ago.

breakfast hash with hidden liver
(and olive oil salad in the background)
so delicious!

SAUCES

you know half of the reason i loved whole 30?  it turned me from a basic cook into a pretty darn amazing cook.  i learned how to make some basics in the kitchen... building blocks.  i made my own ghee, bone broth and mayo.  from there i made delicious homemade dressings, soups and sauces.  in the dressings and sauces category about 95% of them required my homemade mayonnaise, which has eggs.  well, as you know by now... i can't have eggs.  they aren't compliant on AIP and furthermore my food tests revealed a sensitivity to egg yolks... which is interesting as the whites are typically what cause reactions for people.  

anyway, i stupidly planned for only balsamic vinegar (high quality) this week for salads and various renditions of guacamole (mango guacamole, regular guacamole).  so on sunday night when i went to pack my lunch i realized i had about 1/2 tbsp of balsamic vinegar left.  i mixed it with olive oil for my salads at school but i'm sad to report that no matter how much i shake that dang container, the delicious balsamic vinegar sinks to the bottom and i end up eating an olive oil salad.  not a bad thing... but not necessarily the most flavorful.  only by day three did i successfully get my vinegar to land on my spinach. 

day 2 i sent kjaer to school with our delicious guacamole and cut an avocado up on my cauliflower rice and pulled mojo chicken.  it wasn't the same.  i came home distraught, ravenous for flavor, only to find that i had planned AIP tacos - ground beef on lettuce leaves with guacamole (i had to make more).  and then day 4 i had these lovely baked sweet potatoes planned, stuffed with the leftover mojo chicken and a mango guacamole.  i think went through 12 avocados this week.

i should probably have taken the picture before digging in
but i couldn't help myself.  sweet potato with mojo chicken and
mango guacamole.  plantain chips on the side.  
...amazing.

so basically the only added flavors i've had are olive oil and guacamole.  not the zestiest sauces to say the least, although the mango really changed things up..  this weekend i will be in the kitchen sharpening my egg free mayo, sauce and dressing skills.  clearly.

in spite of my planning faux pas, i'm glad to be embarking on this AIP adventure.  it's nice to feel like i'm doing something about helping my gut heal when it would be so easy to not and eat a bag of potato chips (or eggs and coffee in my case).  and the food really is delicious (if you plan to make more than olive oil dressing and guacamole all week).  For instance, we had homemade AIP pizza crust topped with olive oil and sautéed arugula, prosciutto, grapes and turkish figs tonight... i may continue to eat pizza this way for life as it doesn't make my belly hurt and is absolutely delicious.  i made several crusts in advance over the summer and froze them so we can just come home on fridays, our official pizza and movie night, and take care of the toppings.  most of these delicious meals are coming from The Healing Kitchen... which i highly recommend if you are struggling with an autoimmune disease and need your body to chill the heck out.  just beware that if you plan on going all out, like i did, it takes considerable planning and time in the kitchen.  i don't mind that so much; clearly i have a strong drive to plan when i'm stressed and love cooking!  😊

so here's to being healthy, plans gone awry, and new adventures. 

AIP Pizza with sautéed arugula, prosciutto,
grapes and turkish figs

in the desert with some n'oatmeal and jesus...

many years ago... 15 years to be exact... I donned hiking boots, a bandana, a sunhat and my bible and did a hiking tour of israel.  i had been spurred by the uncertainty of my relationship with kjaer as we were still young and carving our own paths, getting closer to each other while he kept saying he didn't want to get married.  (maybe that deserves its own blog post).  desperate to figure myself out, i signed up for a tour and ventured overseas by myself for the very first time (i guess no one could ever accuse me of not being independent!).  it was an incredible journey that made my faith come alive and shaped me as i grappled with who i was and what i wanted.  

me and my roomie, shelley.  we met on this trip
and have been friends ever since!

was i really this young?

the tour was set up to mimic what it would have been like to follow a rabbi.  we often didn't know where we were going and our teacher would use the original hebrew and the landscape to teach scripture to us.  usually we would be dropped off knowing there was a destination in mind... an old archeological dig site or something to hike to.  

this particular morning our bus dropped us in the middle of nowhere... in the deserts of israel (israel isn't all desert, by the way.  this was just the particular area we were in during a portion of our trip).  any direction you looked... there was nothing.  

just rocks... and maybe some camels.  

see?  camels.

our rabbi started walking and we all uncomfortably looked at each other as he forged his way into the nothingness.  

so we followed.

i was painfully aware i was wandering in a literal desert... 

the terrain wasn't sandy like in the movies... it was rocky and void of life.  

and we just kept walking.  

soon we ended up by a group of children and a few sheep.  this was where we stopped.

for awhile we watched these kids, tossing rocks around their herd... keeping them together and moving them using the sounds of rocks landing by their little sheep feet.  their aim was impeccable as they chatted and played and tossed rocks.

eventually, the silence was broken by our rabbi... who started reciting psalm 23.

some people joined in... after all, it's an all time church favorite.  then it was over as the hot desert wind whipped the cords of our sunhats around and we stood waiting expectantly.

then he said words i will never forget.

THESE ARE THE GREEEN PASTURES

my american image of green pastures - which actually looked a bit like Ireland - flickered and then shattered.  you see, david had been a shepherd in israel before becoming a king and penning this psalm... in this actual geographical place.  stooping down you could see a little clump or blade of grass here and there... but it was by no means the fields of ireland.

what i learned that day and have tried to hang onto over these years is that God gives us just enough.  He doesn't just plop us in a green field and forget about us.  He is with us in the harshest terrain, the sometimes bleakness of life, pointing out the blades of grass and fighting off the wild beasts that would devour us... if we let Him (and even when we don't, too).  

He gives us just enough. 

i'm writing this because, my friends, i feel like i am in that desert again.  and as i sat down this morning for my quiet time... my coffee with too much cream in hand, i read psalm 23 and felt my young, athletic 20 something year old self standing uncomfortably in that 100+ degree rocky, desert realizing that my God didn't promise me the fields of ireland...

...but He did promise me that He'd take care of me.

this past year has been hard for everyone.  we've had those typical Covid stresses.  all of the stuff that came with our children learning at home for first semester, working from home simultaneously, jobs we had to relearn and the stress of living in a world up-side-down.  we've been there... done that.

kjaer was overaged this year at his school and is leaving the place he has called home for the past 14 years.  this has been devastating.  my part time status wasn't funded by the district for the next year.  this has flipped our family life on its head as i prepare to return to work full time for the first time in 9 years.  people we love suffered from Covid and were hospitalized.  a few people we love lost their homes due to rent increases and some have had to consider moving out of state because they can't afford the market here in colorado (and they happen to be a huge part of my support system).  i'm telling you... it's been one brutal punch after another.

on top of all of this, i have had unexplained health things happening to me in spite of working fastidiously to take care of myself, eating extremely healthy (we'd done a couple of rounds of whole30 and continued to eat that way 90% of the time) and exercising.  first, i began feeling drained all of the time.  my days home with ophelia felt unproductive and exhausting.  i began gaining weight for no reason... even though i was counting calories and measuring my food and exercising. in september i broke out in an unexplainable rash that lasted for about 6 weeks.  when i chatted with a doctor they just shrugged and said i should probably be looked at by an immunologist but failed to write the referral as my rash had been mostly healed by then.  then, i started having terrible stomach pains, waking up in the middle of the night to a stabbing sensation on my right side.  an ultrasound in december revealed nothing.  january i had a random breast biopsy... which felt traumatizing as i had just gone in for a routine mammogram and before i knew it they were prepping me for a surgical procedure.  (don't worry, it came back clean).  a couple of weeks later i broke out in a bigger rash.  this one covered my entire torso, my arms and started creeping up my neck (don't worry, i won't post pictures of it! 😂)  an immunologist suggested crazy things... bed bugs, laundry detergent.  nothing turned up.  he asked me to have my ferritin levels checked (part of an iron panel) but for a myriad of reasons i didn't go get my blood drawn.  instead i met with a dermatologist who had diagnosed me before she even talked to me because of the pictures we sent her.  i had pityriasis rosea, a rash that lasts 10-12 weeks that is usually caused by an immune response to a virus.  she asked me if i had been sick... which i hadn't.  we were all stumped.  it vanished early march... and i was glad to be done with it.  a week later i started having shortness of breath and my chest felt tight.   nothing seemed to help.  i tried my inhaler, breathing treatments, and allergy meds.  after two weeks of gasping for air (and a negative covid test) i chatted online with a kaiser doctor who tried sending me to the emergency room.  i was like, "i just am having trouble breathing and pressure in my chest, it's not chest pain."  to which she replied, "actually, that IS the definition of chest pain."  but i had already paid through the nose for a biopsy and was 90% sure i wasn't dying of a heart attack so i pushed back and asked if i could come into a clinic.  appointments were a month out but she reluctantly agreed and squeezed me in.  they did an EKG and chest Xray (which i passed with flying colors) and drew a bunch of blood.  nearly everything came back perfect... but that ferritin test from months before had also been there waiting in the cue.  it came back at a 4... normal levels are 18-300 mcg/L.  essentially my red blood cell count was extremely low... meaning that i was having trouble transferring oxygen around the body and my organs were screaming at me that they needed air.

kaiser was of little use.  my primary care physician returned my blood labs (she was filling in for the doctor who saw me in the clinic) and nonchalantly said i had a mild case of anemia.  she suggested i talk to my primary care doctor to find out about my iron levels... to which i mentally replied "YOU ARE MY FREAKING PRIMARY CARE DOCTOR!"  she had also not taken into account my ferritin test that had been ordered by a different doctor and was failing at seeing a bigger health picture.  

i was suffocating.

when i told her i had started an over the counter iron supplement and within an hour i could breath better... she told me she didn't think that was what helped me.  whatever, lady.  i know what happened.  (also... you were too lazy to look at the levels of my ferritin test because you didn't order that one... but it still counts).

feeling disillusioned, i decided to try a naturopathic doctor, dr. miller.  you guys know that since my VBACs with Henley and Ophelia i've been a little, how shall we say it... experimental with my healthcare.  i've been frustrated by doctors over and over again and have found such good healing with looking at ways to address root causes with things like diet and herbs.  so, with my fresh labs in hand, i met with her one spring day... i was having such a hard time breathing on the drive there i removed my bra while driving.  i actually tried to convince myself that maybe it was my bras that had made breathing so difficult for the past month.  i was second guessing myself.... something i had gotten really good at doing for the previous 7 months.

first of all... she spent 2 hours with me pouring over the bloodwork and my medical history.  it was so validating to hear that the things the doctors were shrugging off were no shrug-worthy matter.  when she saw my ferritin she expressed how uncomfortable she was with that number.  she confirmed i couldn't breath because of my low ferritin levels and set out to find the root cause.  she also confirmed that this was why i could start breathing better when taking the iron... like i had thought.  the larger question was, why was my body losing blood?  we have done many tests over the past few months... some have not been so pretty.  i may have even submitted to a stool sample that i had to do at home with my three young children knocking on the door at precisely the worst moment... but i digress.  by may we had ruled out internal bleeding, meaning that my loss of blood was being contributed to by my heavy menstrual cycle. however, the tests were bringing back some other red flags and we still had to figure out why i was losing so much blood.   

by mid-june i was diagnosed with an autoimmune disease called Hashimotos Thyroiditis... 

a crushing revelation, of sorts.

when i was diagnosed it was like everything fell into place... the exhaustion, the unexplained weight gain, the low iron, the heavy periods... it all made sense and yet felt scary all at once.  while i can work to put my hashimotos into remission,  it is going to take extreme dietary measures (AIP)... like more extreme than whole 30... and a lot of tweaking meds and herbs.  remission, if it happens, can be a 6-12 month journey... sometimes years for people.  the other frustrating thing is we still are digging for the root cause.  so now we are onto a whole other round of testing for SIBO and food sensitivities.  the goal in getting to the root cause is to heal that part of me that caused my immune system to go haywire and then work forward from there.  addressing the root cause can give me a better chance to put my body into remission.

on top of it all, apparently my immune system has also reactivated Epstein-Bar virus in my body (mono)... because, why not?  firstly, i never even knew i've had mono in the past.  secondly, that you could reactivate it.  reactivated EBV can cause a whole host of health problems including chronic fatigue syndrome, fibromyalgia, thyroid issues, lupus, vertigo, tinnitus and can contribute to anxiety, chest pain and asthma.  dr. miller seemed more concerned about treating the EBV virus with a ten week protocol before hitting the hashimotos hard core and so i've been spending the month of july stocking my freezer with AIP recipes and finding ones that i like so that when i return to work i can successfully heal my body while following a strict protocol to support my immune system in "turning off" EBV.  

you guys... i'm making weird ass things like carrot and banana n'oatmeal and spaghetti squash porridge for breakfast right now.  (both of which are extremely delicious, surprisingly!)

adding to the stress of this is the AIP diet.  when doing whole30 and basically cutting every food from God's green earth... i relied heavily on some staples... eggs, nuts and seeds, potatoes and coffee.  ALL of these will need to be eliminated from one to several months for me to be able to heal. 

did you hear me?  ALL OF THEM.

when dr. miller was like, "don't worry... there are lots of delicious coffee substitutes out there",  i nearly fell out of my chair and begged the sweet Lord to take me home.  (and the sad thing is... after our lovely chat i started drinking the almond amaretto herbal coffee  for my afternoon and evening cups. i even convinced myself i could come off of coffee only to learn i can't have the nut coffees on AIP 😭).

all that to say... i feel like i'm in a freaking terrible, endless, rocky desert you guys... and it keeps getting hotter.  oh... have i mentioned that my autoimmune disease gets worse if you are stressed?   so there's the cherry on top!

a couple of weeks ago, i woke up, took my kids to swimming lessons, drove home, started boiling hot dogs and had to lay down mid-boil and ask kjaer to take over because i was too exhausted to finish.  as i laid there on the couch, tears dripping down my cheeks, i felt myself crying out to God.  

how in the world am i supposed to be able to work full time when i can't boil f-ing hot dogs?

i felt isolated, alone and scared.  consumed by the worries of letting down my family, my colleagues and myself.  i was and am terrified that the busyness of a full time job might push me to the brink if i couldn't even go to swimming lessons and boil hot dogs without taking a nap.

i'm in the desolate desert and i'm worried i won't be able to get out without some sort of mental break down or my autoimmune disease ramping up even more.  

being the planner i am, i've started trying to prep myself.  call it what you will... but i'm calling it self-care.  i'm trying to hire a housecleaner, i've asked our babysitter to take on light housework this next schoolyear and the kids' laundry (an idea that i think is quite brilliant), i'm cooking and freezing meals for the fall and my AIP adventure, i've taken up yoga, i'm planning on walking during my lunches as work.  i'm trying to anticipate the challenges and be proactive.  but it still leaves me feeling overwhelmed and exhausted.  

so this morning as i sat down in my chair and started reading... i read psalm 23 and was moved.  i felt it, you guys... like to my core.  i have read and recited that psalm my entire life without skipping a beat... and today God grabbed me by the hand and walked me through my previous valleys of the shadows of death (which were way worse than my green pastures right now)... my rebellious pits i put myself in, the horrific illness and loss of my father, my postpartum depression, and some hairy stuff i walked beside kjaer through a few years ago.  and if felt it like a whisper and a loud roar all at once.

I was there with you.

I will be here with you.

and then i did what any bona-fide church girl does when she hears just what she needs from God.  

i started singing great is thy faithfulness... obviously.  

what?  that's not what you would do?

it's true though, because when i heard those words above... my heart remembered everything He has carried me through.  i mean... God and i have been through some sh-- together.... you know?  He's been my ride or die for the last two decades.  and always on the other side of those dark pits came a new facet to my faith and a new understanding about myself.  

i understand that this can make some people uncomfortable... and rightfully so.   a lot of folks have been hurt by the church or someone who claims to be a Christian, or have been scared to believe or resistant or simply just don't believe in God... that's ok.  but the thing is... i do.  so i just wanted to let you all know what's in my gas tank as i head into a year that feels bigger than 2020 was for me.  and here's the thing about God... whether you believe in Him or not... He's a gentleman... He won't force Himself on you like imperfect humans often try to do or scare you into submission.  just know that He's there if/when you call... just like He was for me 21 years ago on my apartment floor when i had reached rock bottom and was wishing death upon myself.  He was there and He'll be here...

Because of the LORD’s great love we are not consumed, for His compassions never fail.  They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.  Lamentations 3:22-23

so should we cross paths sometime in the next few months... just know i'm working through some stuff.  i'll probably have a headache from lack of caffeine so if you call my name i might squint at you or even look at you with contempt.  please don't hold it against me... it's the coffee's fault for being bad for my adrenals.  i may also be carrying around some sort of weird root vegetable breakfast doused in coconut milk with a catchy name like "n'oatmeal".... don't hold that against me either.  i may also have to relearn how to have professional hair and have outfits that don't include leggings... give me a few months to figure this all out.  it's just to much to be a glamorous working mom for me right now.  because underneath it all i'll be working my way through a low valley for myself... a change in my family life as i leave behind my part-time days for now, trying to kick some auto-immune disease ass, and trying to find rest and peace enough to heal when life feels so wild and crazy right now.  

because the main thing i came here to say is... today i was reminded that i won't be doing it alone.  and that feels a bit like an oasis to me... something i can rest in and know.  so i'm going to sit my little self down in this dessert with my n'oatmeal and lean on my shepherd... because without Him i'd be walking into a wasteland of despair this next school year...  but with Him i have hope.

we'll always have france...

you guys...

a few weeks ago i returned from the best kind of therapy there is.  and no, not the kind with a dr. doodling in a notepad.  the kind with plane tickets, passports and adventure.  the kind that rejuvenates you, even though you've been going nonstop.  the kind where you remember a little bit of who you were and who you are becoming.

but let me go back a bit.  back to last spring when i was in our basement sulking because once again i was feeling sorry for myself.  being a parent is hard.  it requires dying to yourself every single day.  and it starts from conception for a mother.  because what was once your body is NO. LONGER. YOUR. BODY.  guess what?  i still don't have my body back.  it's like i've signed up to be a permanent jungle gym with the upgraded feature of padded equipment (for safety, of course).  kjaer was heading out on a mini trip to visit his brother and i was sulking.  it was a selfish sort of sulk... but sometimes i feel bad for myself because ever since this parenting gig i haven't gotten to travel like i used to.  and if i do travel, it's not been to a destination i picked per se.  now don't get me wrong, we went on an amazing adventure to bermuda a few years ago with little itsy bitsy leif and teeny tiny henley to visit my brother and sister in law (they were performers on a cruise ship).  that was an incredible adventure and so much fun. and we've had a couple of short trips to vegas.

but i'm talking about seeing a part of the world that i've pointed to on a map and said... "i wanna go here".  i've sent kjaer on many small trips to california to visit his brother, once on a large trip to Disney World with his family... all while staying home with our little ones.  it's been a small sacrifice... but i haven't been quiet about it.

 i can get rather broody about it, actually.

don't get me wrong.  kjaer sacrifices all of the time too.  hello... he's a parent.  and a damn fine one, if i say so myself.  but just go with me here... because it's building up the backstory to our present time! traveling has been a part of my soul... my dad was a truck driver and when i was a kid he would toss my family into his truck for a few weeks at a time during the summer.  traveling restores me and gives me something to look forward to. 

so... back to sulking in the basement.  kjaer is very patiently allowing me my space to sulk and talk and do all the things i think i need to do when i feel like a victim of sacrifice.  and then he asked me the critical question, "what would help you move forward?"

and i answered the question without hesitating... 

"planning a trip for the two of us to Paris.  like... with an actual timeframe.  setting up a fund at the bank and contributing money to it.  A. Legit. Plan."

he was totally fine with this... although i don't know that he really thought things would unfold as quickly as they did.  our first step was to take a portion of our tax return that year and ceremoniously deposit it into the Paris fund.  (well, it was ceremonious for me.  i may have texted him a celebratory text that said something to the effect of, "just put money into our paris fund!"  

and he was probably like, "... ok...")

by september it was clear to me that it was highly likely that we'd be able to go to paris by the next summer due to a great side hustle i picked up.  I was turning 40 and we made a commitment on my birthday that during my 40th year of life we would go to paris to celebrate my fourties!

why paris, you ask???

well... i've always been enamored by it.  i took french in school starting in the 8th grade.  by the end of my junior year my teacher was pestering me to take AP French my senior year.  i stupidly declined, not wanting to take any "hard" classes.  (insert eye roll at my stupid high school self).  but i've always dreamed of going.  then, when kjaer and i were dating i bought him a little paper eiffel tower after visiting a temporary monet exhibit in Washington DC.  i stuck it to his fridge and proclaimed he couldn't take it down until he had taken me to see it.  and then life sped up and paris was forgotten... or at least shoved into a dark, dank closet with my body from my 20's and my skinny jeans.  we got married and took a nice, but modest honeymoon through california.  it was perfect, really.  and best of all, we paid cash... so we weren't starting our marriage off in debt.  then we had babies... also perfect and hard.  i started working part time which meant sacrificing some extra stuff... ie - fancy vacations among other things.  so when he asked me to sum up my dream trip, paris just fell out of my mouth.  i've always wanted to go and here was my chance.

so i worked this extra job (which i adored, in the process... always a plus) and by november i had booked our airfare and hotel.  then i spent the next six months daydreaming, picking the brains of friends who had been, googling, researching and planning.  it was all so exciting, until i had to write the letter to my relatives about what to do with our sweet babies if kjaer and i went down in a fiery plane crash.  then i had about two weeks of fear, regret, sleepless nights and lots of nail biting....  and suddenly we were on the plane.

words can't even describe how this time with my man was like food for my soul.

if you asked me what my high point was... i would say that the entire trip was so fabulous that i couldn't name just one thing.  however, as i've spent the last few weeks thinking about how to share my adventures with you... one moment keeps surfacing for me.  it really touches the heart of WHY i needed this trip...

i had just finished taking this picture of kjaer standing at the front of St. Maurices in Annecy.  we were in france during a major heat wave and i was feeling quite unkempt.  internally i was struggling because i wasn't feeling very fashionable in my tennis shoes and do-rag.  plus, my insecurity was rearing its ugly head.  i was fretting about recent weight gain and feeling like a sausage walking around in a land of beautiful french women.  (seriously, they are insanely beautiful). thankfully, the cathedrals were nice and cool... an oasis for the hot and tired.  besides that, they were gorgeous.  so i was doing what i had gotten in the habit of doing in those old cathedrals... taking pictures of the beautiful ceilings, the organ, the stained glass.  as i put my camera down kjaer turned around and i started walking down the aisle toward him.  a goofy grin spread across his face.

"what!?!" i inquired.

"i can't really explain it." he said, "but it's like i was marrying you all over again!  you were coming down the aisle... to me!"  with that he linked arms with me and smiled as we turned to face the alter.  i may have melted right there in st. maurices... and not because of the heat.

that moment was just what i needed.  hot, sweaty, me...  the girl/woman who sometimes feels lost in motherhood, who is insecure about her body everything, who has sacrificed (as all parents do) hobbies like running, keeping up with music, and reading honest-to-goodness books for carpool, pre-school drop off, grocery shopping and laundry.  my man stood right there in that church and reminded me that he was as crazy about me... crazier even... as the day he married me.

did we have to go to france just to be reminded of that?  of course not.  kjaer tells me every day how special i am.  but something in that moment got through to me and i can't stop glowing from it.

if i could, i would go back to that tired, worn out, feeling sorry for herself mama in the basement.  i would take her by the shoulders and tell her that naming precisely what she needed was one of the smartest things she's ever done.  that her husband loves her deeply and would give anything to make sure she's feeling appreciated and special.  that giving him a tangible goal was speaking in his tongue.  and that way underneath her soft, fluffy skin there was still that lively, vivacious girl she once knew.  all she had to do was practice a little self care, even though it felt selfish, to get her to come out.  and that in doing so, she would find herself again.  and that 15 months from that sad, pitiful day, she would be standing in a church in France with her soul mate and feeling his love so deep in her marrow that it would make it impossible to not smile for the next several days.  and she would find herself thanking God right then and there for her marriage, her kids, her insanely amazing husband and the glorious gift of a trip to France. 

walmart jesus...

back when i was SUPER pregnant with Henley, i was suddenly struck with a fear.  i was laying in bed reflecting back to my first trimester when i thought for sure i was pregnant with a girl... this was so exciting to me as i really wanted a girl and already had my sweet little boy.  i don't know why i thought i was going to have a girl then... i just felt really feminine and drank a lot of lemonade when i felt nauseous... so i just kind of knew she was a girl.  

but as the second trimester started those feelings of just knowing faded.  i was ok with this as first trimester wasn't THAT far behind me and i could still vividly remember the feeling of just knowing.  so i waddled in confidence that yes, this was going to be a girl.  

but then the third trimester came.  you know... when your maternity clothes no longer fit, you've been pregnant FOREVER and you can't remember the last time you saw your shoes, never mind the feelings you had 6 months ago.  

so i laid in bed, clinging to my giant pregnancy pillow, with this fear washing over me... what if she wasn't a girl and instead of receiving her with joy i felt disappointed?

so i unashamedly asked God for a sign... just to see if i was on the right track.

he had given me several with leif... which i tried to ignore (only dreamed about boys, saw an ultrasound image of his head and "just knew" he was a boy) because i had wanted a girl so bad.  reflecting back, i knew that leif was going to be a boy but i think (poor leif) that i was really hoping for a girl.  

i just didn't want to feel that way again... like my mothering instincts were terribly out of whack or something.

so i asked for a sign... just anything to give me a little insight.  

i think in my pregnant little head i thought He'd give me a dream with a little boy or girl in it.  i don't know... i mean, i was hoping for a sign but it's like i forgot that He's GOD and has managed to get pretty creative when He's had news to share with someone on earth.

(ahem... heavenly hosts singing...)

so...

the 

very. 

next. 

day. 

(i'm not even exaggerating) 

i was grocery shopping at Wal-Mart.  I had left leif with kjaer and was enjoying a toddler-free shopping trip.  you mama's know what i'm talking about.  i was savoring walking down the aisles whilst checking my list and actually crossing the things off of my list with a pen instead of mentally crossing off... which always gets me into trouble.  

i was standing in the bread aisle putting tortillas into my cart when an older man... probably in his 50's or 60's walked up to me.  he had a slight limp and there was really nothing else about him that stuck out to me.

anyways... he walked up to me, looked at my very round belly, and said:  making three bullet points in the air with his finger from top to bottom.  

"boy,

girl,

girl"

and then he walked away.

at first i laughed.  probably a nervous laugh because i'm not very good at playing things cool when i'm baffled.  and then i realized what truly just had happened.  

a stranger...

came up to me...

and told me...

about all of my children...

the one i had...

the two i didn't have yet...

and walked away.

so i started roving the aisles of wal-mart looking for a middle aged man with a limp and he was nowhere to be found.  i'm not sure exactly what i was going to say if i had found him... but i think it would have sounded something like... "sir, excuse me.  who are you and why did you say that to me?"  

i mean... who walks up to an extremely large pregnant woman and starts spouting off sexes of babies and quantities?  it would just be cruel.  

i never found him.

so i came home and told kjaer... whose first reaction was, "WE'RE GOING TO HAVE THREE?!?!  I DON'T THINK I CAN DO THAT. I JUST DECIDED TODAY THAT WE'RE GOOD WITH TWO." "

after kjaer settled down, we discussed it and decided that we wouldn't tell anyone about my strange encounter until baby k#2 was born.  i think i was mostly afraid people would think i was crazy.  we did end up telling immediate family and very close friends before the baby came, but i really did keep quiet because... well, it just all seemed so surreal.  

so you guys know what happened.  baby k #2 was born and she was a beautiful baby girl.  those that we had already confided in were astonished and we started telling everyone else about "walmart jesus" who we lovingly refer to him as... though maybe it was a "walmart angel".... i don't know.  

so here we are two and a half years later... i'm one week away from my 20 week ultrasound (where we will NOT be finding out again.)

 expecting a third child in itself is already amazing as kjaer was truly happy with two and i was the one who wanted one more.  however, it was really important to me that if we had one more, the decision came from kjaer.  so i was starting to wonder about ol' walmart jesus and if i was crazy.  but kjaer's heart changed and now, very suddenly, we find ourself expecting our third.  and we're thrilled.  and i'm getting a little bolder in believing that one of God's messengers really did show up for me in that Walmart store.  He showed up for my very insignificant, selfish request because sometimes He likes to blow us away with His love.  

so my question for you, dear friends and family... is what do YOU think?  

boy?

girl?

we won't know until a late day in May.  but i'm telling you, i believe... we believe... our loving God has already told us one ordinary january day in 2014 in a grocery store.  

perpetual child delay...

i'm the kind of girl... at least i used to be... that was mostly on time.

by that i mean i usually arrived at my destination right on the nose... give or take a minute or two... 90% of the time.  while i know this wasn't best practice, it is basically how i've functioned my entire life.  yes... sometimes i'd occasionally be 5 minutes late.  but for the most part, i was there when i was supposed to be. therefore, i've always considered myself one of those punctual-ish people... though not quite as impeccable as my parents.

my mom... she's 15-20 minutes early to every place.  i'm pretty sure my dad was about the same as well.  this isn't because of a generational gap -  they were/are basically just the most decent human beings you've ever met and they would never disrespect you by being late... not even for the most casual of occasions.  

going grocery shopping with my mom?  she'll be at your house ten minutes early.  

me?  i'm punctual-ish.

the problem with this mindset is that then i had children and now i'm on a constant child delay.  to illustrate how much i cogitate upon this perpetual lag in my life, here is an excerpt from an email i sent kjaer last week after my drive into work:

got out of the door at 7:27.  was feeling so proud I was actually leaving 6 minutes earlier than my usual lateness and ON TIME.  got stuck behind a caterpillar bulldozer on Dayton from 6^th to that next major light.  basically showed up at work at my normal time. (five minutes late)

I’M TELLING YOU… I CAN NOT WIN!  :/

and that's the way it always goes these days.  i have two small children and a senile dog who will poop on his hind legs should there be a whisper of punctuality.  and though i have instituted a plethora of precautionary measures meant to ensure our punctuality to preschool/work/church, nothing seems to help.  

precautionary measures include:   

-exercising and taking my shower at night 

-setting an alarm 15 minutes before we're supposed to be backing out of the driveway

-revising said alarm to 30 minutes before we're supposed to leave to include going potty and brushing teeth

-packing bags/diaper bags the night before and sometimes even loading them in the car by moonlight

-packing lunch night before

-making coffee and setting timer night before

-waking up 5 minutes earlier

-waking up 10 minutes earlier

-waking up 30 minutes earlier
-resorting to a daily "messy bun" and no longer styling my hair

seriously... 

it doesn't matter. 

i'm cursed. 

it's like i'm sisyphus... pushing two children out the door and into a car.

to further my case of how i just can't win... let us cozy up and hear the tale of last thursday.  

leif goes to pre-school on tuesdays and thursdays- my days off.  he needs to be there at 9:15... seems like a reasonable time of day, right?  i mean, since having children i haven't slept past 7 AM so you'd think that two hours to get myself and two small beings out the door would be plenty of time.  especially since i have put all of the precautionary measures in place over this past school year.

negative. nope.  never.

we still stroll into preschool 2-7 minutes late...

every.

time.

i feel the director eyeballing me as i charge through the door every tuesday and thursday like a wrecking ball. 

what's worse is, i'm a freaking teacher for pete's sake.  

you'd think i could get my own child to school on time.  

but no.

so this particular thursday morning, things were going fairly smoothly.  both children were dressed, hair was combed and pig-tailed, bags were packed and i was waiting for the 30 minute timer to start our exodus.  i was SO ready.  nothing was going to stop me.  i could literally visualize us pulling out of the driveway at 8:58. looking back, i probably should repent for my cockiness.  

so the timer on the oven beeps with the 30 minute countdown and i ask leif to turn off Curious George (yes... he still loves ol' c.g... and i love that he loves him so) and go to the bathroom.  i could see the funnel cloud form above his head.  there was an exchange of angry three year old words with mommy-who-wants-to-be-on-time words which might have included something about not being able to watch curious george later that evening since he was throwing a tantrum.  gnashing of teeth ensued.

(so there, young dawdling child!)

and, as if it were airborne, henley started crying and i can't even remember why.

so i was in the throws of trying to survive a double whammy tantrum.  but i could not be swayed.  i was going to get us to preschool on time by golly.  a freight train wasn't going to stop this expedition.  so i gave hugs and kisses and bribed henley with bringing toys like elmo and baby doll and "packpacks" out to the car.  i held hands, carried and gently rounded up my offspring in the general direction of the car. they moved like bellowing cattle, and i was their patient, punctual cowgirl.  

once leif was out front in the fresh air, his tantrum cleared up as quickly as it had surged, and he stood upon his picnic table in the front yard and surveyed the land. he does this from time to time, like Simba on pride rock.  who knows, he could also be checking the weather and listening for prey as well, but i usually take it as my moment to buckle henley in... which turned into another fit because she is now undeniably two.

t.w.o.

... and she likes to punctuate her thoughts with "I DO IT" while she feebly plays with her buckles for an eternity.  should you even to attempt to help her do anything without her consent, be ready for the toddler assaults and screams to fly.  this takes a very fine act of trying to offer my help but making her think it's her idea.  i have not quite perfected my strategy with her yet... as being fiercely independent has just recently reared it's ugly head.  so it takes us a while.  

but i'm not shaken.  

i've got this. 

i am a punctual goddess.

meanwhile, leif has started walking his domain and i remember a spray of diarrhea from our fossil of a dog that had been lain earlier that morning.  I leave henley's side, and show leif where it is like an air traffic controller, motioning my arms this way and that,  with a gentle reminder to watch where he's walking.  he looks at me like, oh my!  where did that come from?!?

(you know where i'm headed... don't you?)

i head back around to henley and check my phone.  we're doing good.  i can see the finish line.  my angelic son is calmly waiting for me and  i'm nearly done with his adorable, yet fiesty sister.  i cue leif to enter the car and get started on his seat belt when finally, henley gets the brilliant idea that we should work together on this tricky thing called a car seat buckle... to which i happily oblige, give high fives, load her dolls and books in and shut her door.  

success!!!

meanwhile, leif hops in the car, his little blue eyes sparkling as he starts to ask me his usual round of curious questions while climbing into his car seat.  

and i see it.  

i see it before i smell it.

a little bit of grass and.... something... on the end of his boot.  

FREEZE! i say... a bit loudly perhaps.

leif... did you... step in poop?

he looks at me, confused.

DON'T MOVE, i say firmly, running around the car to lift him out.  

and there it was... all over his little boots.  

NO, I REFUSE!!! I WILL NOT FALL TO THIS ATROCITY!!!!

i have him go sit on the stoop and remove his boots.  he's very sweet and apologetic.  i knew it wasn't on purpose of course... though it sort of feels like it.  i dash back into the house to grab another set of shoes.  i toss them on leif and have him run to the car while i put trooper's diaper back on and get him into the house.  i see the clock... 9:02.  

i can't believe this... i might be OK... i might only be a couple minutes late.  

i start tearing out of our house like i'm on a Wipe Out obstacle course when i hear leif call to me... "mom?  i think i got poop on your seat."

no!  it can't be!  i think.  it's mud from the other day.  don't panic.

i get to him to adjust his seat belt and there it is... smudged on my back seat.  for a second i entertain the thought of leaving it there until after preschool drop off.  but i couldn't.  i just couldn't.  living with a 105 year old dog makes you feel pretty sick and tired of smelling excrement from ancient bowels.  

so i get henley's diaper wipes out and clean off my seat, find all of the blankets and objects that leif had inadvertently stepped on when entering the car, toss them into the back of my car and jump into the drivers seat.  i turn the key... the clock reads 9:07.  

DAMN IT!!!

i drive to preschool like a defeated soul who just can't go on.  i can already picture pulling into the parking lot with all of the other mom's exiting the school (in their designer outfits and flawless makeup, of course) staring at me in slow-motion as i lull by them... top knot in my hair and the same sweatshirt and ripped up jeans i wear every week.  they chant "tar-dy, tar-dy, tar-dy!" pumping their fists high into the morning sky, while i unload my littles (and toys and packpacks) and mosey into the building.  one lady leans over and whispers to another, "how can someone be late at nine.fifteen.in.the.morning?" and the other responds, "What will she do when kindergarten begins and he has to be at school by 7:45?"   i do my best to shake this vision from my head as i pull into an empty space and unload.  

there are no more excuses.  we have an old, sick dog has been used many times.  i'm in the middle of helping my mom move has been an excuse.  it doesn't matter.  there's always an excuse.  always.  my son accidentally walked through poop or we got stuck behind a giant tractor on a one lane road just doesn't seem to suffice.  i want to weep at the feet of his sweet preschool teacher and beg for forgiveness.  i want to explain that i'm a teacher and deal with tardiness all of the time from other parents and students.  i used to (pre-children, of course) shake my head at that one mom who just couldn't get her shit together and i'd think, "just leave 5 minutes earlier! it's not that hard."

yes, judgy monica of yesteryear.  it IS hard.  it is SO freaking hard.  it's hard to stay calm while moving your little brood out the car every morning.  it's hard to make sure everyone has brushed teeth, that 50% of your children have combed hair on most days and everything they need to successfully move throughout the day.  it's hard to do all of that, plus care for a house,  your husband, yourself, and your senile, dying dog.  it's hard to do this amazingly wonderful job of being a parent.

so that does it.  i'm declaring my life in a perpetual five minute delay.  you want me somewhere?  lie and tell me it's starting 10 minutes earlier than it really is.  who knows, maybe i'd walk in on time.  as for me, i'm going to try giving myself a little more grace.  

my children are kind and sweet. 

i'm madly in love with their dad,

who's madly in love with us.

we all love each other to the marrow.  

my babes are well-fed.  
they are happy.

they are amazing.  

but, i'm sorry, they have one flaw.  
they will be five minutes late to whatever they're supposed to be doing from now on.