love wins...

this blog was originally written around valentines day... but i didn't finish it (for an obvious 8.1 lb reason named henley!).  i didn't mind... i figured the following month i could finish it and post it for our anniversary.  that didn't happen.  so here it is... several months late.  

let me let you in on a little secret about kjaer and i...

we were destined...

had you told me ten years ago today that i would marry the man standing in front of me... i would have probably fainted in ecstasy and laughed in your face all at once... and that would be AFTER picking my jaw up off of the floor.

because it was about ten years ago that i sat with my mother, totally frustrated by the male species and ready to swear off men and be alone for the rest of my days.  

my life had been a series of unrequited infatuations with boys who paid no attention to me.  i have always wondered why this was... i couldn't figure out why some girls had the boys lined up around the block and why i was always their "cute friend" who couldn't seem to snag a boy if she tried.  i had recently experienced this with a couple of guys who had i really liked and who ignored the fact that i was even datable material.  

i was really beginning to think that something was wrong with me.

you hear me?

w.r.o.n.g.

i mean... how could i be so invisible to the male species?

so i was whining about this to my mom... who challenged me with what seemed like an absurd suggestion at the time.  she said, "why don't you ask God to reveal your husband to you?"

i laughed... probably snorted a little.

and then i went home that night and prayed my guts out.

i think i even cried... it was an act of honest sincerity and desperation.

that night i dreamed about a handsome man with a beard and when he hugged me, my face went into the safety of his chest.  in my dream i couldn't make out his features very well, just his beard.  i woke up feeling a little unnerved, thinking that i had dreamed my spouse was going to be Jesus.  and well... that made me feel a little... awkward and unholy. 

not that i ever feel holy... i'm just sayin'...

when my mom asked me about it i said,

thanks a lot mom.  now i just feel like a pervert because apparently i'm going to marry Jesus.

and, to make it worse, it was one of those dreams where i woke up in love.  i seriously walked around for days feeling like i was in love with this person already, even though i didn't know who they were.  some friends of mine suggested kjaer because he worked with me and he was the only person i knew with a beard.  but honest to the G.O.D., i did not even make that connection.  

several months later, kjaer asked me to go watch a meteor shower in the middle of the night and the rest is, as they say, history.

it wasn't until i was married for a few months already when my mom reminded me of that dream and i realized that God had been revealing kjaer to me.... not Jesus.  and wouldn't you know... when he hugs me, my face goes right into his chest.

so... he's literally the man of my dreams... if you catch my drift.

but he snuck up on me like a thief in the night because we were friends first...

i think i hooked him into being my friend when i came to school my first year of teaching with a BRAND NEW CAR.  i didn't really have a ton of friends yet but i really wanted to show someone my NEW CAR.  the hallways were inexplicably empty except for this handsome fellow i had talked a couple of times with.  somehow this came up when he and i passed in the hallway and he, very enthusiastically said, "well, i'll go out and see your new car!"  so we marched out to the parking lot at 7:30 in the morning for the big reveal.  i was twittering with excitement.  it was my NEW CAR and somebody (especially a handsome somebody) cared!

i can't even imagine what went through kjaer's head when we arrived at said NEW CAR.  i'm not sure what he was expecting... but i doubt it was an old 2 door Toyota Tercel.... which by the way... was THE nicest car i had owned to date and i LOVED it!  it had most of it's paint AND it's dashboard wasn't cracked... now that's high class!  AND it had my faceplate stereo installed in it... so i was living the dream.  he seemed really excited about it and i got the attention i was so desperately craving.  but i'm sure he went back to his classroom, shut the door, and bent over clenching his gut in fits of laughter.

see... i had judged him all wrong.  i thought because he had this sexy beard thing going on with longer hair and because he was a quiet, introverted artist... that he wouldn't judge me and my taste in cars because i assumed he wasn't interested in cars.  what i didn't know, and what i've come to learn over the past 9 years... is that the man is a car freak.  he knows so much about cars that i sometimes find myself pretending to know what he's talking about because he's so stinking smart about them i can't even follow his train of thought.

it's a little surprising he wanted to date me after that.

actually, it's a little surprising we got married after that!

anyways... at that point in kjaer's life, marriage was something he wanted no part of.  kind of like my aversion to scary movies.  he didn't want to think or talk about marriage or even acknowledge the possibility of it... just enjoy life.

so, it was a little stunning that he wanted to date me.  because... to a woman, at least a woman like myself... dating, if all goes well, leads to marriage.  and even though i told myself i wasn't going to concern myself with stuff like that and just enjoy our relationship... after a couple of years my brain was beginning to wonder if he was the one.

and we dated for awhile... quite awhile.

we have been married 4 years now... so you do the math.

sometimes this got frustrating, especially because we both didn't know where we were headed as kjaer wrestled with letting go of his aversion to marriage because he loved me so much.  but now i see that those years of dating have really solidified this thang we've got going on.  some of the brick walls that so many of our friends encountered after getting married had already been tackled by us before we were married because we learned to communicate through them.

and i'm not saying this makes our marriage better than anyone else's...

i just am seeing the greater purpose to it now as we enter this phase of life with babies...

because... you guys... i've never done anything so challenging as being a mama and a wife at the same time, in my life.

january 2014

if i could just be a wife... i could nail it.

if i could just be a mama... i could na--... well, that's a lie.  i need kjaer to be successful in that too.  i have no idea how you single mama's do it, but you deserve mad props!

to be both requires something more in me that makes me reach waaaaaayyyy down to the soles of my feet and give everything.... so much that sometimes i feel like i have nothing left for anyone, including myself.

and i'm sure kjaer would say the same about being my husband and a daddy at the same time too.  this newest challenge of having a family often overshadows some of the necessary time it takes to cultivate your relationship.

 but back in january i had a moment.
 we were watching the bronco game on the couch and i looked at him.  and in that split second, i really saw him again.

do you know what i mean?

i saw his strong jawline and his gorgeous eyes that made me so weak kneed nine years ago and i felt this explosion of love come surging out of me.  i lovingly grabbed his hand out of nowhere and said something really mushy to him... though i can't remember what it was now.  (he sort of looked at me like i had gone off of the deep end).  i couldn't believe that 9 years later i was sitting next to him, our two year old running around at our feet and me 9 months pregnant with our second child, happily married.  it was almost like it all was a dream...

or... like the matrix... my husband would excitedly exclaim.

because i, for reals, have myself a good man.  i have someone who loves me... and i mean REALLY loves me.  he's seen my giant, pregnant body naked and he STILL loves me (even i had a hard time loving that).  he's sat with me while i've sobbed uncontrollably about the smallest, most insignificant details and he STILL loves me.  he's followed me quietly into the deepest, darkest pits of myself and he STILL loves me.  he has been my rock during the most trying times of my life and he STILL loves me.  he has tenderly picked up the pieces of my broken heart after the death of my father when i thought i couldn't....

i repeat

COULD.
NOT.

go on anymore and he STILL loves me.  he let his bachelor pad get slowly taken over by the dreaded woman's touch... and do i even need to say it?

yup!  that man l.o.v.e.s. me.

sometimes it takes a little friction for me to remember this.

like a couple of months ago, i came downstairs totally burnt out from being mega-pregnant and mother to an almost 2 year old whose two hour bedtime routine was wearing on me.  i was feeling so wretched... isolated, alone, tired, jealous.  and i spewed forth the tears and the qualms... sometimes aiming my little darts at kjaer.  looking back, i suppose i was mostly just an exhausted person complaining and needing to be heard.  and i truly think that kjaer is the only man that God placed on this green earth to cope with this sort of behavior.  not that there's anything wrong with the feelings i was having... just how i was reacting.

sometimes i feel like i am like a bumpy texture on a wall
and kjaer is the special tool that smooths me out.

do you feel me?

he diffuses.  he loves.  he listens.

and then he goes to bed because doing all of that makes him really, really tired.

and i'm left thinking, damn i'm so blessed.

so blessed that he cares enough to do the hard work of being married, to get his hands dirty, and be my partner in crime for life.  so blessed that he walked out to that tercel with me one day back in 2003 and didn't humiliate me.  so blessed that he overcame his fears and took the plunge with me one perfect day in march of 2010.  so blessed to help him raise our children so that they can grow up to have his integrity, loyalty and passion.   so blessed that he holds me in the safe harbor of his arms and loves me and our children so intensely that he sacrifices bits of himself every day to make our lives better.

that, my friends, is the man i love.

that is the man of my dreams.

i'll tell you mine if you tell me yours...

i was inspired by another blog to do this... i thought it was so perfectly funny and refreshing to read another woman airing out her "top 5 quirks" of the year.  immediately i thought, i should do that.  and although i have many... oh-so-many things that make me quirky... i will name the top 5 i've noticed in myself this year.  in other words, they've probably existed in me for a long time... but i'm only now beginning to dust off the surface of my very crazy self.

i hope you feel inspired to do so as well.

1.) i'm sure every mother has their thing that they obsess over with their child.  for some it's body temperature... which i don't really care about, as my mother likes to point out every time she sees her grandson and thinks he's freezing to death (even though he's just fine to me).  for others it's a sleep schedule... and leif has forced me to throw my hands up in the air on this one.  i've spent the last 20 months of his life trying to figure him out and finally gave in because he is not like all of your perfectly sleep trained children (read... he is STUBBORN)  he fights sleep and i'm tired of fighting him to conform so i gave up.  as long as he takes a nap at some point and goes to bed before 9 (but preferably 8) i'm happy.  tonight i had him in bed by 8... he finally went to sleep at 9:30.

see?

i. give. up.

nope.  for me it's something else... choking... on food more specifically.

the child will be starving to death and i'm over at his plate sawing his food into tiny pieces because lord help us all if i have to perform the heimlich on him.  if he were to choke, i'd probably run around in circles asking myself if he qualifies for the infant method or the adult method.  it's so bad, that when others give him chunks of food, i break them into smaller pieces when they're not looking because i'm just sure they are the obstruction his little throat has been waiting for.

it doesn't help that a couple of times, when i've tried to relax about it, he's choked.  for instance, the other night he was in the bathtub and i was chewing on crushed ice from a cup (a pregnancy craving, i guess).  he likes ice too.  this evening in particular he was asking for pieces of ice and then watching what happened when they hit the water.  at first i was giving him tiny pieces, in case he stuck them in his mouth.  but after several pieces going straight into the bathwater i loosened the reigns.

bad move.

when he asked for another piece i gave him a larger piece so that it would last longer in the bathtub.  what did that child do, you ask?  plopped it straight into his mouth.

breath monica, i told myself, he's almost 2 years old, he chews on ice all the time.  

he's fine.  

you. need. to. chill.  

so i sat back and pseudo-relaxed while my little man sat there happily bathing and sucking on ice.  and then he gagged on it... the dirty rat.  just when i start to let go of my obsession he sucked me back in.

of course, he cleared it himself just fine and didn't even hardly wince.  i, on the other hand, was getting ready to pull out my iPhone and start searching for how-to videos on clearing ice from your toddlers throat.

he'll probably be the only kid in elementary school whose sandwich will fit in a tiny container instead of a ziplock bag because i will have cut it for him into small, bite size pieces.  not really... i mean, i actually let him eat a 1/2 of a sandwich this week without cutting it up.  i stood their in the kitchen admiring the mastery of his whole sandwich-eating-ability and patting myself on the back for being such a great mother.  he's so brilliant, i thought to myself.

but i'll still probably puree his raw vegetables.

just kidding... or am i?  :)

2.) my kitchen has to be clean when i go to bed.  i repeat... i can not go to sleep unless the kitchen is immaculate... well, that may be too strong of a word now that i have a child.  but even still, the dishes must be loaded (the correct way) into the dishwasher, hand washed items must be cleaned and on the drying rack, crumbs wiped off of the counters and tables and i would prefer that all of the days work, receipts, papers, etc. are tucked away.  i don't care whether you tuck them down your pants or put them where they belong... i just don't want to see them. (although this is why i have so many little baskets all over the place because my husband is the king of receipts and papers that i cannot get rid of).  i want the illusion of cleanliness.  it helps me to feel in control and able to handle what you throw at me.

the minute my kitchen gets "undone" i feel my soul start to itch and scratch.  i'm pretty sure my left eye twitches and i probably start giving the look to kjaer when i see him set things on the counter.  in fact, my high-metabolism man often eats an evening snack before going to bed and i just cannot understand how that certain dish can't make it into the dishwasher.  he sets it on the counter above the dishwasher... not in it.  when i see this, nearly every night, my blood boileth over.  i've tried to just quietly put it away or mention it in passing... but it's clearly not a quirk of his that he sees as very important because he just handsomely smiles at me and shrugs while he says i was going to take care of it later.  (i hate that word... later... blech).  and he probably has every intention of doing it later... but later has a different meaning to kjaer than it does to me.  later might mean tomorrow morning or three days from now.  but me... i want it done NOW (another quirk that will probably not make the top 5 cut).  

the kitchen is my domain. i am its ruler.  and it must be respected by all who enter.

3.)  number two reminds me of another thing that is quirky.  my house could have dust an inch thick on its furniture, floors that haven't been vacuumed in 2 weeks, laundry piles the size of everest... but if my kitchen and living room floors are swept i feel so. much. better.

i remember after i had leif one of my biggest frustrations was my house felt like it was falling apart.  i felt totally responsible for keeping it clean to my old standards (i think because i was home and not working).  these standards have sooo-ho-ho changed since b.b. (before baby) but i could not figure out how to balance cleaning with a brand new baby (and the increase leif brought in laundry, changing the sheets nearly every day because of my crazy milk supply, and just functioning in general!)  

one time, my mother in law had taken me to a doctors appointment (because i still couldn't drive).  when i got home i was a wreck.  i went to the bathroom and bled on our white bathroom rug and then i had to nurse leif, which at the time was like asking me to lead the entire nation in a prayer meeting.  i was very stressed out, sitting in the nursery trying to figure out how i could accomplish one thing that would make me feel better since everything else was a fiery disaster.   my mother in law had been kind enough to clean the blood off of the rug for me and she came in and asked if there was anything else she could do for me before she left. 

i couldn't help myself.  deep down i heard all of the wisdom of new-mothers-past whispering in my ears; when people ask what they can do for you, be honest and tell them what would help.

and yes, you guessed it...  i asked her to sweep my floors. 

i just knew if they were cleaner, i would feel better. 

and seriously, i could have kissed her feet for sweeping them. (still could)

she turned my whole day around with a broom and a dust pan.

i'm still so grateful for that kind gesture of hers.  she'll probably never understand what that meant to my fragile little self on that day.  

4.) strangely, in spite of kind gestures like that... i have a very hard time accepting help in any form from people.  some of this has to do with my control issues.  when leif was born people were helping by folding my towels and putting them away, folding his diapers and putting them away... just little jobs they thought i would appreciate.

and i really tried to appreciate them.

really... i did.

but nobody folds my towels and puts them away the way i do.  and only a handful of people know how to fold the diapers and stack them the way i like.  so, if you are kind enough to do these things for me, i'll appreciate your gesture... but i can only live a day or two before refolding and restacking these two items.  but don't worry too much, because i'll feel guilty the whole time.  i can feel my husband's eyes boring into the back of my neck as i busily refold things and i can hear him thinking they are just towels and diapers, woman!  let it go.  but i know he is very particular about other things like the exact cup he drinks from for each beverage he consumes, water spots on the bathroom sink and how to hang his clothes... so he can't be too hard on me.

the other reason i can't accept help is because i feel like i need to be independent all of the time.  i think this is a trait i've picked up on from my mom, because my dad travelled for work most of my life so she was responsible for everything.  just the other day i was getting stuff ready for my thirty-one mailing, working on washing and drying diapers, cleaning the kitchen (duh) and getting ready to leave for a lunch date with a dear friend of mine.  i already felt like a champ because i had asked for help (gasp) by seeing if kjaer could return something to costco he was unhappy with and pick up a few items there.  but i wanted to handle the rest... i was going to go to kinkos to run copies for my mailing, pick up more laundry soap (we have to buy a special kind for our diapers) and go to lunch.  kjaer very kindly took my copy and asked me how many copies he could make for me while i was out to lunch and i practically snatched it from his hands exclaiming i can do it, you don't have to. kjaer kind of stood there shell-shocked because he was just trying to be nice, after all, and here i was not letting him be nice to me.  i could tell from the look on his handsome brow that he couldn't understand why i wouldn't just accept his kind gesture and just let him help me out.

and then i found myself back peddling... copies are no big deal, i'll be going right by the kinkos store on the way home, blah, blah, blah.  but the whole time i was b.s.-ing i was thinking, what the heck is wrong with you?  you always complain how overwhelmed you are and here this man is trying to let you have an enjoyable afternoon with your friend while he shows his love for you by doing errands for you and watching leif.  

it's a sickness, i suppose.  very unhealthy.  

i definitely need to improve upon this before baby k2 arrives, because i'll need more help than ever and kjaer is my teammate.  

when i asked kjaer the other night about my quirks (because i was thinking about this blog) and i mentioned this one... he whole-heartedly agreed.  the speed in which his agreement came almost validated how bad i really must be.  

i'm working on it, people... really.

5) i'm terrified of antiperspirant and microwaves.  this has only developed in the last couple of years, i'm pretty sure because i witnessed the horrific cancer death of my father.  as i've walked away from that experience, much stronger and wiser in many ways... i've also walked away with several fears.  the biggest one being that i will get... or someone i love will (again) get... cancer.  if somebody i love has a weird sore or something weird going on (like when trooper was sick this summer) i go into crazy-cancer mode.  (just ask kjaer about the time he found me laying on troopers dog bed with him crying because i was sure he was dying of cancer... maybe i'll save that for another blog).

of course, i do the only logical thing... i blame it on antiperspirants and microwaves... even though there are sooooo many factors at stake (and clearly trooper doesn't wear deodorant... although his food IS by the microwave).  actually, i have to say i've always been a little teensy bit jumpy around microwaves.  that probably started back in the day of disney afternoons with my brothers after school.  we'd make snacks and watch tailspin and gummy bears while waiting for my aunt to come home to watch us.  one day i got the bright idea to microwave chocolate chips on a mound of peanut butter covered in tin foil.  apparently no one informed me about metal in microwaves.  well, a spark was thrown and i turned off the microwave faster than... well, i don't know... but fast enough that everyone and everything was ok.  when i called my mom at work to tell her of said spark, she quickly schooled me on microwave safety and probably breathed an audible sigh of relief that her daughter didn't burn down her house with her other more well behaved children inside.  

so ever since then i haven't trusted those things.  

when leif was born, my microwave conspiracy theory heightened.  every morning when i made my oatmeal before work, i would press start and take leif into another room... or at least scooch his high chair AWAY from that side of the room.  i'm particularly scared of kjaer's microwave i inherited through marriage, as it has the tendency to scorch something if you cook it the recommended way.  i have to cook it at reduced power (80%) for everything.  

i knew my aversion to microwaves had gone too far when i casually brought up said fear to my dear martha after dragging leif's high chair across the floor to nuke my coffee before leaving for work.  (see? we even say "nuke"... shouldn't that tell us all something?)  she kind of giggled at me.  then i proceeded to tell her i never prepared any of leif's food in the microwave.  i could tell she knew i was on board the crazy train when she asked if i prepared food for myself in the microwave and i responded... "well... yes..."  we both sort of laughed and i told her that in THIS particular case, it was better off left as "if i don't know about it, i won't care."  thereby giving her full reign of the microwave.  as long as we both understood that i didn't want to know because i knew i'd go a little crazy thinking about my little dudes brains getting "nuked".  

this is around the same time my armpits began to get sore in the lymph node region.  i'd sigh and toss and turn at night worrying that i had cancer of the armpits because of my deodorant. i'd google cancer findings on antiperspirant and scare the crap out of myself every time i'd read something else about it.  i'd rub my armpits and exclaim i had cancer to kjaer every day.  i couldn't understand why, when i went to buy kjaer's deodorant, HE could get it without antiperspirant and still smell like a dream by the end of the day... but the ENTIRE aisle of women's deodorant was antiperspirant ONLY.  i mean... i guess that just lends itself to the whole pressure of society on how perfect women have to be because they AREN'T EVEN ALLOWED TO PERSPIRE!  we started shopping for deodorant's without aluminum at health food stores, trying to find one that left me feeling as fresh as possible.  all i have to say about this endeavor is although my friends and family never said anything about my smell... i still felt not-so-fresh.  so i'd cheat and use my secret lavender which was chock full of aluminum and then spend all day worrying that i'd have cancer.  it was and is a vicious cycle.  

now that i work part time i wear my antiperspirant on days that i work and on days that i don't i use the crappy deodorant that doesn't work nearly as good as my husbands (don't ask me why) because usually on those days it's just him, leif and the people i run into at the grocery store who have to see me... and i don't know about you but they don't hug me when i pay for my groceries, so i'm ok with not smelling like a goddess on those days.  i still worry about my three days of using (sometimes 4), but figure that less exposure is better than 24/7 exposure.  

6.)  i have a terrible aversion to any sort of light after i've gone to bed.  i learned this after living with my dear husband... who wakes up in the middle of the night, goes out to the kitchen, turns on a light,  eats a bowl of cereal, comes back to bed and is back asleep in no time.  he does the same thing when he goes to the bathroom.  i mean, we're talking direct exposure to light, people!!  

i just can't even make sense of him!

i'd be laying in our dark room and the light in the kitchen would go on... i'd practically arch my back like a pissed off cat and hiss.  if light even touches my irises, i'm doomed.  i'm awake.  

for this reason alone, i mentally map out every environment i sleep in so that i can find my way to the bathroom, use said bathroom, and return back to bed without touching a single switch.  in some places (like my home) i've even done part of my bathroom trek with my eyes closed because of a nightlight or kitchen light that i thought was too offensive.  when leif was a newborn i could change his diaper in the dark or by light of a cell phone.  only on very rare occasions would i reach around the doorway into another room to turn that light on and close the door almost all of the way so that i could have a sliver of light to see with...  although, i would have fallen asleep standing up in broad daylight during those days as i was so exhausted.  don't know what i was so worried about.  it must be that it isn't even the falling back asleep factor, which sometimes plays a big part.  it's also just the sight of light when it's SUPPOSED to be dark.  it's just bad for business.  

i'm so bad that before leif was born, when kjaer would be going into our closet to get clothes early in the morning for himself he'd have to say "LIGHTS" and i would cover my head with a pillow until i heard the switch go off.  (he's up about an hour before me).  even now that kjaer and i have been living together for several years, he's so good at getting up and getting what he needs in the dark, shutting the door behind him and then turning the bathroom light on.  i still can manage to lay there, bothered by the light coming from under the doorway.  

the weirdest part about this is that i was terrified of the dark as a little girl.  in fact, i had to sleep with the hall light on until i was in the 8th grade.  is that even normal?  i always figured that most kids got over that fear earlier than i did.  

7.)  sometimes, when i run by myself... i count.  it's hard to explain and it's been such a long while since i've actually been able to run long enough to get into a rhythm (sigh)... but it's like i count my steps and breathing and how they synch up together.  it sounds, if i remember correctly, a little like one-un-un, two-oo-oo, three-ee-ee, one-un-un, two-oo-oo, three-ee-ee.  don't ask me to explain anymore... it gives me a rhythm, keeps my feet moving and my mind off of the work i'm doing.

well... there you have it.  my quirks.  those things you probably wouldn't know unless you were a fly on the wall. and yes, i realize that i originally wanted to tell you 5 but then the 6th and 7th ones sort of just jumped onto the page.  i can count, i just can't stop blabbering on about myself!   

but now i'm curious.

 i know we all have these little things others might find odd... so let me hear yours... if you dare. 

up high, down low...

awhile ago i told leif's birth story and eluded to a funny moment that happened while were were in the throws of my c-section.  as i've begun to mentally prepare for our second little love, i've been reflecting a lot on the birth of our first little love.

the other day i suddenly remembered a moment that made me smile so big... i just had to share it with you.

...but first i had to ask kjaer's permission.

it involves him.

and usually, i do this kind of embarrassing stuff.

so... without further adieu... because i got the green light...

about 15 minutes before leif came into this world, i was sitting terrified on a metal surgical table getting ready to receive my epidural.  inside i was feeling like a huge baby (not to be confused with having an actual real, HUGE baby inside of me) but on the outside i was basically dead quiet and wide-eyed. now, i'm not bragging or anything... but i didn't jump off of the surgical table, tuck my hospital gown around me and run out of the room screaming, "YOU CAN'T MAKE ME DO THIS!!!" even though that's totally what my brain wanted me to do.  i was already so conflicted.  i had wanted to have a natural, drug free childbirth but my doctor had basically said that once i went past 10 days of being overdue, i'd have to find someone else if i didn't take any action because the risks were just too high.  so my doctor, kjaer and i made the decision that if i wasn't in labor by day10... a scheduled c-section it would be on day 11.  (she had already told me that if she had induced me... which i didn't want anyway... i would have had an 85% chance of an emergency c-section... recovering from labor AND surgery?  no thanks!).

but once my giant, pregnant butt cheeks were on that cold table, i was seriously fighting the decision to have major abdominal surgery.  the only time i've ever undergone the knife was having my wisdom teeth removed.  so i'm not really experienced in this whole leaving-my-life-in-someone-else's-hands field.  i was shivering because of the fluids they were pumping into me and kjaer was probably starting to sense that his wife was about to go feral on everyone in there.

and can we just pause here to talk about how God has blessed me with a man who compliments me so well?  sometimes (though he would probably say more often than not), i can get a little stressed out.  the symptoms include my vocal volume increasing to the point of nearly shouting, rigid muscles and shifty eyes.  the day we got married, i was sent down the aisle too soon.  this would have been ok, except that i had a song playing in remembrance of my dad (it was originally supposed to be our father-daughter dance song) and had to stand up there facing kjaer and listen to the words, all the while wishing my dad had been the one walking me down the aisle and thinking about how we were supposed to be dancing to this song on this particular day.  i started to tear up and shake and kjaer read the moment perfectly.  he stared right into my eyes and started wiggling his nose at me, thereby saving the day.  i immediately calmed down, smiled and remembered how blessed i was to have a man who could read me so well... and though i had some tears in those eyes, they went from sadness to joy.

so... like i said... kjaer started to see the signs.

the anesthesiologist, Dr. Morris, was behind me, prepping me for the epidural (which, of course i'd heard horror stories about people still feeling the surgery because it was placed wrong, and my mother the nurse doesn't help with these stories because she HATES most anesthesiologists and has to deal with their messed up leftovers, etc.) kjaer stood in front of me as i sat on that table and pulled my arms up around his neck.  and then he just put his forehead against mine and began whispering to me in that low, sweet voice of his about our new baby and how i was going to be ok.  all the while, Dr. Morris was readying me for the moment of truth, commenting on how he loved when he saw the new dad's with the mom's and how awesome kjaer was.  right at that moment, the dr. put his hand out next to my body, as if to give kjaer a high five.

so naturally, kjaer gave the doctor a high five back.

silence.

Dr. Morris's hand comes up next to me again.

kjaer high fives him again and looks at me like, dude, what is up with this guy.

third and final time... the doctor's hand comes up and he says... "now monica, your back is straight like this (high five hand) but i need for you to curve it like this (curves his hand)."

kjaer puts his forehead back on mine and quietly whispered... while we both tried not to laugh too loud... "dude... i just totally high fived him... twice!"

and immediately my animal instincts stopped with the fight and flight junk, and i was ready to have my baby with my crazy, lovable husband.  and even though i was still scared to death, i knew i had a man who wasn't going to leave me...

a few minutes later, kjaer was happily announcing to me that we had a boy with his winning, handsome smile and laying leif on my chest to meet me.

the beauty of this is two fold.

one... i love how kjaer demonstrated such tenderness in a moment where i really questioned whether i would survive.  i mean... i knew the odds were that i would... but honestly, i was terrified i'd be one of those whacky c-section stories that you hear about from time to time.  he was my cool cucumber.

second... i love that we could still laugh when i know that at that moment we were both so scared.  scared of c-sections, scared of what being a parent was going to be like... just scared.  it seems like sometimes when we need those moments... God sends them to lighten the mood and remind us to take a breath, relax and enjoy our lives.

so while i'm hoping i can do a VBAC for round two... if i can't and have to undergo a scary c-section again, i'll be holding that man of mines neck again, shivering with fear but laughing on the inside as i remember the time my cool cucumber high fived the anesthesiologist!

leif's badge of honor...

my dear baby boy,

daddy and I have been talking to you about this for weeks... but you just look at us nonchalantly and go about your business of being our baby.  so, i'm writing a letter (that you can't even read yet) to tell you that...

you are going to love being a big brother.  

you have no idea how excited daddy and i are for you.  i mean, we're excited to welcome a new little love into our lives that we haven't met yet... obviously.  but we are also so excited for you and your new role...

big brother.

your daddy and i are both the oldest siblings in our families and it's a role that we have carried with distinguished pride over the course of our lives. i know your daddy loves nothing more than spending time with your uncle keir and uncle keian.  his fondest memories always have your uncles in them and to this day he is so proud of them and who they have become.

and i don't remember my life before my brothers.  some of my earliest memories consist of when they were born. they are foggy, but they are there.  i remember oma and opa saying that uncle keith had hair as red as a fire engine when he was born.  and i remember opa waking me up one early morning in june and asking me what i thought of the name "grant" for your uncle grant.  but i don't remember life before those two boys.  

as we grew up together, they were my partners in crime.  i always felt a sense of responsibility when they were with me.  perhaps it was because i felt like i needed to help take care of them because they were littler.  but they were also my best playmates.  the neighborhood kids... they could be a little questionable.  my brothers didn't know cuss words or other bad stuff my parents didn't want us to talk about... so they were always safe and fun to be around.

most of my favorite memories with them took place in our backyard or our basement... our two main stomping grounds.  we would play "leaf war" and build crazy forts out of old cardboard boxes and junk your opa and oma were OK with us using.  we would run around and throw leaves at each other like it was going out of style.  your uncle keith would wear some camouflage pants just like an army guy with this light blue summer camp shirt.  he didn't really match, but none of us cared.  he was, like, the real deal.  we'd put on epic christian rock concerts, too.  we'd perch on top of an old door in the basement that we had unsteadily balanced on something.  uncle keith would be the lights and sound tech person with an old garage lamp your opa had and a boombox.  i can't remember what uncle grant's job was... i probably forced him to assist your uncle keith.  i would prance around the "stage" singing my heart out as amy grant... ultra cool christian rock singer.  i always made your uncle keith pretend he was michael w. smith and uncle grant i forced to be steven curtis chapman.

looking back, i suppose i could be a little bossy sometimes...

perhaps it comes with the territory...

although i don't think your daddy was that way with your uncle keian and uncle keir.

as we got older, the boys stayed playmates and i grew into a role of the "older sister."  i'd watch your uncles when we got home from school... making after school snacks for them like graham crackers and frosting or spoons of peanut butter with chocolate chips scattered on top.  we'd watch "disney afternoon" and sometimes i would start dinner for them... macaroni and cheese and hamburger helper were my specialties.  your oma always said i did a great job of caring for them, and i've always felt a great sense of pride in this.  your opa travelled over the road for weeks at a time and oma worked evenings... so often i was the one caring for them until our aunt marlene came when she was done with work.  i always look back on those afternoons with fondness.  we had so much fun watching cartoons together and playing in the living room.  we lived in our own little bubble and we were completely happy there.

when middle and high school came, i was more concerned about myself than my brothers i suppose.  i think it comes as a price with that age.  of course i always loved them dearly, but i was more concerned about making friends outside of my family.  and so i did.  but i never stopped loving that role i had.  i would drive them to and from school in my car that backfired every time i shifted from 2nd gear into 3rd and i'd listen to non-Christian radio... which was a no-no.  i can't remember if they ever told on me.  but they remembered that i wasn't following house rules... they just reminded me of it the other day.

when college came, they'd sometimes drive up to ft. collins to see me.  i wish i had spent more time with them during that time of my life.  they were growing up into young men and i was off doing my own thing.  i think i was often ashamed because i was rebellious at the time.  i didn't want them to figure me out for the phony i was.  i probably would have spent more time with them if my heart had been in the right place with God.  but i'm sure this is also pretty typical of most sibling relationships during this phase of life and i think they forgave me a long time ago for being absent so much.

after college i did something that most people don't do these days... i bought a condo with your uncle keith and we lived together.  to be honest, he was the best roommate a gal could've asked for... no girl drama... well, except for mine.  during that time he and i became friends.  by now he towered over me by at least a foot.  he'd joke and call me his "little" sister.  uncle grant and i became closer too.  he developed the same passion for music that i had and we'd trade mixed cd's and talk music all of the time.  something was shifting in our relationship.  i was no longer "the boss" (which i think i always secretly thought i was).  i was becoming their friend.  we were all young adults trying to figure out life together.  during this time we started a decade long tradition of sunday dinners at your oma and opa's house.  i'd find myself still helping oma with dinner and dishes, like when we were kids, while the boys and your opa would sit out back on the deck or watch tv.  we'd laugh over ice cream smothered with magic shell and talk hours after the table had been cleared.  not many families do that any more and i was so blessed to have that island of time where we were just "us" again.

after your opa died, it was incredible to watch the shift in your uncles.  suddenly i felt like they were the older siblings... like twin older brothers or something.  they took care of your oma and her house. they made sure that when a snowflake hit her driveway that she was shoveled out.  and they also made sure to mow her lawn for her every few weeks.  they did this on top of their careers and responsibilities.  they had both met your aunties and were beginning to take the next step in their lives, but they never failed to step up as the men of the house for your oma.  i've never been more proud.  it was probably during this period of life where i realized a greater shift in our relationship too.  i realized that my brothers took pride in taking care of me.  they checked in on me constantly always made sure i was well cared for.  it was like they were my big brothers.

to this day i take such great pride in watching your uncles as they grow older.  it's so cool to watch who they have become, what they choose to do with their careers and welcome your aunties and cousins that they love so much into the family.  even though we don't meet for sunday dinners as often as we used to, when we do it's lovely to see the loyal, kind and compassionate men that they have become.  sometimes, after they leave, i just sit around thinking about how cool they have become and how blessed i am to be their "little" big sister.

leif, what i'm trying to say is that you will never imagine the blessing that this new brother or sister with be in your life.  but one day, 33 years from now, you will look back over your childhood and young adulthood and realize that one of the most important relationships in your life was born in February of 2014.  there will be times you get annoyed with him or her.  there will be times they get you in trouble or say something that will make you angry.  there will be arguments over new toys in the house or who gets mommy or daddy's attention.  there will even be times you have to sacrifice something cool just so your little brother or sister can have it because they're younger.  but those little things are far outweighed by the playtimes after school, the long hours spent in your rooms building forts and living in imaginary worlds, vacations, and spending time with me and daddy.

i just know that you are going to be an amazing big brother.  you will be determined, loyal, protective, opinionated and perhaps a little bossy... a trait you inherited from your mama.  but you will love him or her with passion and you will find he or she will become one of your lifelong best friends.

so congratulations, my little one.  you are a big brother... and daddy and i know you are going to a fabulous one, at that.

love,
mama

all of the above...

about a month ago i found myself leif-less and happily wandering the aisles of party city looking for elmo decorations. i stood there debating whether i should buy the dinner napkins AND the dessert napkins since we planned on keeping it low profile this year... and then chucking them both into my basket mentally exclaiming that he only turns 1 once and besides... we are going to have a small party.

so what's a few napkins, cups and party hats?  right?

well, forty dollars later i found myself still justifying the expenditure because i still believe he only turns one once... and besides, we can use the leftovers on #2 one day.

the funny thing is it still hadn't really hit home that our little man is turning one.

i don't think it actually hit home until about a week later... when he went from taking a few drunken sailor steps between kjaer and i... to walking across a room while my back was turned.  the change came almost instantaneously.

we had been watching leif happily totter between us, the previous two weeks, while we clapped and cheered.  never once did it occur to me that the shift from this stage would be so rapid.  one night we eyeballed him carefully as he swayed back and forth between his two home bases, the next night we watched him walk from the kitchen to the living room, pausing briefly to let the dog pass.

kjaer and i basically exchanged a look that said, "well crap... that went by fast."

and the i realized that his first year has passed and the kid is sprinting into his future.

a year ago this month i was laying in a hospital bed, three sets of stitches in my guts, holding the sweetest smelling creature you could have ever met and wondering what had just happened to us.

don't get me wrong... i knew i was going to have a baby the whole time.  but when that sweet boy was laying in my arms i felt so incapable and insecure, so wild with love yet scared to death.  i wasn't really sure exactly what was down the road for us all.  all i knew was my little snow globe of life had been turned up-side-down and i was desperately trying to reorient myself to this new life we had started.

looking back, i have many sweet memories clouded by my senseless hormone laden brain.  there were some dark moments in those first few weeks too... brought on by a mild case of post-partem (it's definitely a real thing folks) and a severe lack of sleep.  i remember people cooing to me, "isn't motherhood just the most amazing thing?  isn't it so hard to picture life without him?" and staring blankly back at their (horrified) faces because i could still so clearly remember my un-responsible days before him... you know... when i used to sleep.  of course i loved him fiercely, but i was learning just how much work being a new mother was and i was totally unprepared for the initiation i got.  plus, we had issues... breastfeeding issues that took about 2 or 3 months to iron out... so on top of feeling like i was going to starve my helpless newborn babe, i was constantly stressed about things i never even knew existed before leif... like the mysterious latch and nipple shields.

those first few months were wonderful and stressful.  i'll tell you one thing, maternity leave was amazing and when i had to leave him at 3 1/2 months old to go back to work, i understood why switzerland gives its mothers a year of leave.  mama's are supposed to be with their babies.  at least THIS mama.  i can vouch for this because i have the best daycare provider/situation in the entire world (a.k.a. martha) and i still want to be with leif.  i have been brave all year as i've gone off to work every morning putting on my happy working mom face when i'd rather crawl back into bed with my warm little potato and change his diapers all day. i sometimes find myself staring over 2nd graders heads at the clock and counting hours until i can be home with my little family.

during the first few months of leif's life, he won me over every day.  the kid was irresistible.    sometimes i look back at the tiny little photos i sent kjaer from my phone (when he had to go back to work) and i realize how crazy i was about him even though i was struggling so much to find my bearings.  i would spend hours staring at him and trying to catch the right look on my phones crappy camera to share with his daddy while dressing him up in clothes that were too big for him because i couldn't wait for him to wear his brown corduroy cargo pants.  i remember kjaer returning from the outside world and feeling a little like the crazy mama's you see in the movies... hair all askew, talking about oprah... only i was talking about leif and my milk supply.  i'm sure those vows kjaer said not so long ago were scrolling through his head as he looked at this lunatic and wondered where his sweet wife went.

but then, the haze lifted.  i don't know what happened, but as i connected with my babe over the next few months it became quite obvious to me that i couldn't picture life without him anymore... i could remember it... kind of... but i didn't want it anymore.  even now those days seem so far behind me.  

now i sit here, my toddler happily sleeping upstairs, wondering where exactly all of those first few months went.  what happened to that sweet little baby who'd lay on his playmat and kick, kick, kick his legs?  or... remember when i could sit him up at a spot somewhere and he'd be there when i got back?  ahhhh.... those were the days.  the days before movement.  

i find myself staring at different pictures from a few months ago and realizing that it was taken back before he was even crawling.  and now i have a full blown walker on my hands... a mere few months later.  where did that tiny little baby go?

which leads me to the next burning question... what will he be doing 4 months from now?  

my friends, i'm new at this.  everything for me has been a little bit of dipping my toes in the water, splish-splashing a bit and then slowly wading in to ankle deep water.  i have that new mama feeling where i want to make every right decision and not just dive in and make mistakes.  don't get me wrong, i think i'm relaxed in most aspects when it comes to leif... my dearest friends and family have permission to slap me silly if i'm not... but i'm not exactly the most confident at times.  there are days when i drag myself into bed and wonder if i'll fail at this.  but most days i watch my amazing husband love on our son and see all that i've accomplished that seemed so daunting a mere 12 months ago and i think...

i've got this.

and i'll tell you why... by the grace of God, an amazing partner in crime (props to the hubs), the endless support of friends and family and one incredible, irresistible kid.  i'm sure there are many triumphs and tribulations ahead...  

but i tell you... with all of the above, we're home free.  

gestures of love...

this week marks 3 years of marriage to my sweet babboo... and over 8 years of dating him.  i can safely say that we've been together for awhile.  it's strange to have 8 y.e.a.r.s. roll off of my tongue and still feel as happy and satisfied as i did when we first started dating... though our love has continued to grow and change over time.

i started writing this blog last month with hopes to post it on valentines day.  but these days... everything takes longer than i think it should.  i'm constantly behind the times (i just sent out thank you notes for some things leif received at christmas time and it's MARCH for goodness sakes!)  so enjoy the fruits of my february labour of love... and the additions that came to it for our anniversary.

valentines day...

i remember always walking around the halls of my high school or church with a wistful longing that some fetching young lad would approach me and profess his undying love and devotion to me... with a handful of roses, of course.  

but it never happened.  

i was just never one of those cool cats.  

you know the ones... the girls who left school on valentine's day afternoon with a hauling of loot from the boys (or A boy).  they'd trapse out of school, carting their vases and balloons, sharing their chocolates with their friends, all with the promise of a wonderful date that evening with their admirer.

me?  

i'd go home, sulk... and drown my sorrows in a box of conversation hearts my mom lovingly set at my place at the table.

and then i'd sigh and think... maybe next year.

now that i'm older and wiser, i know that dudes absolutely hate valentines day... especially my dude... and that the last thing most of them wanted to do was profess their awkward love to some sappy girl on february 14th.  

when i started dating kjaer, i learned that valentines day was just another day to him... and that a man who really loves you makes lots of celebrations of love for you throughout the year.  kjaer has spent the last 8 years of our lives showing me he's loved me by making these gestures in a quieter, less hallmark-y way.

the early days... kind of (2007)

you see, kjaer and i had been friends for about a year and a half before we ever even considered dating.  when we did start dating, it was because there was suddenly an explosion of chemistry that just couldn't be contained.  we had started hanging out quite a bit outside of work.  one december afternoon he walked oh-so-casually down the hall (i always loved watching him saunter) and asked me if i'd like to wake up in the middle of the night and watch a meteor shower with him.  his first grand gesture of many.

here's how you know we were young:

1) we would be meeting at 2 am

2) it was a "school" night (ie - we worked the next day)

i tried not to let him know that i was the least bit excited and very casually said, "sure."

he told me he'd call me and wake me up.

i'd never been so excited in my little boy-adoring life.  here was this handsome guy asking me to rendez-vous in the middle of the night to watch stars, for crying out loud!!!  

AND IT WASN'T EVEN VALENTINE'S DAY!!!!!

when he called to wake me up around 1:30 or so, he glumly explained that the skies were overcast.  "BUT," he told me,  "we have options."  we could go back to sleep or hope that the skies cleared by the time we got out to our viewing spot.  

probably a level-headed person would've said, "oh well, that's too bad." and have gone back to bed.  

but not us. 

we decided to hope for a miracle and i hopped into my car to meet him.  (though i'm sure there was plenty of primping but only enough to make me look like i rolled out of bed beautiful).  when i got to kjaer's he had made a thermos of hot chocolate (!) and had his old jeep cherokee packed with blankets and a telescope.  he ushered me into his car and we took off into the cloudy, blackness of night.  

he drove me out to a desolate field, set up the telescope, cracked open the thermos, wrapped us up in blankets and then we settled in to wait for the stars to emerge from behind the clouds.  while we waited, we talked and scooted closer to each other.  

we waited the entire night for that meteor shower... and it never did make its grand appearance.  but something was ignited on that chilly, fateful night.  the next morning, i found myself rubbing sleep out of my starry eyes while trying to teach a room of 30 second graders.

and i tell you,  i just could not get that boy out of my head.

as the weeks went on, kjaer and i dabbled a little more with the idea of not just being friends... until finally a few weeks later... that handsome man kissed me.   it was the night before christmas eve... affectionately called christmas eve's eve from then on. ( i used to make kjaer celebrate this date as our genisis.  each year he'd call me... and i could tell it was to appease me... to wish me a merry christmas eve's eve.  i appreciated the gesture.  that man knows how to float my boat.)

needless to say, when february rolled around a few months later, i was quite excited to have my own real valentine.  it still felt a little awkward... it was like we were the best of friends who kissed too much and couldn't stop holding hands.  ahhhh.... young love.  but i'll never forget our first valentine's day.  he had just bought his house (now our house) several months prior.  it was a hud home that had been refinished in the saddest way by contractors.  he had purchased it and was in the process (which turned out to be a 2 year process) of gutting and refinishing it himself with the help of his family.  we'd often meet over there early in our relationship to hang out, kiss a little and dream of his bachelor pad.  he'd tell me with great big sweeping gestures which walls would be torn down and where new ones would go, how he'd do this or that to it.  i'd gaze at him in amazement (i still do when i think of all he's done with it) and trip over myself because i was so crazy about him.

so on that first valentine's day he invited me up to the roof of his house for an evening picnic.  we'd spent a lot of time up there already, bundled under blankets (must've been a pretty mild winter that year) watching stars.  so i met him there.  we climbed up the ladder to our perch on the northwest corner, he pulled out our dinner (sub sandwiches and potato chips) and we stayed up there for hours talking, laughing... and probably too much kissing again.  he told me he'd build an observation deck for us, so that our things wouldn't roll off of the roof and we could relax up there.

i still think he plans on building that...

all of this rambling is to say that my man has the most extraordinary ways of showing me he loves me.  he's quieter than most men and he thinks my loud gestures of adoration a tad bit goofy... though i know they are endearing to him.  but he has spent the last 8 years creating countless moments of love that have never been initiated by a greeting card company.  and though he made me a nice dinner on valentine's day this year... its the other 364 days with him that prove to me that i'm undoubtedly loved.

like how he makes me peanut butter french toast every saturday morning while i read aloud from our novel, how he listens to me when i cry and get a teensy bit hysterical over nothing (generally speaking), how he sometimes gets my coffee ready for me while i nurse leif before work (3 tbsp of amaretto cream and 1 tsp of sugar), how he makes me a juice packed full of fruits and veggies everyday for a snack at work, how i find my windows scraped on cold mornings when he's left 1/2 an hour before me.  how he sends me songs and emails throughout the day to let me know he's thinking of me.  how he feeds and waters trooper, even though trooper used to be one of the hardest parts about me to accept.  how he has quietly held me in his strong arms through the happiest and saddest seasons of my life.  how he is constantly compromising his hopes and dreams to make sure that he and i (and our family) are rock solid for years to come.  and how he strives to be a wonderful husband and father each and every day.

his kind of love doesn't show up in the form of roses and chocolate (though he has gotten me flowers a few times... which always emits shrieks of giddy pleasure from me... my old high school self feeling vindicated!) and that's the way i like it.  i'd rather have him romancing me the way he does best... not how the world tells him to do it.

it reminds me a little of the reading from our wedding.... 

"If the old fairy-tale ending "They lived happily ever after" is taken to mean "They felt for the next fifty years exactly as they felt the day before they were married," then it says what probably never was nor ever would be true, and would be highly undesirable if it were. Who could bear to live in that excitement for even five years? What would become of your work, your appetite, your sleep, your friendships? But, of course, ceasing to be "in love" need not mean ceasing to love. Love in this second sense-love as distinct from "being in love"—is not merely a feeling. It is a deep unity, maintained by the will and deliberately strengthened by habit; reinforced by (in Christian marriages) the grace which both partners ask, and receive, from God. They can have this love for each other even at those moments when they do not like each other; as you love yourself even when you do not like yourself. They can retain this love even when each would easily, if they allowed themselves, be "in love" with someone else. "Being in love" first moved them to promise fidelity: this quieter love enables them to keep the promise. It is on this love that the engine of marriage is run: being in love was the explosion that started it."

-- C. S. Lewis

when i reread these words, i feel a healthy sense of pride in the man my husband is.  he is a man of devotion, kindess and has a deep sense of commitment.  a man who understands that our love changes and grows, but it never ceases... and like a garden, it requires constant tending.  i'm so thankful that God has blessed me with him and that he is the head of our family.  

last night kjaer and i celebrated our three years together by going out to dinner where we had our wedding reception and then walking over to the hotel where we promised our lives to each other.  the sage room was set up for a brunch the next morning and vacant, so i dragged him in there, right up to the front where we had said those vows 36 months ago.  

i could feel my heart beating wildly as i nervously looked him straight in the eye, grabbed both of his hands and i said those vows to my valentine again.  because my man deserves grand gestures too.  and if i've learned anything over the course of our love story, it's that loving each other and telling the other so, will never be in vain.  

so... i'll say it every year, just like i did at the end of our wedding.

kjaer...

"if my heart was a compass, you'd be north."

i love you as big as the moon and beyond...

and i'm so glad we have a lifetime of valentine's days... and un-valentine's days... ahead of us.