"I DO"

Twenty-one years ago today I married the man of my dreams.

 

It was a beautiful sunny day that day with temperatures reaching the mid-70s.  My daddy took me out for breakfast before we got ready to go to the church and he said to me, "The Lord made this day just for you."

It was a wonderful day!

The guest list totaled 507 and a little over 400 people attended.

I know...that's a lot of people!  Large families, lots of out-staters and long-time small town can result in not knowing where to stop the guest list.

And most of those people came offering much more than congratulations and looking forward to a good party after the wedding ceremony. 

See, Scott had been through a lot in the months leading up the wedding, having a cancer diagnosis and surgery seven months prior to the wedding and a repeat of both of those six weeks prior to the wedding.  We were looking at months of chemotherapy just two weeks after saying our vows.

I say "most of those people" because something happened the week of the wedding that I didn't learn about until a few years later.

My mom is a daily church-goer, going to Mass most every morning.  Earlier that week of our wedding she was coming out of church after attending morning Mass when an elderly woman my parents had known for years approached her and said, "Isn't your daughter getting married on Saturday?"

Mom replied happily, "Yes, she is!  We're so excited and looking forward to the day!"

The elderly woman snapped back, "Well!  I don't know how you can possibly allow your daughter to marry into such a horrible situation!"

My mom was confused and asked the woman what she meant by this.

The woman responded, "Allowing her to marry a man who is so ill and starting their lives together in such a way.  I just don't think it's right!"

My mom fumbled for some sort of answer and when she finally got in her car, she cried.

How could this woman be so incredibly mean?

Well...like I said...I found out about this years later, after this woman had passed on, and was just as shocked by it as my mom was, especially since I had always considered her such a kind lady.  It's funny to think that many of her adult children, who were friends and in the same social circle as my parents, had attended our wedding!

I'm not sure why this woman was so critical and felt the need to express it to my mom.  It's really not important.

If only this woman knew that twenty-one years later Scott and I would be still doing life together...with two amazing kids to add to the joy of the journey.  The challenges we faced early on and then throughout our marriage certainly were difficult...but with each one we grew stronger in our commitment to each other, to our family and to God. Had it not been for those challenges, I wouldn't be where I am today as a wife, a mother, a woman and certainly in my faith.

I won't lie and say that I haven't often wondered why God chose me to be Scott's wife and mother to Parker and Faith.  I've wondered this more times that I can possibly count.

But then one day recently, while loading the dishwasher and not even pondering this question, God revealed the answer to me loud and clear..."I didn't chose you to be Scott's wife and Parker and Faith's mom.  I chose them for you...so you would know me."

Oh if only that woman could see us all these years later.

I wonder if she would ask the same question she asked my mom 21 years ago on their way out of church?

Wishing you a peaceFULLYsimple day.

peace.
jeanine

ARE YOU LOST?

I was running errands today, one of which was grocery shopping at Target.  I was nearly done and waiting for my items at the meat counter when a little boy slam-dunked something into a trash can in the produce section.  It made me smile as I saw a Target employee throw her hands in the air and cheer, "Two points!"  I was nearing the end of my shopping when I realized I was missing an item on my list.  Of course this item was towards the back of the store and I was in the front of the store so I made my way back to find it.

That's when I saw little "slam-dunk" boy looking around and saying, "Mom?  Mooooommmmm?"

Me:  "Did you lose your mom?"
Slam-Dunk nodded his head.
Me:  "Would you like me to help you find her?"
Slam-Dunk nodded his head again.
Me:  "What is your mom wearing?"
Slam-Dunk:  "Well...she, she, um...she has dark hair and she has brown eyes."

At this point Slam-Dunk had pretty much won me over with his cuteness but then only scored more points by knowing the color of his mom's eyes.

Me:  "What is your mom's name?"
Slam-Dunk told me her name.

Me:  "Okay...well let's see if we can find her.  By the way...are you the one that just made an awesome slam dunk over in the produce section?"

Slam-Dunk nodded that yes, it was him.

Me:  "It was a good shot."
Slam-Dunk:  "Thanks."

Me:  "Let's go back to produce since that's where I saw you just a couple of minutes ago and we'll see if we can find your mom there."
Slam-Dunk:  "K."

We arrived in the produce area and his mom wasn't there.  I saw the Target employee who cheered Slam-Dunk's shot into the trash can and said, "We have a missing mom.  Can you help us?"

She took us to Customer Service and had them page the little boy's mom which took a few minutes since they were busy with customers.

Me:  "I'll stay here with you until your mom comes back if you want me to.  We can sit here on the floor and wait together."
Slam-Dunk:  "K."
Me:  "So how old are you?"
Slam-Dunk:  "Five."
Me:  "FIVE?  Are you in kindergarten?"
Slam-Dunk (now relaxing a little more and starting to get more into the conversation):  "NO!  I'm still in preschool."
Me:  "Preschool is good.  What kinds of things do you learn in preschool?"
Slam-Dunk:  "Well...I learn about God and Jesus."

Okay...seriously...this kid is stealing.my.heart.

Me:  "That's awesome!  So will you be in kindergarten next year?"
Slam-Dunk:  "Yep."

He looked up, saw his mom coming toward him and jumped to his feet to run to her.  She looked relieved...but I could tell he was going to be in a little bit of trouble for wandering off.  I felt bad for him but was happy to see him back with his mom.

As they walked away I said, "Hey...good luck next year in kindergarten."

Slam-Dunk:  "K.  Thanks!"

His mom smiled.

I hope they enjoyed the rest of their day together.

When I got home I unloaded groceries and as I was putting everything away I was counting the minutes until my own kids would be home.  Home is much better when everyone is in it.

Wishing you a peaceFULLYsimple day.

peace.
jeanine

WRITE EVERY DAY

~ Yesterday ~
The conversation went something like this:

PS (inquiring look):  "You haven't been writing."
Me:  "Yeah...I know.  It's been a while."
PS:  "A writer once told me that a writer needs to write something every day."
Me:  "Yes.  Okay.  Well...just so you know...in my head I am constantly writing.  In the car on my way here today I wrote several different things."

Writing.

I love to write.

LOVE.IT.

So why don't I?

What's holding me back?

Hmmm...

What IS holding me back?

Um...nothing.

Nothing is holding me back.

Except...maybe...me.

I need to stop that holding back stuff.

I need to start writing again...

. . .

Hey...whatta ya know...I just did.


Wishing you a peaceFULLYsimple day.

peace.
jeanine

WHY I SECRETLY DON'T LIKE THANKSGIVING

I'm not a fan of Thanksgiving.

Unfortunately, that feeling has started extending into Christmas, too.

Probably not for the reasons you might be thinking though...that I'm just grumpy, "Scroogie" and an all around bah-humbug-stick-in-the-mud.

I have wonderful memories of the holidays...Thanksgiving through Christmas...from when I was a child.  My mother turned our house into a Christmas wonderland.  There were family celebrations with both my dad's and my mom's sides of the family.  I have lots of aunts and uncles and cousins.  My maternal grandparent's house was always full to the brim.  There is a photograph that comes to mind of a grandpa and grandpa's living room at the farm packed full of cousins (babies up to young adults), the Christmas tree in the back and everyone waiting to exchange gifts.  If I close my eyes I can smell all the delicious food cooking in the tiny little kitchen.  No one minded the lack of space and if it was nice outside most of kids were playing in the barn, outside exploring or climbing trees. My dad's side of the family has always known how to throw a good party.  Always.  I was the youngest of all the cousins on dad's side so I didn't always fit in with all the "big kids" but it was still okay.

Good times.

Great memories.

When Scott and I got married things got a little more complicated.  Our early years of marriage were spent dividing and conquering.  Thanksgiving was the most difficult since it was only a "one day holiday".  We had dinner with one side of the family and dessert with the other side of the family.  Our first Thanksgiving together we started early out early in the morning driving 265 miles from place to place to place, ending up back home that night.  We didn't have kids so it worked.  Christmas was a little easier...Christmas Eve was with one side, Christmas Day with the other.

But then Parker came along and it went past complicated...but it still managed to work out.

It wasn't until ten years ago...Thankgiving 2003...that we finally said, "Enough!" and our whole perspective about the holidays...Thanksgiving through Christmas...changed.  Here's why:

Faith was born just five weeks and three days earlier and had been in the hospital that entire time.  She had already been under anesthesia several times for her retinal cancer, both eyes receiving multiple rounds of heavy laser treatments and she had received her first two rounds of chemotherapy.  After what seemed like five months instead of five weeks, we were finally able to bring our sweet baby girl home.  Parker, who was just shy of five at the time, was SO excited to finally have his baby sister home and to get to know her without the surroundings of the neonatal intensive care unit, doctors, nurses and machines.  I remember Scott saying many times, "I can't wait to have our whole family home and all under one roof."

Faith came home on November 25, 2003.

Thanksgiving was on November 27, 2003.

That year we made the decision...firmly...that we appreciated the Thanksgiving invitations, but we were bowing out.  We would be spending the day at home...JUST THE FOUR OF US, thank you very much!

We completely bucked tradition that day.  No turkey...because turkey is okay, but not necessarily our favorite.  No stuffing or mashed potatoes or gravy or cranberries or green bean casserole or all the other over-indulgent Thanksgiving menu items.

Instead we made our absolute favorite...pizza.  Homemade pizzas.

We stayed in lounging clothes all day.

And we got to know ourselves as a family.

Parker held his baby sister as often as he could.  He laid next to her on a blanket on the floor and played with her little fingers and toes and talked to her like any good big brother would.  He asked to be allowed to give her bottles.  In his words, he "took good care."

And Scott and I sat back and watched the miracle of our family finally beginning at home.

It was the most content and beautiful holiday we have ever had because every.single.second. of that day was full of "true" thanksgiving...hearts over-flowing for all the blessings God had given us.  In the midst of all the pain that cancer brings...there was absolute pure joy and thanks for all the things cancer hadn't taken away.



What it boils down to is that ten years ago we experienced a Thanksgiving like none-other.  One that set aside the post-card perfect world and welcomed in the "raw-this-isn't-what-we-expected-but-my-goodness-don't-we-have-much-to-be-thankful-for" kind of Thanksgiving.  We experienced a Thanksgiving that raised the bar...and hasn't been met since.

But every year Scott and I say..."Someday...  Someday we will escape for the five beautiful days of Thanksgiving...just the four of us all under one roof."

My hope is that roof is just steps away from a warm beach...but we'll work on logistics when "someday" actually arrives.

Wishing you a peaceFULLYsimple day.

peace
jeanine

PURPOSE

Happy Monday, everyone!

Yep...Monday.  Here's how mine started:

Pre-8 AM...Faith says she has a tummy ache and isn't feeling well.  She's home for the day.  Dropped Parker off at school.  Came home to discover that one four-legged one had puked in the living room.  Soon discovered that another four-legged one (most likely the same one that visited the living room) pooped upstairs.

yay

Got one snuggled in for the day.  Cleaned up the "presents" in the living room and upstairs.  Sorted dirty clothes and started a load of laundry.  Emptied the dishwasher.  Put breakfast dishes in the dish washer.  Called my mom and dad to let them know they would not be seeing me at the Veteran's Day program at the high school.

All by just shortly after 8 AM.

And to think I wonder some days what my purpose is.

Silly me.

But then I sat down to ready my daily devotional.  Here's what it said:

I honor my commitment to sacred service.

Jesus brought a message of supreme importance to the world.  He taught about the power of love and about God as our indwelling, loving father.  Even though delivering that message cost him hi s life, Jesus stood by his convictions.  His message still lives today in our hearts and minds.

In following the example of our Master Teacher, I desire to live a life of great purpose.  I commit to living a God-centered life, and I honor that commitment through sacred service.  I serve in joy, sharing my unique gifts and talents in ways that honor God, my family, and all people.  I am honored by loving God and blessed by keeping my sacred commitments.

Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also.  Whoever serves me, the Father will honor.  ~ John 12:26

Well...there you go.

Serve in joy...share my gifts and talents in ways that honor God, my family and all people.  I am honored by loving God...blessed by keeping my sacred commitments.

Purpose.

My purpose.  I like it.

It's not grand.

It's not fancy.

But I like it.

It brings me joy.

Not joy in the fact that my daughter isn't feeling well...as is obviously one of the dogs...but joy in the fact that God has blessed me with each one of them and that it's my privilege to serve them.  That my talents and gifts...and my love...can be used in ways that honor them, the rest of my family, my friends, strangers and God.

Now...if you'll excuse me...I need to swap out laundry and make sure my sweet girl gets some extra-special lovin'.

Wishing you a peaceFULLYsimple...and purpose-filled day.

peace
jeanine

TEN YEARS - PART 2

(You can get up-to-date with today's post by clicking here TEN YEARS)

TEN YEARS - PART 2

It was ten years ago this past Sunday, October 20, that this sweet little girl entered the world.

Faith Marie Johnson made her anticipated, but six-week early arrival.
She arrived at 3:19 PM and weighed 5 pounds, 6 ounces.

She was beautiful.

One of the first things I noticed about her was her delicate little features.  So dainty.  So very tiny.


Being in the hospital for a couple of weeks had given me much to much time to think about things.  One of the things that had me troubled was what if I didn't have enough love to go around?

As soon as our little girl arrived that fear of not having "enough" disappeared and I realized that God was overflowing my heart with an abundance of love...plenty to go around...with more for good measure!

Tears of joy flowed from my eyes.

Once we were able to we called home.  My parents were staying with Parker and they knew that no one...absolutely NO ONE...would know what sex the baby was until Parker found out first.  My mom answered and immediately handed the phone to Parker.

We told him he had a baby sister and her name was Faith Marie.

We could hear him say to my parents, "I have a sister!  I have a sister!"  My mom said he just kept walking around the house saying, "I have a sister!  I can't believe I have a sister!"

More joy and tears.

Soon they would be bringing Parker to the hospital...and again...no one...absolutely NO ONE...was allowed to meet Faith until Parker met her first.

It was getting late in the day so they got Parker dressed in his PJs knowing he would most likely fall asleep in the car on the way home.

When they arrived at the hospital, we were waiting for our little guy and after showering him with hugs and kisses, brought him to meet his new baby sister.

Here is there first meeting...Parker in his dinosaur PJs and Faith with ink still fresh on her teeny-tiny little feet:

Now lets jump ahead to ten years ago today...October 22, 2003.

Faith was two days old.

I was scheduled to go home later that day but because Faith was six-weeks premature we knew she would be in the hospital for approximately two more weeks.

It was bittersweet for me.  Wanting to get home after spending over two weeks in the hospital myself.  Wanting to get home to Parker who had been bounced around while I was gone.  But I wanted to stay with my baby, too.  I didn't want to go home without her.

I told myself that two weeks would go quickly and soon our family would all be under one roof.

The morning of October 22 I was anxious to get to the neonatal intensive care unit (NICU) to be with Faith.  I couldn't wait to hold her, rock her, nurse her, change her, smell her...take in every little tiny little thing about her before heading home and not seeing her until the next day.

Nursing her was a challenge.  It wasn't the easiest task for me to accomplish in the first place (I made it two weeks with Parker until finally moving on to bottle feeding)...but I really wanted to make sure I gave it extra effort this time for our little early bird.

But preemies take a little longer to figure these things out.  I didn't help that there was usually a nurse standing over my shoulder offering suggestions, tips and "you can do it!" words of encouragement...all just making me the more nervous and anxious over the whole thing.  I wanted to be in a room, by myself, with my baby and feeding her.  But that just wasn't the case.

I remember being sent back to my room to "rest" for a while and to allow Faith time under the lights used for jaundiced babies.  I was slightly frustrated about the nursing and and very tired so I decided to close my eyes.  I thought nursing was the toughest thing on my list right then.  Little did I know that thought would soon be proven wrong...very, very wrong.  My eyes were barely closed when the nurse came to tell me that soon a doctor would be arriving to check Faith's eyes.

This was the plan from the very beginning.  Since Scott had bilateral retinoblastoma (cancer of the retinas) as a child (significant treatment, radiation and loss of an eye) and two other cancers to follow in his adult life, and Parker was diagnosed at four months with the same retinal cancer (treated within twenty minutes using laser treatment to destroy the tumors), Faith needed to be checked as well.

I honestly never even worried about the fact that bilateral retinoblastoma would be an issue again.  I mean, come on...no way would our children be two-for-two with this disease.  Right?

The nurse walked me down to the NICU and I waited for the doctor to arrive.  When he did he suggested I wait in the waiting room and the exam would be very quick.

So I sat down, grabbed a magazine and waited.

He was right.  It was only about fifteen minutes later when I saw him walking down the hall towards me.  A nurse was with him and the looks on their faces told me already what they would soon tell me out loud.

In a compassionate, soft and quiet voice, the doctor said, "Mrs. Johnson...I...I'm so sorry.  But your daughter has extensive tumors on both of her eyes.  She has bilateral retinoblastoma.  She has cancer."

The nurse was there for a reason.  To catch me as I fell to my knees, sobbing, "NO!  NO!  NO!  This is not happening again!  You have to be wrong!  You're WRONG!"

"No.  No, Mrs. Johnson.  I'm not wrong.  I'm so very sorry."

I sat on the floor and cried.

And the nurse sat next to me.

I'm not sure how long it was before I was able to collect myself enough to call Scott.  He was home with Parker and getting things ready for me to come home that evening.  My mom was going to be taking care of Parker that day.

When Scott answered the phone I just remember sobbing into the phone that he had to get to the hospital quickly.  That Faith had cancer.  Soon doctors would be meeting with us to come up with a plan for how and where Faith would be treated.  I begged him to get there as quickly as he could.

He barely said a word because I know his heart was breaking.

I hung up the phone and went immediately back to Faith in the NICU.  I just sat in the chair, holding her, rocking her, kissing her tiny little cheeks and fingers and toes, telling her how much I loved her...and crying.

The NICU became eerily quiet.  All the machines and people coming and going and the voices over the intercom were suddenly whispers.  The doctors and nurses approached me cautiously...did I need anything?...they were so sorry for our news...was there anything they could do?  They didn't know that I just wanted them to make it all better.

It seemed like hours before Scott arrived.  He came to Faith and me and we pulled the curtains closed around her crib and we stood there alone with our baby, holding her, telling her how much we loved her and crying.

It wasn't long before the doctors came to us to tell us that Faith would be transferred the next day to the NICU at Fairview Riverside Hospitals where specialists from the University of Minnesota would be waiting for her.  They would develop a treatment plan for her that would begin as soon as possible.

By this time it was getting to be early evening...and they told me to go home.

Go home.

How could I go home?  How could I leave NOW?  Why couldn't I stay?

Because there was nothing I could do that night.  Because the next several days would be filled with treatment plans and meetings and things that would be difficult to make sense of.  Because the next several days were going to be exhausting...and I needed rest.

Go home.

I don't remember leaving the hospital.  I don't remember the drive home.  I do remember walking into the house after being gone for nearly three weeks and my mom standing in the kitchen holding back tears.  My sister-in-law had come over and she was doing her best to cheerfully welcome me home.  Parker was so happy to have mommy home and wanted to know when he could see his sister.  When would she be home?  We weren't sure yet, buddy...but hopefully very soon.

I sat down on the floor to play with Parker and he crawled up into my lap and again...the tears started to flow.  Then they turned into sobs that wouldn't stop.

My baby had cancer and there wasn't a damn thing anyone could do about it.

The next morning (October 23) we left early for the hospital.  Faith was being transferred by ambulance right away that day so plans could begin for her treatment.  I rode in the ambulance with her and Scott followed behind.

By mid-morning she was settled in.  By the time they let us be with her she was hooked up to IVs and other machines...but the first thing I noticed was that in the midst of the chaos someone had taken the time to put a tiny pink bow in our beautiful little Faith's hair.

By the end of that day we had met many doctors.  The retinal specialist.  The oncologists.  NICU doctors and nurses.  They had contacted several hospitals around the country...St. Jude's, Baylor, John's-Hopkins, Mayo...to make sure their treatment plan was on the right track...and it was.  The plan was to treat the tumors with lasers and chemotherapy.  Yes...chemotherapy.  They had not given a child this new chemo before, hence the consults with other hospitals.  This was all to begin the next day (October 24)...day four of Faith's little life.  She would be put under anesthesia for a thorough eye exam and extensive laser treatment to the tumors.  She would then be taken to surgery for a central IV line to be inserted into her chest for the chemo and medications to run through.  She would also be kept under anesthesia while given an MRI of the eyes and brain.  The day would end with her first chemo treatment.

While meeting with the retinal specialist that afternoon, the outlook was bleak.  "No," was the answer to our question of whether-or-not our baby was going to die.  But she could lose one or both eyes.  Both eyes could possibly be saved, but she could be blind.  She might have some developmental setbacks.  Plan at some point in the near future to start learning braille.  The doctor told us it was actually a blessing that she arrived early because had she gone full-term it was very likely that both eyes would have HAD to been removed or that she WOULD have been completely blind.

Blessing.  It was now becoming very clear that this little girl was much stronger than her 5 pounds, 6 ounces.  We had no idea, however, how very strong she was going to prove herself to be!  We also didn't know that she was going to live up to her name, as Faith means, "believing in the things you cannot see."

At this time in our life we were Catholic.  We called our church.  The new associate priest was sent to the hospital.  Father Joseph.  It was a very large church and we had met him about a month before.  When seeing that I was pregnant I remember him kindly asking how I was feeling and if he could offer a blessing to the baby.  He did.

When Father Joseph arrived we went to a private waiting room and filled him in on what had been happening.  He listened.  He asked questions.  He asked how we were doing.  He let us express our feelings...and that's when I told him I was mad.

He asked, "Mad at who?"

"God," was my response.

Then he said something I was shocked to hear.  He said,

"Well...you know what, Jeanine?  After hearing all this...Scott's story...Parker's story...and now Faith's story...I'm a little mad at God, too."

Then he said,

"But you know what?  Just like you and Scott have a relationship and at times will get upset or angry with each other...having a relationship with God can be the same.  But who better to be able to take it and understand than God?"

We talked some more and then he left.  It was getting late and the next day was going to start early and end late.  Scott and I went back to Faith for a while before being told once again to go home and get some rest.

Go home.

It was going to be a while yet before "home" felt complete...

...and the story continues...

Wishing you a peaceFULLYsimple day.

peace.
jeanine

TEN YEARS

October 3, 2003.

Ten years ago today.

I was just shy of my 32nd week of pregnancy.  I was due December 1.

I felt great!

Tired...but great!

Just a month before, over Labor Day weekend, we had moved from St. Michael, Minnesota, to Delano, Minnesota, where I had been born and raised.  My family was there and Delano had great schools...something we wanted for our children.

Parker was four and started preschool just a few days after we moved in.  He was excited about our new home, starting school...and mostly excited about becoming a big brother.

Right after we moved into our new home, I got to work making it feel like home.  Parker's room got painted.  The bathroom that he...and eventually his new sibling...would be using got painted.  Scott and I went shopping for the nursery and brought home two sets of nursery decor...one pink...one blue.  The plan was that he (or most likely my mom) would wash and put the appropriate decor in place (crib, curtains, lamp, etc) before baby and I came home from the hospital.  Things were going smoothly.  We had a little over eight weeks before baby's due date and it seemed like forever away.

On the evening of October 2 we were all hanging out in our bedroom...which was commonplace.  Parker was alternating playing on the floor building a Lincoln Log house or snuggling up in bed watching TV.  Eventually Parker got tucked into his own bed and a little while later Scott and I turned in for the night.

Or so we thought.

It was at 4:00 AM the morning of October 3 when I woke up needing to use the bathroom...which wasn't uncommon at this stage of my pregnancy.  It didn't take long for me to realize, however, that my water broke.  As calmly as I could I called for Scott...who was sound asleep and snoring away in our bed.  When he woke he said, "Where are you?"  My response was a calm, cool and collected, "I'm in the bathroom.  Can you please come in here...but don't step on Parker's Lincoln Log house."

As Scott opened the bathroom door the conversation went something like this:

Scott:  "What's going on?"
Me:  "Well...I think my water just broke."
Scott:  "WHAT?"  And then very matter-of-factly he said, "Nope.  It's too early."
Me:  "Yeah...well...early or not...you need to get the phone and call my doctor's office."

After talking to the on-call doctor I was told I needed to come to the hospital.  My response was, "First thing in the morning?"  The doctor said, "Ahhhh...No!  NOW!"

Well okay, then.

Next call was to my parents who lived about two miles away.  It was now about 4:30 AM.  My dad answered the phone and the conversation went something like this:

Me:  "Hi, dad.  Sorry to call so early in the morning, but I think my water just broke."
Dad:  "WHAT?!?!?!  Here...talk to your mother!!!!!"

Then he inadvertently hung up on me.

Eventually mom and I connected and it felt like she arrived at our house to be with Parker before I even hung up the phone.  Mom had Parker.  He would be in good hands until Scott and I returned home from the hospital.

Once at the hospital we learned that my membranes ruptured and I was leaking amniotic fluid.  The plan was to NOT have a baby at this point in the pregnancy and to try to hold off delivery until 34 weeks, at which time it would be the safest time for the baby to arrive and I would be induced.

I was told I'd be on bed rest for the next two-plus weeks.

My comment went something like, "Well...how are we supposed to do THAT?"

That's when the doctor said, "Jeanine...you're in the hospital until you reach 34 weeks.  Then we induce."

When I asked why the hospital and not at home the doctor said, "Because you're a stay-at-home mom with a four-year old at home.  And...we know you.  You won't do well with bed rest at home.  We're working on getting you a room right now."

It was clear in the doctor's tone that there was no room for me to question the decision.

Final answer...two-plus weeks of hospital bed rest.

I have this vision of Scott and I being sort of frozen for the next few minutes.  We just sort of looked at each other not knowing how we were going to do this.  Scott had to go to work...not to mention he had just started back to school for his Master's Degree only weeks before.  Who was going to take care of Parker?  Not to mention how was he going to get to preschool two days a week and swimming in Maple Grove once a week?

"What?" and "How?" were the two main questions on our mind.

Before I knew it I was in the room I would call home for the next two plus weeks.

I could get up to take a quick shower or to use the bathroom.  The rest of the time I was in bed at no more than a 45 degree angle, preferably more laying on one side or the other rather than flat on my back.

yay.

My mom became Parker's biggest caretaker when Scott was gone.  Scott arranged to work from home as much as possible.  He made the decision to drop out of the Master's program.  It was divide and conquer with Parker, whether Scott, my mom, my dad, Scott's mom, sometimes my sister-in-law, taking him where he needed to be...but mostly Scott and my mom.

Every mid-afternoon my mom would bring Parker to the hospital.  Scott had brought toys for him that we just left in the room.  When Scott would arrive my mom would head home and our family time would be spent in my room.  Scott would always have something for him and Parker to eat...sometimes me, too, so I wouldn't have to have hospital food...and we would eat dinner together.  We'd watch TV, color, draw, read to Parker, play games, or just let Parker play with his toys.  Sort of just like the night before this all happened and we were hanging out together in our room.

Before Scott and Parker would head home for the night, Parker would push the button for the nurse and when she responded he would say, "Can we hear my baby hearting now?"  The baby's heartbeat needed to be monitored twice a day and we would save one of those times for when Parker was there.  The nurse would always come in the room smiling at Parker's request while hooking up the monitor.  Parker would crawl into the bed with me and snuggle up close.  The baby moved a LOT so he thought getting kicked by his little brother or sister was silly.  He would touch my tummy, comment about the "hearting" and giggle when I told him that I could feel the baby having hiccups.

After a while it was time for our little guy to get home to bed so we would get him changed into his jammies and he and I said our "good nights" before he left.  I slathered him with kisses upon kisses and told him how much I loved him and that I would see him again the next day.  He would pack up his little bags, take daddy's hand or reach for Scott to carry him, and my two boys would head home to bed.

And then I would start to cry because I missed my little boy so very much...and because I loved this little baby who needed mommy to just "be still" for a while so he/she could make an early, but healthy, entrance into this world.

For the next couple of weeks I followed the rules set before me counting the days until October 20 when I would finally get to meet this new little one who was already showing me that he/she was stronger and more determined than one would expect a little baby to be.  And even stronger and more determined than I would have ever imagined once he/she did arrived...

...but that's a story for 17 days from days from now...

...and 19 days from now...

So until then...

Wishing you a peaceFULLYsimple day.

peace.
jeanine

What in the WORLD is that SMELL?

In an attempt to utilize space efficiently in our home, our laundry room serves multiple purposes...it's where the kennels are for our three dogs and it has also become my "office."  My husband works mainly from home so we have designated our main floor office as his space.

This morning while sitting in my "office" I couldn't help but wonder...

"What in the WORLD is that SMELL?"

Even with the window opened it stunk.

Then I started my laundry tasks and while sorting clothes I came across this lovely and filthy little gift from my son...his football pants (photo included for your viewing pleasure).

There isn't practice today and he remembered my request that he bring home his stuff to be washed.  The day they got their pants...many weeks ago...he brought them home with instructions that they needed to be cleaned.  Other than at games, that was the last I saw of these pants...until today.

I cringed when I saw them and was tempted to get tongs to pick them up.  But I've been puked on, pee'd on and pooped on more times than I care to count in my years as a mom so I certainly wasn't going to let a pair of sweaty, stinky, filthy pants intimidate me!  I braved it and picked them up...bare handed and determined!

The pads were still in them so I pulled those out as they are not to be laundered.

Woooooo...another wave of fresh stink wafted into the air!

Also included for washing was an item of "protective gear"...completely intact for mom to disassemble and clean.  The pads and "protective" item were removed and quickly taken to the deck for a thorough spraying using Lysol disinfecting spray.  They are currently airing out in the freshness of this beautiful, cool, fall day.  The pants, however, are still waiting to be cleaned in the pile of "whites" that is typically my last load of the day.

But as I sit here typing...I gotta tell you...it's really not all bad.  That stench of stinky, sweaty, filthy football pants brings more joy to my heart than you can imagine.  Joy over a healthy boy.  Joy over the fact that he loves playing football.  Joy over the fact that I love to watch him play.  Joy over the fact that he actually listened to my instructions and brought the pants home for me to wash...even if he did just throw them on the laundry room floor and left the disassembling to me.

Wishing you a peaceFULLYsimple...and odor-free day!

peace
jeanine

THIS HAPPENED THIS WEEK:

So here's what happened this week:


This little guy...

...started his freshman year of high school...

 

And this little girl...

...started 4th Grade...

Where did the time go?

They say, "Time flies when you're having fun!"

We must be having a LOT of fun here at our house because wasn't it only yesterday these two were babies in my arms?

They're growing up...and I'm so proud of both of them!

Wishing you a peaceFULLYsimple day!

peace

jeanine

THE BRIDGE BETWEEN TWO WORLDS

This is "bridge week."

The week that bridges the end of summer and the beginning of another school year.

In six days kids will be back at school.

We have a freshman this year.

High school.

HIGH SCHOOL!

We have a 4th grader this year.

Last year of elementary school.

LAST YEAR!

I know for many the week of "bridge crossing" is a busy one, trying to cram in as much of what's left of summer as possible before the routine of school kicks in again.

"Bridge crossing" at our house is quiet.

I have home-bodies, remember?

They cherish this time to just "be."

To play with friends...to hang out...to stay up late...to sleep in even later.

Don't get me wrong, though...it's not as though we aren't busy.

Parker has football practice every day and he had freshman orientation earlier this week.  Faith has piano lessons.  There's school open houses tonight along with another orientation for students and parents.  There are haircuts to be had (and let me tell you...there's LOTS of hair to be cut), last minute school shopping to get done and hard-to-find jean sizes to track down.

But we're not jam-packing our schedules.

We're crossing the bridge at a slow and steady pace...although too slow for Faith who REALLY wants school to start!

Next week I'll give them over to another year of school.  Part of me will breath a little sigh that we are back into a "routine" again.  But most of me will be watching and waiting for that bus to arrive at 3:15 in the afternoons when Faith is once again returned to me after a busy and learning-filled day.  Then I'll wait again for that 5:30 afternoon time when Parker is returned to me from his busy, learning-filled and football-playing day.

Soon our dinner conversations will change to hearing about school friends, new friends, teachers and exciting (and maybe not-so-exciting) things that happened throughout their days.  Evenings will be homework-filled, with Scott taking everything math and science related and me taking everything reading, writing and spelling related.

Ah, yes...the busyness of another school year is just on the other side of the bridge.

But for the next six days...we're just gonna chill.

Wishing you a peaceFULLYsimple day.

peace
jeanine

BAKING COOKIES

I don't even have to look at the calendar to know we're over half-way through August and school is less than two weeks away.  All I have to do is listen and I hear these words:

"I don't know what to dooooooooooooo."

Yep...end of summer boredom.

I think it happens to almost every kid at some point in their life.

So today after many attempts to play with friends who were either gone, too hot (it's a warm and humid day today) or grounded, Faith asked,

"Mom...do we have the ingredients to make cookies?"

Me:  "Yep.  Chocolate chip?"

Faith:  "Yep."

Me:  "Let's do it!"

So while I sat at the counter and gave instructions, Faith made the cookies.

At one point she was concentrating very hard on scooping the flour mixture out of one bowl into the butter/sugar/egg bowl spinning on the electric mixer.  She was so focused on making sure the flour ended up IN the bowl...and the expression on her face was a combination of concentration and sweetness.  She had some glitter on her cheeks, too, from an art project we had been working on earlier in the afternoon.

It was this expression and glittery little face that brought tears to my eyes.

(Yes...I get tears in my eyes watching my little girl make cookies.)

You see, I'm one that has a very difficult time letting other people do things that I typically do on my own.  If it's quicker to do it myself, then that's how I do it.  It's a nasty little habit that I'm working on breaking...but that's probably a different blog topic.  Anyway, I remember being nine years old and wanting to do things myself...so I sat back, watched and called out cooking-baking instruction from my stool on the other side of the kitchen counter.

And there was a mess.

Faith's depth-perception isn't quite like everyone else.

So flour and sugar ended up missing the measuring cups...so she scooped up some more and eventually the measuring cups were filled, leveled off and dumped into the bowl.

Pouring vanilla into a teaspoon is difficult, too, since it's hard to tell when the teaspoon is actually full to the brim.  So our cookies ended up with a little more vanilla than the recipe called for.

When it came time for the above mentioned scooping flour into the butter/sugar/egg bowl on the mixer that required so much concentration...to make sure it all got IN the bowl and not accidentally on the counter, that's when the cooking-making tears welled up in my eyes.

These tears were not ones of sadness over the spills and messes.  Instead they were tears of joy in watching my sweet girl learn and do the simple task of making cookies...which we were told as a baby she would probably not have the ability to do.

Eventually the chocolate chips got mixed in, we ate more raw cookie dough than we should have and some of the dough actually made it onto the pan and into the oven. 

The cookies are done now.

And you know what?

They. are. delicious!

Best chocolate chip cookies I've had in a long time.

I think it's because they were made by a glitter-faced little nine-year old who is way sweeter than the sugar that got spilled on the counter :)

Wishing you a peaceFULLYsimple day.

peace.
jeanine

SUMMER 2013

I just realized I haven't written on this site for several months.

Funny how summer arrives and we take a break from what goes on during the other three seasons of the year.

Summer 2013 has been great.

Not too busy...not too dull.

"Manageable choas" is what I like to call it.

June and August found us at the local pool for swimming lessons for Faith.  She loves to swim.  She's a good swimmer (like her daddy).  She glides beautifully and gracefully through the water...although sometimes she belly-flops her dives, but even those have improved significantly.

June also found Parker on a week-long mission trip to Green Bay, Wisconsin, with our church youth group.  As always he.had.a.blast!  He came missing his little sister more than me and Scott and exhausted but fulfilled from being the hands and feet of Jesus.

July was pretty much the busiest month for us.  We have friends that stay with us every 4th of July.  We look forward to this holiday almost more than Christmas and Easter.  Our two families have a great time together and the our kids think of their kids more like cousins.  We went to a Minnesota Twins game on July 3 that included beautiful fireworks after the game was over.  We enjoyed our house filled with four adults, three teenagers, a tweenie-bopper and four dogs ranging in size from 60+ pounds down to 5 pounds.  We enjoyed another Twins game later in the month with family.  Our Saturdays consisted of "Adventures" to wherever we decided to go that day...movies, waterfalls, requested favorite restaurants, mini-golf, school supply shopping...pretty much did whatever our little old hearts desired.

Faith found out her 4th grade teacher today.  She has had her fingers crossed for a particular teacher since the first day of summer and today she found out she got this teacher!  She is so excited!  Parker had the same teacher for 4th grade so I know we're in for a great year!  After finishing up classroom driver's ed the last week in July and first week of August, Parker has now moved on to football practice.  He's a freshman this year and the two-a-day practices that started last week have taken a little getting used to...but he loves it!  He comes home sweaty and stinky and tired and always with a funny story to share and a smile on his face.  Freshman orientation is next week as well as school open houses.

It's hard for me to wrap my head around the fact that it's mid-August and school starts in two weeks.  TWO!  In the past week I've talked to moms who are counting the days and minutes until their kids are back in school.  I am not one of those moms.  I've talked to more moms, however, who say they're not ready for summer to end yet and for their kids to be gone all day.  I am one of those moms.

Soon my mornings will be filled with packing lunches, making sure backpacks are filled with completed homework, feeding sleepy children breakfast and driving them off to school for the day.  Evenings will consist of football practices and games, piano lessons, homework, and back-to-school routine.

All good stuff.

But for now...we'll do our best to make the most of the remaining summer...playing with friends, children sleeping in late when they can and hangin' on the porch with a glass of wine (me...not the kids).

Wishing you a peaceFULLYsimple day.

peace.
jeanine