3 Weeks

I just got home from a 3 week trip to Tennessee. It was great spending time with my family, but let me tell you, 3 weeks is a long time to be away from home.

We spent the majority of our time at my mom's house. We only had use of her car here and there when she wasn't using it. So we took a lot of walks up and down her driveway checking out the cows and farm dogs. It was no surprise that Penelope's first animal sounds were moo and woof. 3 weeks is a long time to be stuck in the country without a car.

3 weeks is also a long time to sleep in someone else's bed. My mom and her family like hard mattresses. JD and I like soft mattresses. The bed that I slept on while I was there was like sleeping on a concrete slab. Everything on my body hurt. My neck, back, and shoulders were sore everyday. 3 weeks is a long time to long for your bed.

This is the longest voluntary separation JD and I have had. I honestly didn't realize how much I missed him until I saw him waiting for us at the gate at LAX. I ran to him! Our girls screamed when they saw him. It was awesome. 3 weeks is a long time to be away from daddy.

It kind of sounds like I'm complaining - I'm not. The girls and I had a great trip and spent much needed time with our family. It was just a long time to be gone.

I Gave Myself A Concussion

I'm sort of known for my clumsiness. I trip over my feet, I snag my toes on doorways, I bang my funny bone into walls. I blame my extra long extremities. Typically my injuries are superficial and my accidents are more of a nuisance than a source of concern. My clumsiness has been kind of funny.

And then one day I gave myself a concussion.

It happened on Saturday around lunchtime. I was doing laundry in my mom's laundry room when I walked into a sloped wall/ceiling, knocking myself silly for a moment. I knew that I hit my head really hard, but I never had a headache so I wasn't too concerned. I wanted to take a nap though, so I did.

When I woke up, I felt off. I was slightly dizzy and somewhat nauseated. I could still function alright so I took the girls to church and out to dinner with my brothers and sisters in law. Everyone thought I was acting a little loopy, but I felt mostly fine. I didn't worry about it.

On Sunday morning, all of that changed. I woke up unable to get out of bed. The room was spinning 100 miles per hour and I couldn't stand up. When I did, I vomited. It happened to be the morning my mom went on an overnight school trip with my youngest brother so I was alone with the girls, completey incapable of caring for them. I called my brother and sister in law to come over and help.

In the meantime, I googled. Big mistake. Googling health problems is the dumbest thing a person can do when they are faced with a health problem. I read things about diminished brain function, coma, and death. My sister in law found me in tears whispering about how I didn't want to die from a concussion...

At that point, everyone decided it was best that I went to the ER. We were all pretty sure I had a concussion with the dizziness and vomiting I was experiencing, but I wanted to be sure there wasn't anything worse going on with my brain since I couldn't stand up.

4 hours and a CT scan later, I was diagnosed with a (self-inflicted) concussion and given a Zofran for the nausea. I still felt horrible, but was relieved that my brain wasn't bleeding or permantly damaged. I came and home rested and accepted my family's help with the girls. I went to bed praying for a full recovery by this morning.

Today, I feel great. I woke up with some dizziness. Everything seemed slanted and distorted so I was still a little off. I prayed and by lunchtime, all dizziness was gone (praise God!). I feel totally normal now and am believing that my head is at 100% capacity for good. Amen!

As for the wall that knocked me down, well, it's still there. I've determined that I won't be doing anymore laundry while I'm here. It is definitely too risky.

Owning It

I don't like fish. This is something I've hidden for many years. I've pushed crab cakes around my plate and choked down microscopic bites of shrimp pretending I was eating it for far too long. I've decided enough is enough. I'm sick of this charade. I just don't like fish.

This is not an easy thing to admit. Liking fish seems like a very "adult" thing to do. You are born, you grow up, you get married, you eat fish. It's the natural progression of things. And if you are an adult and don't like to eat fish, people look at you like you are 12 and like that filet you just ordered is equivalent to a happy meal.

But the thing is, I like filets. I always have. And I just want to order my filet without the pressure of trying someone's cedar planked salmon. No thank you, I don't like fish. 

I don't just not like the taste of fish, I have a physical reaction to it. My throats closes up, I gag, I can't swallow. This all might be psychosomatic, but it's real and it freaks me out. Plus, I have never smelled an appetizing piece of fish. Ever. It all smells, well, fishy. Like ocean vomit. 

I wished I liked fish, I really do. It's low calorie and the health benefits are undeniable, but I want to barf every time it's near me. I try it every so often, just to be sure my taste buds haven't changed. But it's always the same reaction. Dry heave, gag, wave of nausea. So I'm finally going to own it; I just don't like fish and I'm not ashamed anymore. Pass the filet. 

One Of The Family

One of the hardest things about living 2500 miles away from our family is hearing about what everyone is up to instead of being apart of it. In the past 10 months, I've missed Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter, birthdays, pregnancies, funerals, happy things, sad things, family dinners, weddings, first birthdays, and so much more. Thankfully, there is Facebook and Instagram and cell phones to keep me in touch and up to date on all of our family's happenings.

It's not the same though. I want to be there. I want to rub my sister in law's swollen belly. I want to feast on Christmas desserts and gorge myself on Easter ham at my Nana's house. I want to be apart of the stories, not just hear about them from my mom.

And for the next month, I get to do just that. My mom just landed at LAX and is staying with us for a week before the girls and I head to Tennessee for the rest of the month. I can't wait. I know I only have a month to spend with everyone, but I want to do as much as I can. I plan to cram in as much family time as I possibly can. I get to be apart of the stories of my family's life for a short time and I can't wait.

I miss these guys.

Sharks

Sharks live in the ocean. Occasionally, they eat humans. I am not afraid of this happening to me. I mean, I know it technically could happen, but it doesn't keep me from swimming at the beach. I grew up at the ocean and swam for miles to sandbars on my dad's back. I know sharks are out there, I'm just not going to let it keep me from enjoying the water. Don't get me wrong, I'm afraid of plenty of other sea life. Jellyfish, sand crabs, stingrays, and starfish all terrify me. 

JD on the other hand, is afraid of sharks. So much so, that he will not go in the water deeper than his ankles. He is convinced they can attack in shin-deep water... When we go to the beach, all he talks about is sharks and their sinister plots to eat us if we go near the water. He has psyched me out about shark attacks so much that now, I'm a little paranoid about it too.

It's pretty hot here now and the Pacific has finally warmed up enough to swim in it. The last 2 times we ventured to the beach, I have gotten in the water up to my neck to pee cool off. In the past (before my brainwashing), I would have floated for awhile without a care in the world. Now though? Now, I freak the freak out. Every rise and fall of a wave, every ebb and flow of the tide I search for sharks. JD has me convinced that they are out there, closer than I think, waiting to eat me. It doesn't help that there are shark sightings on the news almost weekly here. 

Basically, JD has ruined the ocean for me. I'm pretty upset about it too. I want to be able to body surf unafraid. I want to pee cool off in water deeper than my shins. I want to enjoy the beach without thinking I'm going to be eaten alive. I want my innocence back.

Shameless Plug

I've been busy working on new styles of crocheted goodies for my Etsy shop and thought it would be nice to offer a little sale on the items already listed.

 

Any 2 hats for $25. You pick the colors, sizes, and styles. (And if you don't like the options listed in my shop, message me thru Etsy and we can work something out that suits you). This would be a great way to start your holiday shopping! Check out the sale here!

Too Fast

Today is Penelope's first birthday. Every time I sang to her, nursed her, or had a flashback of her first day of life one year ago, I cried. In fact, I have spent the last 12 hours in tears. Off and on, all day, I have teared up thinking about how fast the last year has gone by. 


I knew it was going to go by quickly. I had already experienced the fast forward of time with Beatrice's infancy. I tried to savor every late night feeding with Penelope, every snuggle, every cry, every exhausting moment. It didn't slow time down though. My second baby's first year flew by just as fast.

Reflecting on her fleeting babyhood has made me realize how precious the time we have with our children is. Not just because baby cuddles are the best, but the time we have to teach and influence who our children grow up to be is short. I want to make every minute count. And if I can't slow time down, I want to concentrate on each moment I have in the future to teach and train these girls to love God, to live lives that honor Him, and to love others. On her 18th birthday I want to look back and say, "man, I did a good job." And then I'll cry because it went by way too fast.

Today wasn't all tears. We did celebrate our baby with lots of Happy Birthday To Yous, a picnic at the beach with friends, Skyping with family, cake, and presents.

It's a good thing Penelope has a big sister. Otherwise she never would have gotten into all of her gifts.

 

 

Sissy had a great birthday. She is so loved and cherished and I think we did a good job showing her just how much over the last few days.

I continued my birthday ritual of recounting their birth stories before bed on the night of their birthdays. Penelope smiled and nursed while I told her about the first moment I kissed her squishy newborn face. I rocked her all the way to sleep while looking at all of the itty bitty photos of her from the past year on my phone. And I cried.

It went by too fast, sweet girl. Way too fast.