Six Hours.

My sister in law was a week overdue. The baby's heartrate was low so they did an emergency C-section. I got a call at work telling me things weren't OK, that the baby girl had some "abnormalities."
Her dad called her Patience, and though I didn't get to see him holding her, I was told he cradled her four pound body in his arms, keeping his gaze on her tiny face. She had his blonde hair, his facial shape and features.
I wonder what my sister in law knew going into the surgery. When she came to, the first thing she said was, "She's not going to make it, is she."
After having a baby myself, those words would not have even been able to be sucked out of my mouth soon after my own delivery. I expected to have a baby that would live, and to consider otherwise would have seemed as unimaginable as, well, a supossedly healthy baby dying six hours after she was born.
The pictures were sureal, she looked so much like Ethan. Her fingers were chubby and plump, her closed eyes little slits sitting high up on her round cheek bones, like my son's were. The similarities brought her death to whole new level for me--I guess I was thinking she wouldn't look so real, so much like a part of our family.
In one picture my brother in law is holding Patience wrapped in a white recieving blanket, a little pink knit hat on her small head. He's smiling at the camera, thinking what? That maybe it will be ok? That this picture will go in her baby book and they will tell her the story over and over how she needed surgery and tubes, but that she survived?
He has wanted a baby for a long time, and he was a good daddy to her for the short time she needed him here, holding her. I hope he knows he will be her daddy forever, even though she's gone now.

La di da.

At work. Again.

It's quiet and wonderful. One new co-worker/friend is going to get me set up with a new project involving old buildings, interviews, and a camera (as in TV camera). I am a little scared and a really excited. The City Architect also chatted with me for a while and after I told him I tried Interior Design at UNR but couldn't get past the drafting, asked if I was good with colors. And now I am going to help him choose the colors for a new children's center they are doing. SWEET.

This is all good for me. It's coming slow, but it's building confidence that I can actually do something in the real world-as in outside of people who love me and will forgive me no matter what awful color combination I put on their walls.

I guess it's too early to really say--I'll let you all know what happens after I pick the colors.

We went to Red Robin last night with Jen and Sam. Ethan thought we were going to Red Lobster-"I wanna see the big lobster!" But once we got inside and he flirted with the waitresses a bit, winning free fries right away, he was happy. Also, he LOVES the strawberry lemonade.
Afterwards Jen suggested we go to Michael's just to look around (Joey was, um, a little irritated), but it ended up being fun anyway. I least I thought it was. I think Joey did too--by the end he was making jokes about all the worthless stuff in that store, trying on a gigantic, red ruby ring on his pinkie and flashing it around like Barbara Streisand on Funny Girl. We went home and put the little man to bed and watched Hot Rod. It was lame, but we didn't shut it off, even though before the movie I said, "If this is lame we are turning it off."

Easter.

No bunnies, no baskets. I did make cupcakes with a little jelly egg on top but really they just weren't appetizing with the super sweet and runny homemade frosting I made to go on top.
Ethan has been adorable in his short sleeve shirt I haven't put on him since last summer, now a little tight. So cute. I wore a yellow skirt that is generally pretty comfortable but I was also paranoid I should have worn a slip underneath, going to church and all. I hate details like that.
I also feel like a total inconsiderate donkey because I was on the phone the other day with a friend and she was telling me about her family Easter party, and it sounded like so much fun with all the kids and egg hunting and all, that I asked if we might be able to come. She said sure, but then, it isn't at her house, it's at her mom's. And now I realize they are doing a whole family Easter dinner and me and my big mouth along with Joey, my mom, my dad, and my son, are right in the middle of it. I feel so rude. I want to show up at her door with roses and a bowl of peas and an extra ham, just in case.
I mean, who does that? "Um, yes, can we crash your holiday? Yes, our whole family? The one you already bought and planned for? Um, thanks."
Also, I stink. Literally. Does anyone else out there have this problem? I mean, I am a short, petite girl who likes to shower and I stink. I admit I don't like to use antiperspirant but I do use deodorant-and usually men's-and I still smell so disgusting. What's the deal? I tell Joey that in other cultures a woman with a strong bodily scent is considered desirable and he laughs and says, "Baby, you are not a part of that culture." True.
And I miss Joey. I miss him standing by me when they read the scripture before the service, or when we sing. Is that lame or what? I say is that lame because I think really I miss the idea of him being at church with me more than him himself. If I remember correctly usually we fought on Sunday mornings. If I remember correctly.
Something to note** He has looked extremely hot in his BTU's lately. **
But if I were to ever tell him this, I think it would be awkward.

You Are Now Updated.

I haven't posted pictures in a while cuz I am a lazy, impatient bum so I thought I'd update you.

This look he has in the box is the same look he gives me when he's going wee wee.

After all these wonderful pictures, he spilled the vase.

He has such good taste in shoes.

Come to think of it, I am going to throw this umbrella out. Can you imagine walking down the street with it? I don't think so.

Doughnuts and Mommy Love.

Last night we had dinner with Jen and Sam, our new friends. I set the table with cloth napkins and beaded rings, one of my favorite things to do for company or if I am feeling especially nice and put together just for Joey and me and Ethan (although Ethan doesn't get a place mat because he likes to smear his food everywhere and he has no appreciation for the beauty of place mats and cloth napkins and beaded napkin rings).
I decided to have a glass of wine before they came over.
Before dinner.
Which made making dinner a little difficult: I kept having to re-read the same line in the recipe because nothing was really taking to my brain. Thankfully Jen was there to help me, remind me when I would just sort of daze off (wine makes me sleepy) that we had to roast the asparagus, or (a little later) that the aspargus was burning.
After dinner I was feeling a little sick but we decided to go to Krispy Creme for donuts. Another bad idea--not so much the donut, that actually made me feel better, but the car ride there I was all woozy, the lights from the other cars like fireflies all around my head.
When we got to the doughnut shop and Sam asked Ethan what doughnut he wanted, without a second's hesitation-in the slew of all those colorful pastries-he pointed to the green-sprinkled one on the third shelf. Quite a lot of certainty for a two year old.

And then this morning Ethan was awake before I left for work, pounding on his door to get out, "I hurt my head Mama, I hurt my head." Apparently he was using his head to pound on the door. When I opened the door he squinted up at me, trying to adjust to the light. "Hi Mama." And when I picked him up he smelled like slept-in sheets with a hint of pee because his diaper was so full it was about to fall off, and I about melted in mommy love.

Datenight

We dropped Ethan off at Grandma Patty's at the last minute to go to the movies. We drove to the Grand Sierra, where you can see already-played-in-the-theaters movies for three bucks a piece. I felt young because Ethan wasn't with us and we were driving in the dark-don't ask me why but driving in the dark with Joey-and without Ethan-makes me feel young.
It was cold and we held hands walking in. We passed by the candy store I used to LOVE to go to when I was a little girl. When we got to the counter the lady said they took cash only, so Joey had to use the ATM, which charged him three dollars to do so. I could see this really irritated him. I tried to remind him that we still were only paying $4.50 to go to the movies, still super cheap. He didn't answer me.
I wanted candy but Joey reminded me this "wasn't staying cheap" with the three dollar ATM charge and all. So I was content with just holding his hand.
It's so nice at the Grand Sierra because they have love seats instead of individual seats, so Joey and I could sit close.
The movie was AWFUL in the sense that I was seriously scared some human infected with the K virus (similar to rabies) was going to come out from under our couch and eat me. Joey was enthralled. I was very relieved when the credits started, and we could hold hands walking out again.
It seems like a lot to go through when the highlight of the night for me was holding hands.
But that's OK. I know this is how life is, jumping through lots of hoops for little pleasures.
*****
I am appreciating Ethan more. The thought of not having another baby for a while makes me more focused on him, more aware of how precious he right now. He gently takes my cheeks in his chubby hands and pulls me face into his, just barely brushing his pink lips on mine. He usually smells like strawberries, because they have been on sale, making him irresistable.
He's initiating getting on the pot on his own and he seems to be warming up to Riley.
Who, by the way, scored some points with me yesterday when we went to the park and let her off the leash and she was a very good girl, coming when we called her and staying close. Maybe she does like us, despite her cat like independence most of the time.

Working Woman.

I am at my new job and have sipped chamomile tea, gone potty three times, and checked the weather on yahoo for the last three hours.
How do I get jobs like this?
I really love it, really love getting up early before I have to do any mommy duties and getting dressed up and coming to work, even if it's a little slow.
My space is a little bland (one plant, one box of Kleenex, and a computer) so I think I will buy a new plant to bring in. I want to put up pictures, because yes! I have a desk (a big one) but because I am only working part time, it might be a little weird for whoever works when I don't. I considered bringing them in everyday and taking them home each night, but that seems a little compulsive.
We have signed up for a financial program where at the most it should take us 10 years to pay off our little abode in Stead. You don't understand how happy this makes me, whereas before we were looking to pay the thing off when I was about 55. (Gag!)
If we are frugal (not my strongest point) we could pay it off in six or seven. I didn't eat out today.
We also (tentatively) decided to hold out on making baby number 2 this summer so that I could continue working steadily because with this program the more you pay into it early on the more it will cut off the mortgage. We are talking years. So it seems the best choice is to wait another year.
I am OK with this. I was getting REALLY excited about being pregnant again and even labor (GASP) and even still having another baby around, but if we don't "randomly" get pregnant again I think this is a good financial choice for our family. It's only one more year, Ethan will be four, fully potty trained. That will be nice.

I also feel a little bit vain, but maybe that's silly. I have this tension like it seems like my main purpose here is to make babies and be a mom, so why wait? But maybe that is the silliest thing I have ever heard. I guess I am struggling with what will make me the most happy, kids now, or kids later, lots of kids or two kids, when what God is really calling me to be is happy right now in Him, period. He fullfills me, not children, not lack there of.
I love that about Him-that no matter what, He is I AM.
It really is the most marvelous, graceful thought.

A new Word.

What the heck is cultry? I have no idea. I was absolutely certain it meant silverware, but today it looked a little odd so I decided to look it up so I wouldn't look like an idiot and there were no entries for cultry. I just made it up.
Duh, when I looked under the spell check it gave me cutlery. I think that's what I was going for.
***Danae just graduated from the University of Nevada with an English degree! It is serving her so well!***

Cultry, Wee wee, and Woo, woo.

Last night we made peanut butter cookies from the package and put Hershey kisses on top to take to the jail for the boys. Ethan stood on the stool and poked the batter, and when I told him not to do that he took all the spoons, forks, and knives out of my drawer and spread them on the counter like pick up sticks.
Right now he's watching Elmo's Potty Time, an absolute must for potty-trainers. He's going pee (wee wee) whenever I ask him, but he hasn't dropped any poo (woo woo) in the potty yet. I'm not stressed; I'm going to take this HUGE step of independence as slow as Ethan wants.

Controlling the Universe.

I don't realize it day to day, but underneath my usual emotions I am totally freaking out.
The thing with being a cop's spouse, or a human being, is that there is an incredible urge deep in our souls to control the universe.
That's why when I wake up at 1:38 in the morning, I think, Lord, why did you have me wake up? Is something wrong? And then I wait for the phone to ring, for my cue to go to the hospital because something bad has happened.
And then later that day, when life happens and the guitar is completely out of tune because Ethan turned the doo-hickeys at the end and I have to lead worship in an hour and the tuner's battery is dead and the printer won't work and I want to throw the laptop into the TV--I hang up on you because I can't handle all that on top of getting no sleep because I was waiting for the phone to ring to go to the hospital at 1:38 am.
What I am trying to say is I see even more why cop marriages fail 80% of the time. It takes a lot of something (alcohol, TV, friends,--or ideally--faith) to stop freaking out about all the "what-ifs".
I thought I had trusted the Lord with Joey's life, but now I see I hadn't...it's actually a very painful thing, this letting go, this trusting. Like someone is prying the universe out of my hands, because I super-glued it there.