Pure Joy

There is so much I want to write. I have so much to say. But it’s all tucked away in my head. Waiting. Like me. Waiting for the perfect way to tell you how I almost died 2 summers ago. And how God healed me. And then gave us a baby. And how I love that baby so fiercely, that sometimes I can’t breathe.

How am I supposed to just start writing a blog again when so much has changed? Where do I begin?

How am I supposed to tell you, in human words, how much my heart feels for this boy? I really can’t explain it. It’s just GOD. He did all of this. He gave me this son. And I’m so inadequate. But so, so thankful.

 

June 23, 2011

This one moment changed me forever.

39 Weeks, 1 Day

Today I went to work late.  And went home early.  Why?

Because my body is like, I’M CARRYING A HUMAN BEING, SO SLOWDOWNALREADY.

So I came home and put my feet up on the bed.

And Milner did this.
And this.

What you can’t see is that there’s a baseball game going on outside the window at the local high school.

He likes him some baseball.

Unless something on the floor is better.

And in case you’re wondering, I generally lock him in the bedroom with me.

Why must I be so cruel, you ask?

Um.  Yeah.

Goodbye, only-pair-of-cute-yet-comfy-black-flats-I-owned.

At 39 weeks, 1 day pregnant, I cannot handle another comfy-shoe-loss like this.

Don’t judge.

Happy Easter

Happy Easter!

Yes, I’m well aware that Easter has come and gone. But I’m only now able to celebrate because of the trauma that overtook my house on that blessed day.

Starting with this little burn stain:

And ending with this bleeding scratch on my cheek (the picture does not do my pain justice, I tell you):

It all started when my mother-in-law decorated the Easter table down the center with fake grass, and then lit tea lights and nestled them down INTO said fake grass. (She likes her some decoration).

And maybe while I unwrapped an Easter present from her, I might have gently set some of the tissue paper onto the table whereby the hidden tea light suddenly grabbed ahold and the next second my table was on fire.

Anyway. In chronological order, the following then occurred:

I screamed.

I blew on the burning tissue paper.

It flamed ever higher.

My 6 yr. old niece (with very thick, flammable hair) sitting next to me, playing with her new strawberry shortcake doll, copped a terrified look.

I picked up the burning paper and ran to the door.

Thereby creating more oxygen for the flames.

The paper burned my hand.

I dropped it on the carpet near the door, screamed R’s name, and ran to the kitchen for water.

Whereby he came sprinting over and stamped out the flaming paper.

The end. (And yes, I violated every fire safety rule ever written in one 5 second mishap).

The stain of burn is not easily removed, FYI.

And what of my bleeding cheek, I am sure you’re wondering? Let’s just say that when your husband finds a dog bone upstairs and decides to throw it over the staircase, it behooves you not to simultaneously be walking up the stairs.

Happy Easter.

What baby?

It sort of cracks me up to see the last post I wrote, complaining about the 15 pounds I gained back after being so sick.

Because now, 5 months later, let’s just say I’m an ADDITIONAL 15 pounds heavier. Easy on the McDonald’s, I know.

Actually, the reason is this human being that GOD decided to grow inside me.

Yes, R and I are pregnant, and due in about 2 months. It’s a boy. Holdontoyourhats.

I predict this blog will now be about keeping myself sane through sleepless nights and diaper changes. Did I mention that I grew up as an only child? Yeah, that means I need a class on diaper changes, washing a baby, cleaning out baby’s ears, cleaning his nose with a bulb-sucker thingy, and what-not. Blessedly, our hospital offers “parenting for dummies,” and it doesn’t even require a graduation certificate.

Which makes me wonder, why is it that you need a license to operate a vehicle but not a license to operate a SMALL, FRAGILE, HUMAN BEING WHO AT ANY MOMENT YOU COULD RUIN FOR LIFE WITH YOUR STUPIDITY?

Just curious.

So anyway, just so we all get what’s happened, here:

This girl

Plus this guy

(Just kidding, he will kill me when he sees this)

(This one is much better)

EQUALS

I kid. We have no clue what our son will look like. But isn’t this a cute picture of a little man that R took on one of this travels to India? Oh yes, indeed.

Clever title here

It has come to my attention that I have, allegedly, not blogged consistently in ages. I have about 37 excuses ready for you. Not the least of which includes a battle for my life this summer for 2 months with some undiagnosed illness.  I mean, not even 3 ER visits, a 4-day hospital stay, and 2 weeks at the MAYO CLINIC could diagnose me. “All of our testing shows your body to be perfectly normal and healthy.” Ah yes, a 24/7 freight train in my head that keeps me from working, lying down, sleeping or eating is the behavior of a body that is PERFECTLY NORMAL). This is when you know it’s time to pick a funeral outfit.

I kid. I never picked an outfit like that–completely. But I did ponder buying new clothes after I started feeling better because voilà! I’d lost 15 pounds. Now, I lose stuff *all* the time. Ask R. I mean, when I lose something, it’s history. But OHHHHHH NO, those 15 pounds just popped back up outta nowhere like a scary guy that keeps scaring people in a scary movie (I don’t watch scary movies, thus the generic example).  And so, reunited with those 15 pounds, I have been. And I’d go ponder how angry that makes me but eating is what I do to drown my emotions.

100 Reasons Why I Love You

Happy 1st anniversary, babe.

1. You are Indian.
2. You are smarter than me.
3. You are organized.
4. You love your parents.
5. You aren’t afraid to say hard things.
6. You aren’t afraid to do hard things.
7. You have the strongest work ethic of any man I’ve known.
8. You are a great cook.
9. You patiently teach me how to cook.
10. You always remember to plug my phone into the charger each night, sometimes long after I’ve gone to bed.
11. Your faith in GOD.
12. Your knowledge of scripture.
13. You take spiritual warfare seriously.
14. You held me and rocked me while you cried out to GOD each night before bed — I was so sick I thought I would die.
15. You make me laugh.
16. You laugh at my jokes.
17. You are always willing to try new things.
18. You like to fish.
19. You have traveled to more countries than I will ever see in my lifetime.
19. You faithfully keep tabs on our budget.
20. Your friends respect you.
21. You are loyal.
22. You are honest — I can always trust your word.
23. You don’t run from conflict.
24. You help me not run from conflict.
25. You love my parents.
26. You have gorgeous teeth.
26. You are a good driver.
27. When I haven’t done the laundry, you don’t get mad. You just put a load in yourself.
28. You love to learn new things.
29. You respect those whom God has put in authority over you.
30. You love our nephews and nieces.
31. You want to be a dad.
32. You are ready to be a dad.
33. You always remember important facts.
34. You love to read the Old Testament.
35. You love your grandparents.
36. You know how to build things.
37. You know stuff about cars.
38. You always remember trash day.
39. You like to micromanage me and I let you because most of the time, your ideas are better.
40. You have a big, BIG, family.
41. You love our church.
42. You help me use our house to be hospitable towards others.
43. You never complain if dinner doesn’t have enough flavor. You just politely go get the ketchup.
44. You are not easily offended.
45. You are quick to listen.
46. You are slow to become angry.
47. I can’t even remember the last time you got angry.
48. If you’re mad, 99.9% of the time, you have a good reason.
49. You value justice.
50. You make friends easily.
51. You didn’t marry your college girlfriend.
52. You took me to the zoo on my 29th birthday and shelled out tons of cash so I could keep feeding the giraffes crackers.
53. You like to eat at the dinner table and not in front of the tv.
54. You aren’t obsessed with video games.
55. You aren’t obsessed with sports.
56. You think tv is a time waster for the most part. I agree.
57. You turn your eyes if a tv show has an inappropriate scene. Or turn the channel.
58. You speak well of your family and friends.
59. You rarely complain.
60. You often use discretion.
61. You will offer to help anyone.
62. You speak Spanish.
63. You mix well with my girlfriends.
64. You don’t keep bad company.
65. You sleep next to the bedroom door.
66. You like guns.
67. You know how to use a gun.
68. You don’t think it’s weird that I carry one.
69. You often tell me you love me.
70. You let me re-tell stories.
71. You do dishes.
72. You are excellent at using our grill. I can’t even start it.
73. You love Emma.
74. You take Emma out in the dark.
75. When I got sick this whole summer and no doctor could diagnose me, you always believed GOD would heal me.
76. You were the first guy I ever dated who caused zero drama in my life.
77. You hate drama.
78. You let me be dramatic just for fun.
79. You are confident.
80. You always come home when you say you will.
81. When I was sick, you said it was a privilege to suffer alongside me.
82. You love good preaching.
83. You can sing–really well.
84. You like good music.
85. You sang to me at night when I was sick.
86. You let my parents help you take care of me when I was sick.
87. You read and study your Bible.
88. You speak in tongues.
89. You are forever organizing our garage.
90. You have great taste in clothes and furniture.
91. You have exciting goals and dreams for our life.
92. You think I’m smart.
93. You worked full time while getting your MBA.
94. You have made it a point to have older mentors in your life.
95. Your brown eyes.
96. You are not pretentious or materialistic.
97. You like bold colors, like I do.
98. Your impersonation of an Indian accent is priceless.
99. You respect your father.
100. You took me horseback riding the day we got engaged, even though riding isn’t your thing.

The kind who should never own dogs

I am still, almost three weeks later, stewing over the guy I passed on the freeway doing 75 who had an albino, 3-legged dog in the bed of his truck WITH THE TAILGATE DOWN.

So instead of giving it to Jesus and politely letting it go, I decided to have a chat with him. I paralleled his truck for about 20 seconds, whilst waving my arm and yelling at him that your tailgate is down! And you are GOING TO KILL YOUR ALREADY-MAIMED DOG, YOU NUT JOB!

Never mind that I was so hysterical that I forgot to roll down the window.

And never mind that instead of yelling back at me, he did something far worse. That man waved his hand in a condescending motion, like he was patting a dog’s head. And don’t think I didn’t catch the “Calm down, crazy lady, I do this all the time and my dog loves it” words he mouthed.

Right. I’m sure your dog thoroughly enjoys the terrible flashbacks he gets while hanging on for dear life in the bed of the truck that he lost his leg falling out of THE FIRST TIME.

I’m also sure your dog is thrilled at the prospect that the next time you take a sharp turn, he’ll be walking on TWO legs the rest of his life like a circus monkey.

Unbelievable.

She Squats on an Incline

Every morning when I take Emma for her morning business, WITHOUT FAIL, she positions herself to pee standing on an incline. Which means depending on her position, she ends up peeing on her front or back paws.

Does she incline-pee any other time of day? NO. She’ll walk miles to find flat ground when R and I take her out at night. She only slantways-squats in THE MORNING.

And I just stand there. Staring.

And then she trudges back into my apartment. With her paws. On my carpet.

I wish I had a picture for you. It would help you to grasp the frustration.

It’s not like I’m motivated enough to fix the peeing problem, only motivated enough to whine about it.

What would I do anyway? Anticipate her sniffing and then reposition her the instant she squats? Like I have the reflexes of someone with really good reflexes? And IN THE MORNING?

PLEASE.

Maybe I would do more about the problem if it wasn’t happening (have i mentioned?) IN THE MORNING at the ungodly hour of 7:45am which, AS EMMA KNOWS, is a good hour before mama starts caring about anything. Including people.

I don’t even know how to end this post. It’s past my bedtime and all I could think to to write about before I slip into sawing the BIGGEST LOGS EVER is how Emma is going to pee on herself tomorrow morning?

I am sorry if you read this post. Truly.

Goodnight.

Zoiy 2014!

Tonight R and I watched the closing Olympic ceremonies. And by watched, I mean R sat on the couch watching and I sat on the couch texting my niece who is in junior high because how long before I am not cool to her anymore–days, weeks, maybe? Time is of the essence with 14 year olds. And the winter olympics comes around every four years, people.

Anyway.

As you may know, Sochi is the Russian city that will host the next winter olympics.

I’m not sure if you watched Russia’s little presentation at the closing, but
I caught bits of it in between LOL/OMG/IDKing with my niece every 9 seconds.

And it just so happened that the bits I caught were SO DISTURBING TO MY EYES. I mean, we all know that the Russians are like the South Korean short track speed skaters of the ballet world. We get it. You’re good at ballet. But why the Russians dressed their ballerina-men (what is the name for a male ballerina? Ballerino?) in nothing but long shirts and leotards that exposed everything up to their backsides is beyond me.

Dear Sochi: PLEASE CLOTHE YOUR MALE BALLERINAS POST HASTE. Thank you. And putting nude nylons on them is not “clothing.” Ahem. You have 4 years to find appropriate attire. Chop chop. And also, it will never–I repeat–NEVER be ok to put your men in a one piece swimsuit leotard thingy. Thank you.

And to top off the night, here’s a little convo that happened during the closing ceremonies.

Me: Why does that big sign and all the “Sochi” promo jackets say “Zoiy” (my pronunciation: zOyee) underneath the word Sochi?

R: What?

Me: (pointing to the screen) See? Right THERE. It says Z-O-I-Y underneath the word Sochi. Is that the Russian word for Sochi?

R: No, baby. *Sochi* is the Russian word for Sochi. And that doesn’t say Zoiy. It says “2014.”

I rest my case.