Digging for worms, eating Ice cream and Playing checkers

Yesterday, Mason took over my evening. After dinner, which I actually cooked(spaghetti which I thought I could convince my stomach was a good idea but apparently, my stomach is pretty stubborn), I desperately wanted a bowl of Cookies and Cream Ice cream with milk poured over it. Does that sound gross? Because it's not. Not at all. It's like milk shake. Anyway, as any mother of a four year old knows, ice cream can not be served to one without serving it to all. So, I dished us out two bowls of ice cream and sat there at the table enjoying it. We just sat there talking about our days and random things. It is so crazy to have a conversation with a four year old. Some things they say make absolutely no sense. Others are so profound - "God must have spilled a lot of water up in heaven because he knew daddy needed the grass to grow."

After our ice cream, I retreated to the couch because, still, food doesn't always settle that well. Mason went outside to "do something." A few minutes later with this little grin of desperation, he comes back in - oh, you have to know what he is wearing - a green shirt that can "get diwty", football underwear, and brown dress shoes. That's it. So cute. Anyway, he comes in and says, "Mom, pleeeease can you come outside really quickly to see sumthin?" Well, of course I had to say yes. So we go outside, he hands me a shovel and says, "We're diggin' for worms." And he proceeds to drag me by the hand to the best worm diggin' spots in our yard. So that's what we did. I would dig for a while and if a worm happened to wiggle to the surface, Mason, with extreme giddiness, plucks him from the soil and puts him in a clear cup with his other finds. I am not a huge fan of worms or any wiggly, slimy creature, but he kept trying to get me to hold one. I kept telling him no because they were gross, etc. and he kept saying, "But momma, I promise they are not gross and they don't bite at all." I finally just lied and told him the worm germs would be bad for the baby. I know. I am terrible. After we had caught 4-5 worms, we went inside where Mason decided it was necessary to unearth all the worms from his cup and put them on a piece of paper in his room. So he did. At one point I was helping him dig out a particularly long and fat worm. I absentmindedly, in helping him, laid my leg down on the paper full of worms. Well, when I lifted my leg up they all stuck to it. Mason panicked when he didn't see the worms on his paper and nearly burst into tears and starting yelling at Maggie,our dog, for eating the worms. Then I saw the pile of slimy worms stuck to my leg and let out a shriek that I am sure the neighbors heard and started flinging worms in every direction. Mason who was now aware of what was happening, started to cry because I "didn't like his worms and I had killed them all." I started laughing because it was all just so funny and then tried to tell him, without touching the worms, that I did like the worms and it just scared me to have them stuck to my leg. I then pointed out that they were all still wiggling and therefore they were alive. I finally convinced him that I didn't hate his worms and he forgave me, but more importantly I convinced him that we should let the poor worms rest and that we were definitely should not cut them up for when he and dad go fishing. Poor little worms.

After the worm excitement, Mason taught me how to play checkers. I get red. He gets black. We pile them in front of us and then takes turns throwing checkers at each others piles. If we hit any, we get to keep them. We play until, well, I don't know when because he kept changing the rules until I told him it was bed time.

Man, what a night.

Hasn't sunk in because I won't let it sink...

I will be 12 weeks pregnant on Thursday. That means I am almost past the point of any real risk of miscarriage. For some reason with this pregnancy I am really worried about losing the baby. With Mason it was a concern but it didn't consume me. With this baby, I have pushed almost any thought of the actual baby from my mind. I haven't imagined holding her or him. Or feeding the baby or the nursery or anything. When I see a baby, I don't think, "In just six months..." and when I go to stores I don't ooh and ahh over baby stuff. I am just so scared to get excited. I don't really know why I feel this way. Maybe it's just because I feel like everyone I talk to has known someone or has had a miscarriage. Or maybe it's because this baby was planned and tried for so I am more appreciative of the miracle growing(quite rapidly) inside of me. Or maybe it's because I feel like everything in our life has been so easy and wonderful and we don't deserve that for some ridiculous reason. Or maybe it's just psycho pregnant hormones. I don't know. But I am ready to let it sink in. I mean, I am already wearing maternity jeans for crying out loud! I have even told my students who, by the way, were so WAY excited. Like girls screaming and guys asking questions that I never thought they would have cared to know - like names and due date. It's time for me to let it sink in. I am having a baby. A baby. A cuddly, gurgling, crying, soft skinned, adorable baby. I am not going to let fear rob me of this special time any longer.

By the way, 12 weeks also marks the end of the first trimester. Maybe Jenny will return and the nauseous zombie will retreat into hiding. Or at least make a few less appearances.

Bye Baby

Yesterday as I was stumbling out of the house, wishing that I could somehow miraculously prepare for a sub rather than go to work in the sick body I woke up in, I said bye to Mason. He said, "bye momma." and I walked out the door. Then I heard this, "Bye Baby!" I came back in and said, "What did you say?" And he said, "Bye baby." I almost cried. I told him how sweet he was for already being such a great big brother. And peeled myself away from him.

Bye Baby. How is he so darn sweet?

Sick

I feel sick, sick, sick. And for once it is not tummy sick. It's sneezing, sniffling, itchy eyes...basically I could be in a nyquil commercial. My throat is on fire. It's all red and hurts so bad when I swallow. My head is pounding on the right side - the kind of pounding where your eye gets all squinty from the pain. My nose is constantly dripping and I believe I have sneezed about 38 times since I woke up two hours ago. I am sick. Sick. Sick. The bad thing is I don't know what I can take to help me. I can't talk to my doctor(it's sunday) and I just can't remember what I can take besides tylenol. Which tylenol usually does nothing for me anyway. I just want to crawl back in bed forever. Forever. I have never gotten this suddenly sick so fast. I've had a sore throat for a few days, but it was like I woke up in another person's body this morning. A poor sick person's body. The good news, though, is that the last few days I have felt considerably better tummy wise. I haven't had the major food aversions like I was and when I eat I don't feel near as sick. Also, hunger isn't as debilitating as it was a week ago. I am still pretty tired but I can handle tired. But now I am sick sick. Ugh. I wonder if I could/should take the day off tomorrow. Probably not. It is such a pain to be out when you are a teacher. Hopefully this is one of those 24 hour colds. I don't have time for anything else.

missing my dad

My dad died in 1999. This September it will be 8 years. For the most part, I still miss him but rarely cry about it or get too upset about it. The whole experience of losing a loved one is so much easier when you know that person is just waiting for you in heaven. But every once in a while I will see, hear or smell something that will make me miss Dad as though it all happened yesterday.

I was grading these projects my students turned in on Monday and came upon one that was a blown up map of europe taped over some other boardgame. It looked very much like the game Risk. My student had drawn all these paths around the game that detailed paths of attack and battle sites basically reinacting World War 2. There was one tiny section of the game that I am almost certain was written in his dad's handwriting. It was that angular, very straight writing that so many dads, including my own, have. As I sat there staring at the board, I could just imagine my student and his dad working on this project together, discussing battle tactics, troop numbers, and how to create this very unique game. It just made me ache because my dad loved the game risk and also I loved showing my dad the things I did in school and working on projects with him. I was so envious of my student in that moment because of what he and his dad were able to do together. Sometimes I just wish I could show my dad the things I have done or how amazing a husband Troy is or most of all, how perfect his grandson is. Most of the time, I don't really get sad about his death. Because, like I said, I know without a shadow of doubt, he is in heaven just waiting for our family to be reunited. But, every once in a while, the ache of that loss comes to the surface.

I think memory, the ability to recall details, sounds, sights, smells of our past, is one of the greatest gifts God gives us. Have you ever really thought about how amazing it is? That I can remember with absolute clarity the way Dad's hugs would feel after a bad dream; how the taste of a butterscotch sundae will remind me of stopping at dairy Queen on the way home from Christmas pageant practice; still being able to see the wrinkles on my grandmother's hands as she would sew; a cologne that can bring my grandad back for a moment; the smell of gardenia returning me to my Hawaiian honeymoon; the lyrics to a song that remind me of a carefree day with friends. What a gift that is. What a gift the power of memory is. Without it, death would be an absolute. Loss would be unbearable. But, because of memory, I can see a gameboard and remember my dad in a whole new way. And for a brief, fleeting moment, he is with me again. What a blessing it is that God gave us the ability and the desire to remember what should never be forgotten.

Pictures!!!

Okay, all these pictures are out of order so I hope you don't mind. I am getting very frustrated with blogger right now. Refer to entry titled, "Roller Coaster Ride".

Me and my very beautiful friend on her very beautiful day!

Michael(the groom, of course) and Mason posing for what are sure to be adorable pictures!

Me and my very handsome boys!

Mike wasn't the only one getting kisses from the bride!!!

The reception hall was perfect! I don't think Kylah could have been happier!

The very beautiful centerpieces at the wedding - aren't the flowers beautiful!?

Kylah getting smooched by her mom and grandmother after her very beautiful bridal brunch.

Rollercoaster Ride

Everything about this pregnancy is like my first just more - more hunger, more pooch, more ick, more tired, more emotion. The emotions are getting out of control people. I go from angry to joyous to crying for no reason. Like for example, last night I got almost giddy when I remembered I bought a muffin mix and could make and eat them in the morning. Giddy - like big smile and felt like the world was a better place because of that muffin mix.Then, in 4th period today, we were watching channel one and they were doing a thing on soldiers going back to Iraq after R&R. My 4th period got pretty darn close to witnesssing a full blown sobfest. I get uncontrollably frustrated doing dishes. Like livid. Can't stand when water splashes on me and run for cover if I happen to step in a water droplet with a sock on. It's kind of funny really. Well, to me. For Troy, it is probably horrific. Poor guy. Hopefully, he'll just ride the roller coaster with me until the end. He is so great...sniffle...sniffle....see here we go again. Man, October is going to take forever to get here....

Kylah Henry is now Kylah Kotze!

We survived! The wedding and all the preparation and cleanup is over and was a beautiful, wonderful success. I can't believe my best friend is married! Married! It's funny how a wedding can get so unfocused. You get so wrapped up in how to put runners on the tables that you kind of forget that someone is getting married. And then there's a moment when you look at the new couple and you realize your best friend didnt just have a beautiful wedding, she actually got married. That moment for me was when she and Mike drove away at the end. Yes, I knew she was married before that, but that is when it hit me that she was married in the sense that he would be her new best friend and that her life would revolve around him. Whether we want it to or not, our friendship will change. But probably for the better! Now, we're both old married gals and if we can just get our husbands(I can't believe I just said "our husbands") to hang out more, our friendship will change into a couples friendship. Now, that sounds like fun!

I would love to upload some of the 300 pictures I took from the wedding, but, because Troy and I are still in the stone age and have dial up, it takes way too long to upload them. When I go to my school, I will upload pictures. I have quite a few good ones. When I do that I will also give you some of the amazing details of the wedding - like the tearjerking words from Kylah's dad, the horrific wiggling of my ringbearer son, the way I totally forgot to straighten Kylah's train because I was so enthralled by her beauty and Mike's happy face, the way all the bridesmaids feet will never be the same after wearing the shoes that went with our dress, and a million other details.

To Kylah and Mike,
Have a wonderful, fantastic, relaxing honeymoon! I love you both and am so happy that God somehow brought a West Texas Homecoming queen into the arms of a south african Basketball player. I know, without a doubt, that your marriage will be fun, romanctic, and amazing. I am so glad that I was a part of your amazing day.

22 minutes

22 minutes until Spring Break officially begins.

Thank you Jesus for making the person who thought of Spring Break.

Staying at home

I want to stay at home. I know the world knows this but I don't know if they get it. I want to stay at home - not so that I can be PTO sponsor, not so I can take my son to the park every day, not so I can be a "better" mom than a working mom, but so I can fulfill this lifelong dream of mine. I have always, always, wanted to just be a mom and wife. To wake up in the morning and know that my family will come first. There are millions of moms out there who are fantastic at working and being a wife and mom. I am not one of them. I can't do both. I am not happy doing both. Let's move to an apartment, let's sell a car, let's move to the cheapest city in America, I don't care. I just want to be a mom. Like my mom was, like my mom's mom was.

Last night after working for nine hours, I picked up my bridesmaid dress and shoes, ran home to grab the veggie tray I made for mops, rushed to mops to be there, saw my son and husband for about five minutes when he dropped him off at the church for me, went to mops, came home to drop off mason and to pick up some vases to take to Kylah's house, took the vases to her, checked the opening times of two nail salons praying one was open at 8am on saturday, went to HEB to order Mason's birthday cake, finally got home, did the dishes and started picking up the house. As I was picking up the house, I picked up two white photocopied coloring sheets of Mickey Mouse. Mason had started coloring them but I took one glance at them and crumpled them up this "clutter" to throw in the trash. He saw me do this. I kept going until I heard him say, "b-b-but, those are..." and then big alligator tears of hurt began to flow from his eyes. Those were special pictures for mommy and daddy. Not clutter. But I was too busy to ask. Too busy to care. I uncrumpled the pictures and gave them to him and apologized again and again. But it still happened. I crumpled his masterpiece because I was too busy to even look at it.

I don't want to be that busy. I know that stay at home moms are busy too. Probably busier, but maybe their busy matters.

I crumpled my son's masterpiece so I could check off something on my to do list. What's wrong with me?

Mason

Finally - a picture of my little guy! What a cute FOUR YEAR OLD!!!

Nine weeks and the Rubberband is out.

So, yeah, I am only Nine Weeks(yes I am for those of you who acted like I didn't know what i was talking about last week when I said I was 8 weeks.) and already I am holding my pants up with a rubberband looped through the buttonhole. At nine weeks! This is not supposed to be happening yet!!! In my defense, these are some of my tighter jeans and I can button them but the pressure on my tummy makes me feel ickier. That's a word. The good news is that my boobs are growing at the same rate and for someone who has been breastly challenged her whole life, this is definitely an appreciated growth!

Mason is 4!!!

My son turns four today. Four. I have been his mother for four whole years. How crazy is that? I can't believe that he is four. Next year he will be five, starting KINDERGARTEN. How is that possible? Yesterday he smiled for the first time. Yesterday, he learned how to crawl, yesterday he learned how to ask for juice, yesterday he "read" me Brown Bear, Brown Bear. How can he be four. At this rate, next week he will be in 7th grade. I can't imagine that. Scary. I need to go. I have to start praying...

a letter from an old friend

Today I got a letter from my friend Sarah Ruth. She and I have been friends since we were 4 years old. That means we have been friends for two decades people. When I saw her name on the return address I quickly tore into the envelope just dying to see what it held. I was reading along and there it was: "I wanted to let you know that I'm getting married this summer..." I was beyond thrilled. Sarah is amazing girl and I have been dying to find out what lucky guy would snag her. At the end of the email, she gave me a website for the wedding. I of course promptly checked it.

That's when it hit me. Sarah Ruth was getting married. I scrolled through the pictures of her fiance looking at her adoringly, of Sarah looking so beautiful and happy and my eyes teared up. There she was, my best friend through those endless years of childhood that have now ended. We are no longer 12. We no longer watch Anne of Green Gables 40 times a month. We don't play house. We can't ask her parents if we can please stay up a little longer. We are women. It made me feel so old. Not in the normal way. Not in the "man I am ancient" way but in the harsh realization that childhood is done. Sarah represented all that is childhood to me - making up games together, impromptu slumber parties, getting in silly fights, all those glorious things of friendship in those early years.

I am so very happy for this friend and I would want nothing more than the perfect romance I saw flashing before me, but I just wish we could go back once and again, you know? Go back to when the biggest care we had was how to convince her little sister Bekah to not play with us or begging her mom not to put half the amount of sugar in the koolaid pitcher. I don't know. I guess when I saw Sarah looking so grown up and beautiful and in love, I realized that childhood is over. I know this is incredibly silly. I mean, I have been married for almost 7 years, I have a 4 year old and a baby on the way, and I am a teacher. I have been "grown up" for quite some time. But seeing your best friend all grown up smiling at the love of her life is different. It means we are all growing up. And there isn't any going back.

Until I see my son. His childhood is just beginning and I get to experience that with him. I get to be the mom who puts half the sugar in the koolaid jar or who lets him have a friend over on a school night. I get to watch him make up games with his friends and learn what a best friend really is. It's not the same but it's just as great.

I am a grown up. I may make up games with Mason and I might still watch Anne of Green Gables enough to have it memorized, but it won't ever be the same as it was. I will never again be the lanky 12 year old who did cart wheels in the living room or giggled for hours about the latest Baby Sitter club book. I miss childhood. I do. I miss its innocence, the carefreeness of it, the perfection of a summer afternoon spent with a good friend. But it's still there. The innocence, the carefreeness, the perfect summer day still happens just in different ways, with different friends like my husband, my son and my other "grown up" friends.

To Sarah,
I love you - for the memories, the laughs, and the friendship that taught me what friendship meant. I am so very happy for you and Michael and I pray your life be filled with carefree hours, the innocence of love and a million perfect summer days even in the dead of winter. Congratulations!

6th period

What is it about my 6th period class?

All day long, my classes have been doing a websearch. Every class, 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th has come in, gotten to work, asked just a few rare questions. They all completed the assignment and were content to browse the website if finished early.

Then comes 6th period. They come in loudly. They have asked a million dumb questions like
"Do I get on the internet to see the website?" and just don't get it. It is amazing. It's like after about 2pm brains just shut off.

Thank the Lord I don't have a 7th period.

foot steps

Yesterday I was looking for quotes on love, marriage etc for this lingerie shower thing I am doing. I found one by Ronald Reagan that brought tears to my eyes.

"There is no greater happiness for a man than approaching a door at the end of a day, knowing someone on the other side of that door is waiting for the sound of his footsteps."

I am so thankful that I still listen for my husbands footsteps and the sound of the garage door shutting behind him fills me joy and security.

I remember when we were first married and we lived in our apartment I could tell he was coming by the sound of the car locking, and his pounding footsteps coming up the stairs. That was my favorite sound then.

I think his footsteps approaching may still be my favorite sound...