Motherhood: It's a real.......

How you finish reading the title of this post in your head will vary, depending on the day, I'm sure. At least, it will if you're a mom like me.

My entire life, all I've ever wanted is to be a wife and mother. That's it. Maybe not the biggest goals in some peoples eyes, but to me, it was the ultimate achievement. I'm not even really sure why. Maybe because my mom did everything so well I just wanted to be like her. I don't know. What I do know is that was my heart's desire.

The marriage happened in 2008, after I met the love of my life 4 years before. We have a good marriage. In my opinion, we have the best. After being married for 4 (almost 5) years, when I finally talked Dan into having a baby, I may have bitten off a bit more than I had thought about.

I basically grew up as an only child, what with Russ being so much older than me, so I hadn't really been around babies. Oh, sure, I'd seen my younger cousins when they were born, and my most recent baby experience was taking care of my great-niece Mady. I'd changed diapers for her, fed her, gave her baths, and everything. What else was there? So, I felt pretty prepared.

I absolutely loved being pregnant. It constantly amazes me how God has created us, and allows us to carry these tiny little humans while He makes them grow and form inside our bellies. I don't think I'll ever get over that. The first couple months were rough because I was sick every morning, but my husband was a complete sweetheart about it all and brought me orange juice in bed before leaving for work. He never missed a single day until I was over the morning sickness. Once I entered the second trimester, I was on cloud nine. I wasn't nearly as tired, I wasn't sick, and I had this cute little baby belly. It was awesome. The third trimester was even better. I had always heard how terrible it was and how your feet swelled so large that you couldn't walk, back pain was horrendous, and you were constantly in the bathroom. I think I was just blessed. My feet never swelled until after my son was born, I had no back pain, and I really didn't go to the bathroom much more than I usually did. And I loved my big belly! Feeling my son move was the greatest feeling in the world. I had the best birth experience, too. No, I disn't have him at home or in a birthing center. Although I admire women who choose ro do that, unmedicated, I did not want that. I was always afraid something would go wrong in the middle of the birth and I wouldn't have time to get somewhere. So, I chose to have him in a hospital. And yes, I had an epidural. I wanted to be happy through the birth. I didn't want to be cranky and exhausted the first time I saw my son. Thankfully, I wasn't.  And after he was born, I felt as though I was in a dream. When the doctor laid him on my chest for the first time, I looked in his eyes......and that was it. I was completely hooked. In love. And filled with this immediate thoughts of worry. Worry. About. Everything! But mostly in love with this little person.

His first few days were so scary for me. He would cry, and I wouldn't know why. I was scared to death that he was starving because I couldn't feel that I had any milk. It was my intention from the get go to nurse him. So much so, that I never even had a bottle. I had just decided I was nursing and that was that. It never occurred to me that I wouldn't have enough milk for him, so I'm sure you can understand my devastation when not only do I have to feed him formula, but after he takes it, he throws up. Within the first 2 weeks of his life, he saw his pediatrician twice, an urgent care doctor and a chiropractor. He wasn't gaining weight and was crying all the time. I was a nervous wreck. I think the main reason I was so nervous is because it had never occurred to me that I wouldn't have the most perfect baby ever.

See, I had this naive vision about this "perfect baby". And not only a perfect baby, but the perfect life. The baby would only cry when he was hungry, he would sleep peacefully in his bassinet while I would cook hot meals to have for my husband when he came home, and people would talk about what a perfect baby he was. Yeah. That didn't happen.........as I'm sure it doesn't happen with most new mothers.

I wasn't able to do anything. I could barely even leave the couch. The baby needed to be held all the time, because if I laid him down, he'd cry. I felt like the biggest failure as a mother. I mean, I was comforting my child, but it wasn't long term. I couldn't carry on a conversation with my husband.....or really anyone......because I couldn't focus. I couldn't leave the house because my son would cry and scream so intensely that I was sure people would think I was hurting him. I was slowly sinking into a depression worse than postpartum. Poor Dan would look at me and say "Are you sure THIS is making you happy?!" What could I do? I knew something was wrong. I knew that he couldn't just be that miserable.

I finally started listening to the mother voice in me and not everyone else. After watching him while he ate, in between times, and talking to the pediatrician, it was discovered that he had acid reflux. Acid reflux! In a baby!! I couldn't believe it, but after just one dose of the medicine, he made a drastic change and I knew he was better. It didn't completely change the crankiness, though. Don't get me wrong, he was 100% better. I wasn't wanting to run up and down the street screaming after that. I was able to talk to people again, but something else was still wrong. 

I then changed the formula that he was on. I had been told by the chiropractor that he was probably allergic to the cows milk formula, so we had switched him to soy....which seemed to constipate him. So before we discovered the acid reflux, the doctor changed him back to a milk based formula. I felt like it was still wrong, so I moved him to a hypoallergenic formula. This really helped! After being on it for a couple weeks, he was really changing. 
It was about that time when it was pointed out to me by an aunt (and probably the 4th or 5th person in general) about how he leaned his head to the left. All the time. I finally got ahold of my motherly fears and got a grip on my senses and took him for his first chiropractor adjustment. It's a scary thing taking your 3 month old to be "cracked", as my dad would say. Thankfully we have a wonderful pediatric chiropractor who explained to me that he's not really cracking anything, just using a very small amount of pressure to move things back where they need to go. With babies, mostly they just have cartiledge, so there's not really any moving of bones involved. This has done the trick. Talk about changing a baby! He's completely different. His moods are so much better that I'm starting to feel more like I thought I would. Excited to spend my days with this happy little boy that smiles all the time. 

Now, he still cries. He's very opinionated. He knows what he wants and when he wants it, but it doesn't drive me to distraction. And he comes by it honest. 

So, to complete my original thought, motherhood can be a real....pain, hardship, blessing, joy, scary thing, and amazing experience that any mother will tell you is the greatest thing she's ever done. Because when I wake up and see his little face smiling back at me (yes, we co-sleep, no I don't think it's the worst decision ever), I thank God for this sweet baby. I could have a lot more money and time to myslef, but I wouldn't have him. He's worth it. And even at my worst moment, I know that I'm doing the best thing that I will ever do. 

I try not to, but I know sometimes I take him for granted. Just a couple weeks ago, a cousin of mine gave birth to a beautiful baby girl, and at the same time she was in labor, I learned of a friends miscarriage. It could have been me. I'm so thankful that God saw fit to bless our lives with this amazing little person and I can't wait to get to know him. 

               Love you, Declan Jude. 

Let me tell you a story.......

Once upon a time........well, let's not start this way. This isn't a fairy tale. Those don't exist in real life, but this is probably as close to one as you can get. 

It all started in 2004.

I was 16 when my brother started searching for a guitar player for a bluegrass gospel band he had formed called "Mount Zion". He had been to Nashville to record their first nationally released CD, and had been told by Jeff and Ray Deaton that, although Russ was perfectly fine as a guitar player for the group, he needed to be playing mandolin......because......well, if you've ever heard Russ play mandolin, you would know that he can pick one so hot it almost catches fire. So, their reasoning was sound, but finding a guitar player of the quality Russ would want was going to be hard. 

One day shortly following this fateful trip, a semi-frequent customer came in the store. He knew of Russ' trip to Nashville and the band formation, so he asked how things were going. When Russ explained the events of the trip, the customer said "Well, I may know of someone for you. He's a Mennonite, but he's the finest guitar picker I've heard." Russ responded with a look of confusion, and the statement that Mennonites don't play music. The man assured Russ that, although he would normally agree with him, this was not a normal case. So, Russ agreed to meet with the supposed "Mennonite". 

After their first meeting, I asked Russ how things went. He said "Well, he was right. That kid is fine. He's 21.....and probaby one of the best guitar players I've ever heard." My first thought was "21 and a guitar player! I've got to meet this guy!" So when I voiced this thought to Russ, his reply was......... well, not very enthusiastic. I was basically told the guy wasn't my type, and to forget about it. So I did. Until the next practice was set. I made sure that I ran late enough to still be at the store for when it started. I'll never forget the first time I heard him play. I was in with a student, and couldn't even see him, but I heard a guitar break, and was so impressed! I remember thinking "If this guy looks half as good as he plays, I'm going for it!". So, I finished up with my student and headed out front to see what was what. When I walked out and saw him.....the player of the guitar....the...."Mennonite"......He wasn't at all what I expected. He was......skinny.....short......and wore huge glasses. He was wearing a pair of jeans and a polo shirt, and looked like he hadn't shaved in a day or two. I probably don't have to tell you this, but at 16, when your hormones are going crazy and you have certain ideas of how someone should look or act, you tend to sluff off anything that doesn't fit in the tiny box that is your mind. So I think I nodded and maybe said hello before I made a beeline for the door. 

No. He wasn't what I was looking for. 

Over the course of the next few months, I had my 17th birthday, and life was pretty much the normal. Mom, dad, and myself started going to several Mount Zion shows........you know.......to support Russ. I enjoyed going to the shows, and was really starting to enjoy looking at the new guitar player. I didn't like the fact that I was enjoying it, but I reeally couldn't help myself. I mean, he was too skinny and short. He was not my type at all. (Because we all know at 17 everyone has their type picked out.)

In April of 2005, Russ was going to a local studio to start work on the next Mount Zion CD project, with the new arrangement. It would feature several old standards, and lots of original material. I remember being told about one particular studio trip where  Russ says he was asked tons of questions about me on the way there by a certain skinny guitarist. I wondered why in the world he was asking about me?? Maybe he caught me staring at him at one of the shows and thinks I'm some kind of psyco?  I tried not to think about it too much and just go on. Yeah. That didn't work. 

By June, one of us, and I still to this day don't know which one, decided to start talking to the other one. I realized that he had a subtle sense of humor that most everyone he was around didn't pick up on, so it made it really funny. Plus he had a sweet spirit about him, and he seemed very kind. The more time I spent around him, the more I liked him. One night that same month, I decided to go out on a limb and invite him to my house for supper. He was in town for a show and Russ and Skyla had plans with her partents, so I thought "what better excuse?" When I asked him, I don't know that he took me seriously right away, but after I insisted, he accepted and a plan was made for me to pick him up. When the hour arrived and I pulled in at the music store........well, let's just say we both got some looks. I didn't really care, Supper went good, except for one incident with a salt shaker that I won't reveal the details of. And we even took a picture to commemorate the event. 

                                         

Aftter that night, we were pretty much really good friends. We talked every few days and emailed some. Being an hour and a half from each other, that was pretty much our options. And I mean, we were, after all, just good friends, so what more did we need?

In July, I invited him up for my 18th birthday where we argued over what part of my cake he would eat, and then went for a drive to the Louisburg picnic where our lives changed forever. I don't know how it happened (I say that a lot in this story), but when we left the picnic that night, we were a couple. Then is when the real phone conversations started. The monday following my birthday, we talked for 3 hours.....but that was nothing in the grand scheme of things. We once stayed on the phone for 8, with most of the conversations averaging 4-5. As I say, we were 1 1/2 hours apart, with him not driving, so building a relationship on that type of situation isn't easy. We called, we emailed, and waited until a show came up so we could see each other. Weeks turned to months, arguments happened, things were forgiven, many shows passed, and finally an opportunity arose for him to move to Buffalo. Thankfully, he took it. 

Dating seriously changes when you're used to having phone conversations to get you by for 2 months at a time, then all of a sudden you can see each other every day. It was pretty awesome, and I'm sure I  took advantage many times, and drove him crazy. I just couldn't help myself. I was so in love with this man, who, thanks to mine and mom's cooking, wasn't so skinny and short anymore. My 20th birthday was what we counted as our 2 year dating anniversary. I wasn't really expecting anything, but I was hoping. I had been after him for a while to make a move. His proposal was quirky, and completely untraditional. Pretty much our whole relationship. I of course said yes, and we set the wedding date for one year and one month away. 

                                                       

A lot can hapen in a year. Even a lot of things that can test a relationship's strength. It was during this time that my mom was first diagnosed with cancer and I learned how much that I needed him. He was there for me the entire time. Mom lost her arm during that year, but she was still there for every step of my wedding planning, and anxious for me to get married. She told me that she knew she wouldn't always be with me and she wanted to know I would be taken care of. So the wedding went on as scheduled.  Our first year was hard, as is everyones, because learning to live with someone is hard work. But, I think it's safe to say that we handled things well, and eventually adjusted to each other. 

I learned so much during those dating years, but it never compairs with living with someone. First off, I thought when we were dating that he just didn't like his full name. Wrong. He HATES being called by his full name. There is no "Daniel" in our house. There is Dan. And he likes beans for breakfast. He occasionally likes mustard on his sandwhiches and desperately needs time to himself whenever he can. He was not a Mennonte, regardless of other peoples opinion. He pretty much has to drink with a straw. He likes to be taken care of when he's really sick, but when he's just a little sick, you best leave him alone. He loves his routein, and doesn't like breaking it for anyone. And this is just a teeny tiny portion of things that I have learned.......and sometimes learned the hard way. 

When I said a lot can happen in a year, take that times 5 and that brings us to now. We've had countless arguments, just as many make up sessions, 4 promotions, 1 job location change, overnight shifts, family events and celebrations, church services, and just last year we lost mom. She was right when she said that I would be taken care of. Dan was with me through it all, being my strength, holding me when I felt like I would fall, and being a shoulder when I just needed to cry. I couldn't have made it through without him. 

And now we're entering another new and exciting chapter by adding in a sweet little boy. This pregnancy is something that I am enjoying so much! I'm sure that by the end of it, though, it will be another test of our marriage......as will the raising of our child. I don't have any doubts about wether we'll make it though. I signed on for the long haul, and I know he did too.  

Happy number 5, honey. I love you.

And they lived most blessedly together forever. 

The end. 

The pregnancy hoax?

So the doctors say your pregnant? 

Congratulations! 

Now what?

You wait, that's what. 

I'm sure part of it is the anticipation of seeing our first little one, but it seems as though time is going slowly. Another part is probably because I found out so early. I suspected my pregnancy 6 days before I took my first positive home test, and 11 days before I had a confirmed test by a doctor. At the time of the doctor visit I was told I was 5 weeks along. So I guess you could say I'm one of those women who knew right away. I managed to keep it a secret from everyone (except Dan of course) for another 2-3 weeks until I went to an OB/GYN and get completely checked out. Luckily for me I felt bigger than I needed to be for 7 weeks, so I got an early ultrasound. I say luckily because I think that was the only thing that truly made my mind accept that there was a baby in there! 

After that first doctor's visit, I felt normal for a couple days. Then, the morning sickness came. Once it was here, I hated it. Mostly because it wasn't "morning" sickness. I was sick all day. Sick and exhausted. By the time that I went back to the doctor at about 11 1/2 weeks, I was sure I was going to need some kind of pill or something. It turns out the only pill I needed was a good talking to by my doctor, who reminded me that everything was normal and that once I hit my second trimester if things weren't better she would prescribe something for me. Once that second trimester was here, it was like everything was over. Once I was able to get up right away of a morning, and stay up later than 7:30 at night, I felt like I had dreamed everything. I still wasn't showing and I wasn't sick. So what happened to the baby? 

Once I hit about 15 weeks, I "popped". My belly started sticking out and once again I felt like there was actually something happening in there. At my next doctors appointment, I was asked if I felt the baby move yet. Move? I still wasn't completely sure there was actually anything in there! I asked if I should be feeling it move by now, and they said it's not very common. Most women don't feel their babies until at least 18 weeks. I listened to a sweet heartbeat, that I'm pretty sure wasn't mine, and I was once again reassured that this wasn't some huge joke that someone was playing on me........until now.

Although my stomach is still growing, here I am at almost 18 weeks and haven't felt movement. So now I just feel fat. Every pregnancy is different, so I know there is still a baby in there, and I get to go to the doctor in less than 2 weeks. Once I'm there I get to see how much it has grown, by having my first ultrasound in 12 weeks. I'm very much looking forward to it. I will also get to stop referring to my child as "it". Lord willing and the baby cooperates, we'll know if it's a he or a she. 

Ever since I can remember, I have wanted to be a mommy. While there were other things that piqued my interest, having a husband and family of my own is the only thing that I have ever wanted. And now after 4+ years of marriage, we came to a point where we said "ok, it's time." 

The fact that I didn't have any younger siblings, and had never seen my mother pregnant worried Dan. I am the youngest of 2, he is the oldest of 9, so he had seen more pregnancy than he cared to know about. Not to mention the fact that most of those were home births, so all he wanted to tell me was how much I was going to scream during the birth and how horrible my hormones would be while I was carrying this child. I know I've had bad moments, but I'm hoping I'm not near the terror he was imagining. 

I remember when we first started dating and we would talk about getting married and having kids. We had a fight once about me giving birth at home. He wanted me to, and I........well.....didn't. There is no part of my brain at all that says this would be a good idea. At all. My idea of a safe birth is in a hospital, surrounded by doctors and nurses and access to drugs. Lots and lots of drugs. I didn't say that I will be using them, but it's nice to know they are there should the need arise. Plus I have lots of back and pelvis issues and I'm not even sure that I can give birth the natural way. After a lot of talking and explaining my feelings, Dan seems to have crossed over, and is now completely for the whole hospital birth thing. Which makes me feel even better. 

If you are one of the many women out there that gave birth at home, kudos. I admire you and think you are very brave. If you also went completely drug free, again I say you are an amazing person. I don't feel that I have the strength to do it. 

I know all these feelings are normal for a "first timer" and even through the sickness and the worry......and even though there is years and years of sickness and worry to come.....I have to say I'm enjoying the ride this far. 

I'm Baaaaack!

Well, everyone, I have finally returned. As I'm sure you noticed (or at least I hope you noticed), I have been MIA for quite sometime now. To tell the truth, writing in my blog has not been my number one priority. There have been so many changes and issues to get through the last few months, it's been all I could do to survive my normal day to day, much less try to write down how I'm feeling about it. 

For the past 9 months, I've been trying to function as a full grown adult with, what feels like, a little girl trapped inside. And if it were up to the little girl, and if I would allow myself, I could slip so easily into a deep depression that I know not how I could escape from, that I would wind up spending all day, every day, in bed.....eating. "All this is because your mom died?"  Yes. I know that it's difficult for some people to understand, but it's true.

The past couple of months have been better, and some days I'm actually glad to be out of bed. 

I've often thought of seeing a psychiatrist about my depression issues. It's still not out of the question, and has even been suggested to me by a few people.......my husband being one of them. I told him I would go if he would. We've kind of stalled out there. I actually feel like that with God's help, I'll eventually get passed a lot of this, and He has helped me a lot already, so I will probably just wait and see how it goes. 

 

Dan and I found out the first part of April that we are to be parents come December, and while I was so happy and excited to find out, I also felt a deep sense of guilt and sadness at the same time. My first thought was that my mom wasn't going to see it. I had several days of crying and praying and talking to various family members after that day, just so I could get a grip and understand that mom wouldn't be mad at me for going on living without her, and that everything would be ok. 

When I told Dan how I was feeling, his response was a simple question; "Knowing everything your mom went through, would you really have wanted to have a baby before she passed?" 

I had never thought about it that way, and he was right of course. It all comes back to the fact that God's timing is perfect. Regardless of wether we see it or not, He's got everything under control. 

He is sending us this baby when He wants it to come, and that is something to be thankful for. 

I'm nervous about this baby. For several reasons. Normal everyday new mom things.....I hope.

 The main one being that I've never had a child before and I don't know what to expect. I don't handle pain well, so I've already told my doctor that I want drugs. No joke, I'll take whatever kind they want to give me and as soon as they want to give it. Lol. 

Next, I'm afraid that I'm not going to know what to so with this kid once I get it home. I mean, what if it cries all the time and I can't get it to stop no matter what? Am I going to have the natural instincts to handle that? I've always heard that when it's your child it's different. Everything just comes to you, and is completely natural. I pray this is true, and everything will go as it should. My main prayer is that the baby is healthy. 

Dan says that I should worry about him because he doesn't think he'll be that great of a dad. I, however, disagree. I think that, like me, he'll have a hard time at first, but when we survive those first few weeks (months), he'll be a natural. He's already showing signs of greatness by worrying that he won't be good enough. He wants to make sure he's a good provider.....that his child is going to have bigger and better opportunities than he had. He's talking about traits that he hopes the baby will and will not inherit from him......and me. 

To me, these are all signs of good dad material. Though he hasn't said it in the conventional way yet, I know he loves this baby. He proves that by going to work every day to provide for us, by helping me pick out names (even though he doesn't want to, and would rather leave the name blank so the child can pick it out on their own), and by helping me out whenever he can. I read once that the very best way to be a good dad is by loving the baby's mother. I think he can handle that. 

I always remember my mom's words of advice when it came to Dan and children; "He'll be really good to you when you're carrying the baby, but don't be upset when he doesn't get all excited about it. He won't think a thing about it other than worrying about money and you. But once he is there with you when you have it, he'll love it, and that baby will be have him wrapped around it's finger." 

Mom was a smart lady. <3 And I'm counting on her to be right this time. 

December is still pretty far away and it will be a while before I know the answers to all my questions, so until then, I'll continue to think about names on my own, buy little baby things, imagine what he/she looks like, and pray that it's growing healthy inside me. You know. Mom things. 

Being a bachelorette stinks!

The original title of this post was going to be "28 days......a glimpse into the life of a Walmart widow"
But I got to thinking it might be a little too dramatic, and since my writing skills are on the 0-3 range, I opted for the current title. That way it saves disappointment.

Dan has received a promotion at work, and is now an Assistant Manager at one of the larger Walmart stores in the area. I'm so very proud of him. He definitely deserved it. However, I'm not so sure about this whole training business because it is the reason that I've been having to live alone.

My past living history is a simple one. I lived in my parents home until I was 21 and then I got married.  From that point, I have lived with my husband and have never been alone. Except for a time or two when he would have to work overnight or the time that he went to Nashville for 4 days to play music. During those 4 days I think I cried almost constantly until mom would look at me and tell me to "straighten up and calm down". (I'm still confused as to how I go both up and down at the same time, but mom knew best.) I remember being miserable the whole time and only going home to sleep. I was offered my old room at my parents house, but declined saying that I needed to learn to be alone. I've always been glad that I did that, and I think mom and dad were too.......even though they never said anything.
So now, it's not just 4 days.......it's 5 days and 5 nights per week for 4 weeks. Talk about culture shock!

I have to say that the first week wasn't that bad. Essentially the days went by pretty fast and I would spend the evening time with my dad. I was always home by 8:30 to 9 and could relax in my own home (in Dan's recliner) and watch whatever I wanted on TV while snacking on things that maybe I can't eat when Dan's home........like bananas. (I didn't eat bananas in his chair. I'm not cruel!) I didn't really worry if I kept the dishes done, or if I did laundry, because it was just me. I knew I'd get around to it sometime before he came home. (Not saying that my house is always spotless when Dan's home, but I like to have it cleaned as much as possible) I only use half the bed, so it's really easy to make up the next morning. Plus if I was asked to stay late at the store, or if something came up where I couldn't be home at a reasonable hour, I didn't worry because supper would be late. I'd just catch a bite on the run, or have a bowl of cereal when I got home. All of these things were pretty cool the first week, and I really didn't mind those first 5 days. JUST....the first 5 days.

When Friday of that week rolled around, I got up extra early, cleaned everything up, made a lemon pie and put some soup fixings in the crock pot. I have to say everything looked and smelled great. Like a home. I left the store early just to come home and do final preparations and enjoy my singleness in a clean house. The only problem was, I couldn't enjoy being alone. I was looking too forward to that yellow Nissan turning in the driveway. Once it did, everything was complete. I felt like me again. We had a good couple of days together.....then Sunday came.

Now, my brain didn't really want to start processing week 2, because, as I've said, 4 days is all we've ever been apart up to that time. After we'd made it that first week, my brain kept saying that was all there was to it, and he was home to stay.  So after church that night when I came home to an empty house again, I think my brain was thinking Dan was hiding in the closet or something. I kept going through some of the same situations I have about mom right now. Looking around for them........starting to say something and realizing they're not there.......saying "I'll need to ask them about it tonight".......etc.
I'm very fortunate, because I can still talk to Dan. All I have to do is text him and he'll answer me. I can't do that with mom. So, I think that thought helped me through that 2nd week. If I would ever get down and start feeling sorry for myself, I would try and remind myself of that very fact.

In spite of all the trouble I had those first couple days, week 2 still wasn't really bad. By this time, I started feeling really lonely when I went to sleep. So, I piled all the pillows on Dan's side of the bed, just so there would be a person sized lump there. And I turned on my TV every night to sleep by, so there would be noise in the room. Both of these things helped me SO much. I was actually able to sleep at night instead of "cat napping" all night, and I desperately needed sleep. I had a terrible cold and felt just plain awful. For the first time in my life, I wasn't living with someone to take care of me. Growing up was pretty much the only option. I mean, dad was there, but he's never had the caring touch that mom or even Dan has had when I was sick.
I lived in a fog for a couple days and really took advantage of not cooking or cleaning. I just plain didn't feel like it, so I didn't do it. I think it was Thursday of that week before I started getting over my cold enough to feel human again, which was great. I talked to myself like crazy trying to not get too excited about Dan coming home that weekend. I didn't want my brain going through what it went through before, so I kept telling myself that we were only half way done with this whole training process. Even as I was saying it, I knew my brain wasn't buying it, so I got just as excited as ever. The only trouble with that was neither one of us had a very good week; Can we say grumpy?

2 weeks of motel life with a stranger is not something that Dan can accept very easy. I can't blame him, I wouldn't be able to handle that at all. I feel like I'm too personal of a person to just move in and live with someone I've never met before. I think he'd only managed to get about 10 hours sleep for that whole week he was gone, so he did NOT feel like talking about his experiences from that week. I think Friday night I fell asleep about 8:30, had an auction on Saturday that I had to leave at 5 AM for, didn't get home until after 6 that night, fell asleep again sometime before 9, and then it was Sunday again. Plus Dan's "sidekick" wasn't riding with him this week so Dan wanted to leave at noon. We really didn't see each other that weekend, and I think that's what made week 3 so hard.

Week 3 was the one where I nearly broke down. Everything seemed twice as hard as it normally did. I felt myself drifting into a fog and I really didn't want to see anyone or do anything. I think if I had been able, I would have stayed at home every day......in bed.....with a big bowl of pudding or something. I would have sunk into a super bad depression and probably spent most every day in tears. Monday and Tuesday drug by.....and Wednesday wasn't so great either. It was one of those weird moments when you do lots of stuff, thinking that you're killing all this time but in reality it only took you ten minutes. I hate that. Where is that super speed when you need it?
When I reached the down hill slope (Wednesday night), I could finally start perking up again. Then, I would start rationalizing; "I've only got two days and two nights left! Well, really, it's only one day because he'll be coming home Friday.....and really it's only one more night because it's already night now........so one day and one night....." This would go on for a while. I'd try to think of how I could arrange my schedule so I could be home when he got there, etc. I'm pretty sure that week 3 was the hardest for both of us.
I would try to remember what it was like when we were dating and would only see each other every one to two months.....and only for a few hours. At times that would help, but otherwise I was pretty much left to my self pity.
That weekend went much better, although I was working again on Saturday, but it wasn't as late and I didn't fall asleep so early.

Now comes the final push. Week 4. I actually thought this would be my toughest week. I pictured myself sitting at home, bawling my eyes out, pining for my husband who couldn't be there. (OK, so I can be dramatic. lol) Truth is, it wasn't like that at all. It was more like the first week. I was home a lot more because dad was spending more time with Russ, but it was still nice. I would pop in a movie, or watch an episode or two of a series I'm currently interested in on Netflix, eat snacks, sit in the recliner........things weren't all bad......but it wasn't all snacks and tv either. I was empty inside.

Finally, we reach the end of our journey. Today is Friday.....at the end of week 4. I feel as though I'm a better person for going through this experience with as little discomfort as possible, and I'm proud of both Dan and myself for handling it as well as we have. But truth be known, I wouldn't trade him for anything, and I'm so very thankful that my "bachelorette" days are over. They really do stink.

Proverbs 31 Woman

PROVERBS 31:10-31

10 Who can find a virtuous woman? for her price is far above rubies.

11 The heart of her husband doth safely trust in her, so that he shall have no need of spoil.

12 She will do him good and not evil all the days of her life.

13 She seeketh wool, and flax, and worketh willingly with her hands.

14 She is like the merchants' ships; she bringeth her food from afar.

15 She riseth also while it is yet night, and giveth meat to her household, and a portion to her maidens. 
16 She considereth a field, and buyeth it: with the fruit of her hands she planteth a vineyard.

17 She girdeth her loins with strength, and strengtheneth her arms.

18 She perceiveth that her merchandise is good: her candle goeth not out by night.

19 She layeth her hands to the spindle, and her hands hold the distaff.

20 She stretcheth out her hand to the poor; yea, she reacheth forth her hands to the needy.

21 She is not afraid of the snow for her household: for all her household are clothed with scarlet.

22 She maketh herself coverings of tapestry; her clothing is silk and purple.

23 Her husband is known in the gates, when he sitteth among the elders of the land.

24 She maketh fine linen, and selleth it; and delivereth girdles unto the merchant.

25 Strength and honour are her clothing; and she shall rejoice in time to come.

26 She openeth her mouth with wisdom; and in her tongue is the law of kindness.

27 She looketh well to the ways of her household, and eateth not the bread of idleness.

28 Her children arise up, and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praiseth her.

29 Many daughters have done virtuously, but thou excellest them all.

30 Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain: but a woman that feareth the LORD, she shall be praised.

31 Give her of the fruit of her hands; and let her own works praise her in the gates.

People can interpret bible verses so many different ways. I know of some that would probably read this and say "Ok, to be a virtuous woman I have to make all my own clothes for me and all my family, spin my own wool, grow a vineyard, never touch any makeup, and be perfectly kind to every single person I meet. I don't necessarily see it that way. Let's talk a little more about this.

 

I was recently reading a post on Facebook, entitled;

"10 things NOT found in Proverbs 31".

I was intrigued, so I read it. It goes like this;
‎

10 THINGS NOT FOUND IN PROVERBS 31

1. Her coffee table never has dust on it.

2. Many have eaten off her kitchen floor.

3. Better Homes and Gardens just did a photo shoot in her living room.

4. She does all of the housework herself while the kids play Wii.

5. All of the words that flow from her children’s mouths are blessed.

6. All of her children are straight A students, musical geniuses, and all-star athletes.

7. Her hair is always fixed perfectly and her make-up is artfully applied.

8. She does not touch make-up or hairspray because it is vain and the art of Satan.

9. She never makes a bad decision.

10. She is classroom mom, PTO President, the bearer of orange slices at soccer games, and the church committee queen.

I can't really say why, for sure, but that really slapped me in the face. Was it because it was wrong? No. It really doesn't say that in Proverbs. I think what really got me was the fact that I was trying to be.......this person. The "NOT found in Proverbs" woman. Let me explain. 

Ever since my mom passed away, I've been wanting to be perfect. OK, not perfect in every way, but a perfect wife. I wanted to get my house in perfect condition, keep everything put away, always have nice meals cooked to perfection, wonderful desserts (home made at least once a week), the yard all landscaped and kept mowed all the time, and basically just everything........perfect. 

I thought if I could do that, I would be someone that mom would have been proud of. I would be the type of woman that she was. 

Now, after re-reading that last sentence, it gives the impression that my mom was perfect......and she was. As my mother, she was perfect. Was the house always clean? No. Were there always 3 home made meals a day? No. Did she always think before she spoke? No. But she was perfect? Yes. 

"11: The heart of her husband doth safely trust in her, so that he shall have no need of spoil."

"12: She will do him good and not evil all the days of her life."

"28 Her children arise up, and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praiseth her."

My dad has said many times that he couldn't have been more blessed to have had my mom because she was a "virtuous woman". I never really thought too much about that when I was younger. Mom was just......mom. She did her best to make sure her family was taken care of. She paid the bills on time, kept the house as best she could (until she was too sick to do it anymore), cooked, took care of all of us, and so much more. But now as I've grown, I say she was wonderful.

"15 She riseth also while it is yet night, and giveth meat to her household, and a portion to her maidens."

"20 She stretcheth out her hand to the poor; yea, she reacheth forth her hands to the needy."

"26 She openeth her mouth with wisdom; and in her tongue is the law of kindness"

OK, so there are lots of ways to interpret these verses, but I can say that mom always took care of her household. She didn't always get up before dawn to make dad breakfast, but he was still taken care of. Maybe mom didn't volunteer at a soup kitchen every weekend, but I can guarantee she never let anyone go hungry in her presence. And her words were always spoken with wisdom, even if it didn't seem kind at the time.

"30 Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain: but a woman that feareth the LORD, she shall be praised."

Verse 30 says it all. "A woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised." This is what mom was all about. She feared God and was a servant to Him all the days of her life. That is what made her a virtuous woman. That is what she wanted from me, and what would make her proud. It doesn't really matter if nothing is perfect, because I can still be a virtuous woman by trying to do my best. By trying to be what God wants me to be and by following Him, fearing Him, and serving Him. 

This doesn't mean that I won't fail. That I won't still try and have things perfect, even though I know that it's next to impossible to do, but now I realize more than ever that the first thing on my list should always be fear God and put Him first. 

Thanks, mom. You have taught me the true meaning of being a true Christian wife and mother. 

I pray that I can be just like you. 

With broken heart.

This blog has been coming for a while.  As in......about 2 1/2 weeks.

I've not been able to bring myself to write it, even though I know it's something that needs to be done.

See, my wonderful mom......the one that I have talked about so much on here......the one that I loved to pieces.....my best friend.....the one that I was so sure was getting better.........she passed away on August 30th. I can't begin to describe how much I miss her.

At a time like this, I've heard it's really easy to get mad at God. I've heard it, but I'm not mad at God. Confused? Yes. Sad? Extremely. Do I feel like I'm in a bad dream? Absolutely. But can I change it? No.
Therefore, I could never be mad at God. He has blessed me beyond compare, and on top of everything, He gave mom to us longer than He could have. If we think about it, He could have taken her way back in 2007 when she lost her arm. We were fortunate enough to have her for 4 1/2 more years.

I don't want to ask why, but I can't seem to stop. We know God sent us the herbal tea she was on, and we truly thought it was working. She had every single sign and signal that the tea was working to break up her cancer. But it didn't. I can't say that it didn't help her at all, because I saw that it did with my own eyes. She was strong right up to the very end. She was alert, her memory was amazing, she had an appetite........just so many things that were a true blessing to her. But it just wasn't enough to completely heal her.......here. I think it did make it easier for her to slip out of this world and go home to Heaven, though. And there, she is completely healed. Whole once again.
I really try not to question, but sometimes I can't help it. I feel like we prayed and prayed and prayed to keep her here, and yet she's gone. There are times that I feel like it's my fault. Like I could have done something more to keep her, or that I didn't take good enough care of her, but then when I think about it, I'm still left at a complete blank, because I don't know what I could have done that would have changed anything. I know dad blames himself, too, and so does Russ. I think it's just normal when you love someone like we loved her.......like we still love her.

I have many, many good and wonderful memories of mommy in my lifetime, but her last days are etched in my memory and I can't seem to stop thinking about them. The look on her face as she was at home and gasping for breath, the way she turned blue before the paramedics got there, the way that I saw the color come back to her face once they put the oxygen on, how limp her body was when they put her on the stretcher, and most of all, the sadness that engulfed me when the doctor at the hospital told us that mom could never breathe on her own again, and the best thing to do would be to let her go in peace. Her lungs were so full of the cancer, she would never be able to get rid of it all. There was nothing that could be done.
We were in the room with her as she took "her last step of faith" as our preacher said at the funeral. We were crying, making sure we all said that we loved her, hugging her, kissing her, and just being there. She would have wanted it that way. I know she heard us, and knew we were there. At that time......she was ready to go.

That's the comfort I get. Knowing that she was ready to meet God. And not only that she was ready, but that she had prepared for that moment over 45 years ago when she was saved. I know that she's in Heaven right now, and that is my comfort. Knowing that I'll see her again one day......that's even more comfort.
In all reality and honesty, I wouldn't bring mom back to this world to be sick like she was for anything. No matter how much I miss her. See, I'm grieving now, but I'm not really grieving for mom. Mom doesn't need me to be sad for her. She's extremely happy! She doesn't even know that I exist. There are all kinds of people that say "Well, she's looking down on you now." But she's not. I accept this fact, because I know how Heaven is. If my mom looked down and saw me sitting here crying the way I do every day, she wouldn't be happy. She'd be so sad, and she would miss me, and she would want to come back and try to comfort me. Then she would cry. And there are no tears in Heaven.

Most days, I'm OK. I go to work and I try to occupy my mind with other things, and most of the time I can get through the day. But then.......it will get to be about 2 in the afternoon, and I'll think "I think I'll text mom and see what she's up to." And then I just stop. I just stop whatever I'm doing and realize that she's not there. Then I have to try and talk myself out of thinking the whole thing has been some awful dream. It's all I can do to keep from slapping myself to try and wake up.
I would give anything to talk to her again. Just to ask her things. Maybe silly things......or recipes that she's told me a hundred times that I never bothered to remember, just because I always thought I'd be able to ask again. Now I can't.

I have wonderful support. First of all, God is there and I pray all the time for help. I know He comforts me and will continue to do so. And Dan is the best husband I could ever ask for. He's been there with me through everything and I couldn't ask for him to do more. Dad and Russ are great as far as being there for me, and I try to be there for them too. It seems we all have bad days at different times. Another blessing from God. If we were all down at the same time, it would be completely miserable. But this way, we're able to remind each other that mom is so much better now, and that we shouldn't begrudge her that just because we're selfish.

Dad started back to work this week, and I began my new day to day. Before, when mom was well, I was always at her house by 8, and that was our time to visit before work. Now, 8 rolls around and I feel as though I need to be doing something.......but there's nothing. So, I'm throwing myself into my housework, sorting through things that we never use to send to auction, doing some baking, and just trying to establish a new normal. It won't be easy, by any means, but I have no other choice.

I have a strong feeling that I will never get over wanting to talk to her, or see her, or spend time with her, even though she's gone. I'll never stop having that feeling of needing to call her in the middle of the afternoon just to see how she's doing. I'll never get over the feeling of an empty space at church on Sunday or the lunch thereafter. I'll never stop thinking about asking her to ride along with me every time I go somewhere. And every time I go to cook something, I'll second guess myself and turn to ask her if I'm doing it right.
That's what a big influence she was in my life. And I never want her to leave me completely. I'm thankful and blessed to have had her for the 25 years that I have, and she will forever live on in my heart.

I love you mommy. See you soon. 

Learning to wait.

Lamentations 3:22-25
It is of the Lord's mercies that we are not consumed, because His compassions fail not.They are new every morning: great is thy faithfulness.The Lord is my portion, saith my soul; therefore will I hope in Him.
The Lord is good unto them that wait for Him, to the soul that seeketh Him.



Isaiah 30:18
And therefore will the LORD wait, that He may be gracious unto you, and therefore will He be exalted, that He may have mercy upon you: for the LORD is a God of judgment: blessed are all they that wait for Him.



Isaiah 40:31
But they that wait upon the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.


Psalm 37:9
For evildoers shall be cut off: but those that wait upon the LORD, they shall inherit the earth.




I really like those verses. Mainly because we've spent so much time lately waiting on the Lord.
Mom's pneumonia is slowly but surely getting better. We knew it would, but we had no idea it would take as long as it has. In reality, she's only been on her antibiotics for two weeks, and the doctor says it could take a month to 6 weeks before she's back up to par, and even then she could still be weak and winded. The Lord has been with her, and will continue to be with her through the recovery process. I sometimes wonder why she had to get this illness right after the things she's been through with her brain surgery and all........but I try not to question. It's for a reason, and one day maybe we'll know. Until then, I have to learn to "wait". After all, His ways are above my ways, and His time is not my time. So, what can you do? PBW. Pray, Believe, and Wait. As I've said before, we're not people who believe that you just pray once and then you're done. 1st Thessalonians 5:17 says "Pray without ceasing", and there are many days that I am in, what seems to be, constant prayer. It's not out loud, but I pray from my heart. My true desires are there, and God hears me. 

• "Please, Lord, just make mom better." 
• "Please, Lord, help Dan and Dad at their jobs today."
• "Please, Lord, send some business our way if we're meant to keep this store."
• "Please, Lord, help Skyla at her interview today."
• "Please, Lord, get rid of Russ's headache because he has tons of stuff to get done."

Maybe some of you think praying for headache relief is silly. I don't. A hundred thoughts like that per day run through my mind. I'm sincere. I just want what's best for my family. They mean everything to me and I just want them to be happy and healthy. The praying is the easy part. The believing is harder, but all it takes is the tiniest bit of faith and it grows and grows. The waiting is the hardest part of the process.......but I must admit that my impatience is an inherited trait. 
Dad gets extremely nervous while waiting. When I talked to him last night, he admitted this fact, and said that sometimes he couldn't understand why Jesus made us wait. Back in Bible times, almost everything was immediate. He said "God never changes, so sometimes I wonder why miracles aren't still immediate?" I responded with "I know some of them still are, but Dad, Jesus also let some people die just so he could show his power and raise them from the dead.........we really don't want that happening now, do we?"
He agreed with me, said that however the Lord wanted to handle things now was just fine with him, and we changed the subject.
Mom is patient........most of the time. Though this pneumonia has really drug a lot of her "good nature and temperament" to the point of screaming on most days. I think sometimes if she would actually scream, it would help her to recover faster. I know what it's like to be sick, but I don't know what it's like to have something that makes it; impossible to go outside because you can't breathe, a two person job to get you to the bathroom, and you so tired that you want to sleep but can't because you have insomnia. I guess it's just miserable, and I can't blame her for complaining.
Russ, on the other hand is probably the worst of us when it comes to the patience department, especially when he's worried. I can understand that as well, because he feels as though if someone's sick, they need care as soon as possible, and there's not a moment to waste. Sometimes that just can't happen, and he doesn't understand why. He couldn't understand why mom wasn't better after 2 days of antibiotics. After 2 weeks, you can imagine what he's thinking. At least the past couple days mom has shown improvement. I would have Russ AND dad jumping down my throat if she didn't feel better. 
And what could I do? I could take after my husband and lecture them. That's about it. Being married to Dan for 4 years has taught me a thing or two about psychology, human thought processes through asking simple questions, and the art of a good lecture. 
My parents tell a story about me a lot. It's the story of when I was born. Mom and Dad were married not quite 2 years when Russ was born. When he was about 2-3 years old, they wanted to have another baby, so their kids would be close in and grow up together. But they couldn't get pregnant. It went on for years and they were beginning to face the fact that it wasn't meant for them to have another child. Mom had always wanted a daughter so she prayed, and prayed, and prayed. Nothing happened. Their only son was about 16 years old and mom had some female issues that worried her so she went to see her gynecologist. Her cycle had been terrible and hadn't stopped, and after an exam, the doctor told her the news. She'd had a miscarriage. It was heartbreaking for her. I don't know what she went through that day, but I know it had to be hard. Not long after that when Russ was about 17, mom's cycle stopped altogether. She was scared because of the previous miscarriage, and perhaps there was something wrong with her. She suspected everything except what was actually wrong with her; Me. 
They couldn't believe it. Their son was graduating high school and mom was expecting me. Mom never wanted to find out from the doctor what she was having. She knew that her prayer had been answered and she would have a girl. And obviously she was right. If you can't already tell, the reason for this story is I think that was a huge lesson to them about patience and waiting on the Lord. 
Something that is so hard to realize about waiting, is the fact that we can't see the future. I mean, if I had been born back when mom and dad first wanted me, there's no telling where I would have been when mom lost her arm. Or when the brain tumor hit? It's amazing to think about. I'm not bragging on myself by any means, but I am glad that I'm here close to help when they let me. I like my little comfy house, I love my husband, and I am incredibly blessed.
I think about that sometimes when I'm having trouble waiting. I can't change the past, I don't know the future. All I have is the present. And I'm not guaranteed that. So, we trust in the Lord.....and we wait.

Rants, Ramblings, and a Recipe!

I don't have much on the schedule for a blog post this week. So something with the 3 R's is always good.

I was originally just going to post a rant on how I currently feel about doctors.......but I don't want to just dwell on the negative right now, because that's way too easy to do. You see, right now, mom has pneumonia. Not good. The worst part was how she was diagnosed. She'd been not feeling well since Memorial Day, and when we took her to her normal doctor, they said she had bronchitis, gave her some sulfur drugs, a shot, and sent her home. She had a terrible cough, and, pardon me for being graphic, had coughed up a bunch of icky yellow/green mucus, and once or twice it had been laced with blood. Now, we explained all that to the doctor, and she still said bronchitis. She said she couldn't hear pneumonia in her lungs and mom didn't want an X-Ray. After 10 days of the sulfur drug, mom was still sick, but she said it wasn't near as bad. The cough, however had not let up. After about 3 days of being off the sulfur drug, she was worse. So we tried a different doctor at what they call "Urgent Care". It was the only place open besides the hospital on a Friday night after 5PM.
I don't know God's plan, but I know everything has a reason. There is a reason mom got sick, and there is a reason that this particular doctor saw mom on the night in question. But I doubt I will ever know the reason.
I hadn't gone with mom and dad that night, because they said there was no need. Mom had been told by countless people that she had  pneumonia, and after doing some research with my good friend Google, I had come up with the same conclusion. We were in hopes that another doctor would give her some medicine that  would actually clear it up, instead of just holding it back for a while. After the doctor saw mom, she said an X-Ray was necessary, and BEFORE she even found out the results, she came in and proceeded to tell my mom that she didn't have a virus, or pneumonia, or anything else.......her lungs were completely covered in cancer.
As I have said in my past posts, we are aware of some small tumors in mom's lungs, and she has an appointment in August to have them looked at, but this? No one was expecting. You can imagine the pain and shock that mom and dad were feeling at that time, and after hearing this story, I was upset that I had not been there with them. Anyway, this doctor was completely rude, and after she found out the results were indeed pneumonia, she didn't even offer as much as an "I'm sorry for putting you through this". Some doctors can be such scum. Thankfully we do have mom on 2 strong antibiotics now, and she has finally (after a week) started showing some improvement. Thank you, Lord! The final straw that made me not like this woman in the least happened the following Monday when mom went back for a follow up. Apparently this was not necessary (even though the doctor said it was), and the doctor was mad mom was there. When she got done examining mom, she said "Well, I'm still not convinced it's pneumonia". Boy, did my mom tell her the what for! Go mom! All I have to say is, what kind of a doctor does that? Not a very good one.

Thus ends the rant section of this post.

As for the rambling, I'm good at that. Just ask my husband. One of the big differences between us is the way we describe our day;

Me: "So, how was your day?"
Dan: "Eh. There were some good points, but it was still a rough one." 
Me: *waiting* *waiting some more* "Ummm.......OK, would you like to elaborate on that a bit?"
Dan: "Not really." 

End of discussion.
Reverse roles.

Dan: "So, how was your day?"
Me: "Oh, you know. About the same. I went over by to check on mom and when she fell asleep, I ended up falling asleep and I was afraid I'd get to the store late. I did get to the store late, but not because of that, it was because I had to follow some guy that apparently doesn't know how to drive because he was weaving all over the road and wouldn't go faster that 40 miles per hour, and after I got to the store Russ had to leave and help Skyla with some real estate stuff so I was there by myself and this nut-job comes in and decides to tell me his life story! I just kept standing there saying "uh huh, uh huh" but he didn't get the point."
Dan: "Uh huh." (Yes I'm aware of the irony)
Me: "So after an hour......an HOUR.....that guy finally walks out and I was ready to strangle Russ by the time that he got back. Then I had to make the virtual tour for the property that Skyla just listed and my computer kept freezing up.......I really need to clean that thing......and when I finally got it done I was 15 minutes late for my student, which of course threw me behind on all the rest of them. And then I get to hear the famous whine of "Why do I have to do it that way?" and "My fingers hurt". Sometimes I wonder why I even bother. I'm just glad to be home."
Dan: *nodding* "All right then." 

There are several hundred variations on that conversation, but it's pretty much that same conversation every day. Sometimes I don't know how he puts up with me. But he does, and I am grateful.

Alright, I guess that's enough rambling, so on to the recipe!

I've wanted to post this bread recipe for quite a while now, because I am a flop when it comes to home made bread. Seriously! But this bread worked for even me, so I know someone with bread making skills could do wonders with it. My dad makes the best bread in the entire world, no joke. He makes it out of a start that he got from another man about 4 years ago, who got his start from a man a year or so before that. So we just call it "man bread". Dad will not give the recipe or the starter to a woman because he wants to carry on the tradition. Oh well. This way I just get to eat it and don't have to bake it. lol OK, rambling again. Sorry.

The ingredients are as follows:

 2 cups warm water
3 tablespoons sugar 
2 heaping tablespoon or packet of yeast.
2 tablespoons butter
5 cups Bread Flour
2 tablespoons of salt 

Mix warm water and sugar in a largish mixing bowl. Sprinkle yeast over the top and let sit for about 5 minutes.
 Add the butter, 4 cups of flour, and the salt. Stir this together until it begins to hold together. Pour a cup of flour onto the surface you intend to use for kneading. 

Knead until it holds its own shape well, 3 or 4 minutes. Let the dough rest while you grease a bowl for rising. Return to your dough and knead a further 3 or 4 minutes until it's smooth

Roll the dough into a ball and place in the greased bowl.

 Put the bowl someplace warm and cozy. I like to put mine on the floor in front of my patio door, especially if I'm making it int the afternoon/early evening. This makes for a pleasant environment for the bread, because it's so nice and sunny. It recipe says to leave until it's doubled in size, but I let it rise for an hour.

After an hour dump the dough out on a floured surface and punch it down. Knead the bubbles out and form into two loaves. Place the loaves into lightly greased bread pans. Return to the floor.
 

Let them "rise" for another hour.

With the loaves sitting in the oven, turn it on to 350 degrees and leave them in for 45 minutes.

  Since your oven is probably different than mine, you should knock on the tops with your knuckles to check for a hollow sounds. That means they're done!

I always coat the tops of my bread with butter and cover with waxed paper and a towel. This way it softens up the crust. 

What I like about this bread is not only the taste, but how easy it is to make. Plus it is still fresh the next day, unlike a lot of home made bread. 

I hope you enjoy it, and feel free to post a comment about how your bread turns out if you decide to try it!