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. 

A "Brobee" for Madysen

I'm going to start this blog post by answering the question that is (most likely) first and foremost on your mind;

                   

This is a Brobee. 

Don't feel bad if you didn't know what it was. I didn't really know either until about the first part of November. This little guy is a character on my niece Madysen's favorite show, "Yo Gabba Gabba". If you, your children or grandchildren have never watched it, take my advice; Don't. 

It's a pretty silly show, with lots of funny little monsters who run around and sing. Now, granted, they do teach them things about manners, etc, but the way they go about it is nuts. 

Anyway, Brobee is Mady's favorite, so as her 3rd birthday grew closer, November 29th, Brittany came to me asking if I could make a Brobee cake for her party. I'd been taking a cake decorating class for the month of November, and I was kind of anxious to do something on my own, but I wasn't sure if I was up to this kind of challenge. 

Brittany and I sat down and Googled "Brobee birthday cake" and guess what. Apparently this is one popular little monster. Tons and tons of cakes were out there, so after looking through about 100 pictures, we picked out some of our favorites and started brainstorming. Brittany decided on the basic design, then I added a few  special touches of my own. Once the draft design was drawn, I studied it for a couple days and then got to work. I decided to bake it at the music store because it was that much closer to Brittany's house. hahaha

My first thought was to make the cake itself green. Then, when we sliced into it, he would have the Brobee stripes. So we did that. This is the batter before it was baked........

.....and after. 

Awesome right? Now, I have to apologize for the lack of pictures as I describe this next section. It took me a long time to decorate this little guy, and once I got on a roll, I didn't take time out for pictures. 

As for the main design of the cake, I have to give all the credit to Brittany. She told me exactly what she wanted. It was then my job to figure out how to make that happen for her. She wanted Brobee's face to be a lighter shade of green than his body. Check. That's not much of a problem. Just a little extra food coloring.

As for the Brobee "horns", I thought if I made some flat sugar cookies, I could just ice them with red icing. The trouble was going to be getting them to stand up on his "head". Coffee stirrers to the rescue! I baked the cookies with the stirrers already inside, then I used more to prop them up on his head. 

Brittany also wanted a flat cookie laying next to the cake, similar to the shape of the Yo Gabba Gabba sign.

However, instead of saying "Yo Gabba Gabba!", she wanted it to have a big M on it. So, more cookies to shape and bake, but at least this time I didn't need to stick wooden coffee stirrers in them. hahaha 

When all was said and done, I was SO happy about how everything turned out. 

I think the birthday girl even liked her cake. 

And.......I was right. It looked pretty awesome when it was cut.  

 So, all in all, I have to say that my first solo cake turned out pretty good. It even tasted good. Which goes a long way on a cake resume. Happy birthday, Mady. Ninny is happy you got your Brobee. 

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.