Almighty God

The rising Sun that fills the sky

The starry host that lights the night

Reflecting Your glory

The mountain heights, forever stand

The rain that falls to soak the land

Respond to Your glory

Almighty God, in every way

You are above and beyond understanding

If we did not praise, the rocks would cry out

Glorious God, high above understanding

The vast expanse of earth and sea

Held by You in harmony

Speaks of Your glory

All You've made, since time began

Life itself; Your perfect plan

And it's all for Your glory

Almighty God, in every way

You are above and beyond understanding

If we did not praise, the rocks would cry out

Glorious God, high above understanding

Creation joins as one to sing

“What A Glorious God.”

So far above all earthly things

Almighty God, in every way

You are above and beyond understanding

If we did not praise, the rocks would cry out

Glorious God, high above understanding

Almighty God, in every way

You are above and beyond understanding

If we did not praise, the rocks would cry out

Glorious God, high above understanding

That was our offering song this morning. We have a hearing this week. It's scheduled for Thursday and we should get our trial dates at that point. I'm a little anxious to find out when the trial will be. Will we wait until April or, perhaps, later? Will they spring it on us quickly and we'll go to trial this summer? Where will Matthew end up? These are the things I worry wonder about. But, wherever he grows up, he will be in the protective arms of an Almighty God who loves him. A God who is always worthy of worship.

Papa v. Barney

Yesterday, after The Rock Star got up from his nap, we were watching The Brady Bunch. When it was over, a little commercial came on promoting The Andy Griffith Show. The short tag showed Barney Fife saying, in his classic voice, "You just gotta nip. You gotta nip. You gotta nip it in the bud. IN THE BUD!" When it was over, Garrett turned to me and squealed.

G: That looks like my PAPA!
Me: (dissolving into a fit of laughter and heading straight for the phone) It does?
G: Yeah!

When I relayed the story to my mom she asked me to ask him what about him looked like Papa. (For the record, my dad does NOT look like Barney Fife.)

Me: What about him looks like Papa?
G: His tar.
Me: His car?
G: No. His tar.
Me: (blank look)
G: On his shirt. Twinkle. Twinkle. (Pause) The tar!
Me: Oh! His star!
G: Yeah!
Me: (To my mom) His badge.

Yeah, well, my dad and old Barney have one thing in common. They are officer's of the law. Later, my dad called to ask me a question and when I answered the phone he replied, "Barney Fife here."

World's Most Perfect Baby Carrier

On Sunday night we had an event at church. My friend, Christy, approached me with a bag. Her sister (who happens to be the mother of The Future Mrs. The Rock Star, who also happens to be the wonderful woman who threw the Fundraiser Party for us) had found formula for half off and had picked some up for us. I was expecting the formula but I was not expecting the mosquito netting that I found saddled up beside Matthew's next meal.

Truly, when I first saw the item I thought it was some sort of bug keeperoutter thing. It sort of resembled a much smaller version of this:

I took it out. Contemplated it for several moments and headed straight back to Christy. I held it out as if to say, "What on earth is your sister giving me mosquito netting for?" Before I could ask what, pray tell, it was, Christy informed me that it was the most magical piece of baby equipment ever made a sling.

Now, I swore by my Infantino SlingRider Baby Carrier when Garrett was a baby. I swore by it because the second my tiny tot was placed into it, he fell into a quick and sudden slumber. It was almost as though he was Sleeping Beauty and he'd just pricked his finger or Snow White and he'd just taken a bite of the poisoned apple. It was that fast. However, when I wore it, my neck and shoulder just swore. They let out a string of profanity. No matter what I did, I couldn't get them to stop cussing. Troy didn't have a problem with it hurting his shoulder and, well, I didn't care. I was willing to sacrifice my body for a napping infant. We used it. We loved it. It got us through many months of Garrett's babyhood. I never used the SlingRider much with Matthew. He liked it fine but he was so much fatter than Garrett that my shoulder couldn't handle it. Plus, Spud's always been a good napper so I didn't need to use the sling to induce instantaneous sleep.

I also used a front pack with Garrett. I've used it a few times with Matthew but it also puts pressure in weird places on my neck and shoulders. It's also slightly difficult for me to get into and by the time I manage to add the baby into the mix, he's usually shrieking. I love it if there is someone there to help me get Matthew into it but if I'm alone, it's not much fun.

Well, when Christy told me what it was and then she and another friend of mine, Michelle, who has a baby herself, began showing me how to use it, I started getting excited. There are several ways to carry the baby in the sling (you can watch some of them here) but Matthew's favorite is this way:

My hands are totally free and there is absolutely no pressure on my shoulder. The first night I had it, Matthew chilled like that for over an hour and then promptly conked out. According to Missy (the maker) "the material is solarveil which blocks 80% of the UV rays so if you have them in the stroller you can drape the wrap over the umbrella for a little added, ventilated protection. You can also machine wash it and hang it to dry. It drys in like 10-15 minutes. Make sure that you don't wash it with anything that has Velcro on it...it will adhere to the sling and weaken the material." So, since it blocks 80% of UV rays, I like to take him out in it and do this with the extra material: Another position that we've tried is with Spud sitting on my hip. I'm still hands free and he's still totally comfortable. I mean, he didn't say that in so many words but I figure if we can walk around for awhile and he never makes an unhappy peep, he's probably enjoying himself.

You can, of course, use it in the traditional way if you have a newborn. My son will not sit still long enough to let me take a picture of him in that position. He might miss something. He'd much prefer to see what's going on around him.

But, the best part is still coming. The other day, I wore it in the pool. I take The Rock Star and The Spud to the pool a lot these days and it's a challenge to hold them both at the same time. I can do it, mind you, but it's not as fun as, say, eating funnel cake. (Yum. I love me some funnel cake). Troy was with us during this particular pool excursion but I wore it anyway because Missy said I could. Matthew loved it and, after awhile, here's what happened:

Matthew does not cry in this thing. He loves it. I love it. I love how it doesn't hurt my shoulder. I love how it's easy to get on and easy to get Matthew inside. I love that I can use the excess fabric as a spit cloth. I love that it folds up super small and fits in my diaper bag without having to take everything else out. I love how good Matthew looks in blue--but that's not really important. I love that, what with the baby inside and all, I feel, somehow, as though I'm from Africa. Not that he's from Africa anymore than I'm from Germany but...nevermind...tangent.

So...because I love (did I mention LOVE?) this sling/wrap/most wonderful invention in all the world, I told Missy that I would blog about it. She sells them for $40.00 and that includes the shipping. I don't know for sure but I assume that she can do them in several shades. Michelle has a pink one so I'm certain that they, at the very least, come in blue and pink. Additionally, the fabric is super strong and Missy still uses it to carry around her daughter, who will be two in the fall. If you know anyone who wants to own the most perfect (did I mention that I LOVE this thing?), least painful, versatile baby carrier, you can email her at missymaydunn@gmail.com.

I really, truly, quite seriously, not even kidding, totally recommend buying one from her.

Prayer Request

Several days ago we received another bill in the mail. June's fees totaled $2,382.97 but this time I didn't burst into a fountain of tears. I didn't contemplate bank robbery. I felt, somehow, nothing. I threw my hands up in the air, looked up to heaven, and said, "Whatever. You're in control. You know what you're doing."

He is in control. He knows what He is doing. But I just paid the bills this month and, when I went to pay the attorney, I discovered what I thought to be true. The loan, once we pay everyone in full, will be exhausted. I emailed his secretary and asked if we might be able to set up a payment plan. My heart feels heavy with the weight of this situation. It cries out for Matthew's well-being. My mind and my humanness wonder what will happen in the end. What I suspect is that I will be stronger for having endured this trial. What I know is that I will have been drawn deeper into the presence of the Almighty. What I need are your prayers.

I am asking the Lord to work a miracle. I am asking for financial relief and I am asking for an end to this battle. Yes, I am asking for a favorable ending for our family but, above that, I am praying for what's best for Matthew. I've been praying that prayer for over four months and it's still the first request off of my lips. He is my son. I will always want what is best for him. Please join with me in praying that the Lord will see fit to work in a mighty way. We have heard stories of people we've never met who are lifting our family up in prayer. Whether we have a personal relationship with you or you've found our story here on this blog, we are thankful for you. The Lord has used you to minister to us through prayer and we beg you to continue praying. Thank you. I know we could not be doing this without you.

*************************************************
If anyone has a question about Matthew, this process, our faith, or anything we've learned through this ordeal, please don't hesitate to ask. Feel free to leave a question in the comment section or send me an email. I'd love to answer any question that might help direct your prayers.

Cast of Characters

It rained on us while we were in Oregon. As we approached the Idaho border it sprinkled on our car for about ten minutes. That was the extent of the moisture I saw while we were there. This leads me to the only logical conclusion I can come up with. Oregon was abducted by aliens.

I didn't complain about the weather even once the entire time we were there. Oh. No. Wait. I did complain once--kind of. I don't actually remember being a brat about it or anything but this was the windiest day at the beach ever! We were supposed to take The Rock Star swimming and he really wanted to build a sand castle. So. After we hiked up a big sand dune, dipped toes in the water, and tried our best to keep the crazy blowing sand out of Spud's eyes, I hiked back over the sand dune while Troy and Garrett speedily threw together a sand castle.

This has become my new favorite picture of the Spudster. Is it just me or does that smile scream, "Happy! Healthy! Well-adjusted!"? I also think that, behind the grin, he's saying, "Hey, attorneys, please stop sending my parents monthly bills exceeding $2,000! It'll be another 22 years before I'm a running back for the San Diego Chargers. They're broke, y'all. It's not funny anymore!" I like it that Matthew thinks certain phrases like, y'all, even though he was born in southern California, yo.

I'd like to introduce you to the characters we spent the week with.

Below we have Matthew and his Aunt Jana. Aunt Jana is Troy's baby sister. Aunt Jana is 2.5 years older than me. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, Troy took "robbing the cradle" to a whole new level when he married me. Aunt Jana wanted to kidnap The Spud. I can't say that I blame her.

Below is Matthew and Aunt Jolene. We are kindred spirits in that we are both raising two boys. There are no lacy frills in our world. There are no tea parties. No Barbie dolls. Just dirt. Dirt and little boys who drop trou outside and take great delight in watering the bushes.

My boys and their "Uncle" Ed. Uncle Ed is a family friend and great guy. He preached on Sunday morning at my FIL's church. He knows the details of our court battle and he really wants Matthew to remain in our custody forever. It's nice to have an African-American lawyer from the Chicago inner city on the side of the pasty white folk.

The Rockstar and his cousins (Jana's kids), "Gaycie" and "Tolby". Yeah. Not their real names--just the way my son happens to say them. Gaycie A.D.O.R.E.D. Matthew. She was, seriously, obsessed with him. It was much like the way I was obsessed with her during Troy and my first year of marriage. She was less than a month old when we got married. The only difference is the fact that she's almost six. So, like, it's okay for her to follow me everywhere with the baby. Jana might have thought it was weird when her 22-year-old brand new sister in law was stalking her infant.

Papa Gary and four of his ten grandchildren. Plus his daughter. He really likes being covered in grandchildren. For real. If he had his way all of his children would have like eight kids of their own. My guess is that he'll probably have to settle for ten. Total.

"Damma DeDe", her son, and his boys. Damma DeDe likes being covered in grandkids, too. She also likes to give Matthew his bottles. And hold him. And burp him. And cuddle him. And bounce him.

Garrett and his other Oregon cousins, "Tooper" and "Hoyer". (Jolene's kids). Garrett and Hoyer played really well together--they're only four months apart. We took a different picture of them and told them all to look grumpy. It was hilarious. We never could get all of them looking grumpy at the same time. One of them would always dissolve into giggles.

The End.

Oh I Wish I Had A River...

As we drove through The Gorge, Troy informed me that the reason he has a hard time acknowledging certain bodies of water as rivers when they clearly look like creeks or streams is because his reference point for what a river should look like is the vast Columbia.

The next day Troy slept as I drove from southern Idaho to Salt Lake. As the car approached a sign I thoroughly contemplated waking him. The sign read, "Raft River". We crossed over a teensy weensy little brook. It looked to be about a foot deep and approximately three feet wide. I'm certainly that rafting would have been impossible. Even for, say, a four month old in a blow up rubber ducky.

I, therefore, feel that this stream has been improperly named. Is it, maybe, larger in April? Does it widen and produce huge rapids elsewhere in its windy course? If not, I refuse to refer to it as "Raft River" and am unofficially changing its name to "Itsy Bitsy Brook".

Enchanted Forest

While we were in Oregon, we took the boys to The Enchanted Forest. All the other times I've been to Oregon with Troy, I've wondered about such enchantment. Now that I've been there I am certainly glad that we did not visit it on our honeymoon or any of the other times that I didn't have children. I'm thankful that my husband knew what he was talking about when he told me it was for kids.

The Rock Star loved it! Spud mostly sat in the stroller and gazed at all the foliage overhead as his older brother darted from witch's head to rabbit hole to caves to slides and back again.

We each took Garrett on the Ice Mountain Bobsleds. Think "Honey, I Shrunk the Matterhorn." It was hilarious! The Rock Star laughed hysterically the entire time. We also let him drive a bumper boat and witnessed, first hand, the fact that he possesses my "focus face" when he's taking something very seriously.

Um. This picture is wrong on so many levels. Apparently, White Boy is fighting for the Confederate Army. When we went to take this picture, Troy told me that they'd both be Union soldiers. But then Abe was all, "Here are your uniforms." And, well, you just don't argue with the President. At least Matthew's father was fighting for the abolition of slavery. I don't know that boy in the background. Apparently he thought it'd be awesome to be a part of this family. I can't say that I blame him. We're a happening bunch. We pose for photographs even when there is clearly some dirty laundry being aired. Even when, you know, one son wants to enslave the other.

Pretty soon after this shot was taken, Garrett fell and skinned his elbow. I said that it was fine and that we could handle it but Honest Abe insisted on calling a medic. I was horrified as we stood waiting for Medical to show up. Thankfully, when The Enchanted Forest says medic they mean employee on a golf cart with a Band-Aid. We bandaged up the flesh wound and let Garrett have a popsicle.

I wish the fun had stopped with a bleeding elbow but nooo. As the afternoon continued I approached a booth to return an unused ticket. Troy sat on a bench and started making a bottle. I felt Garrett at my side and put my hand on his head. As I tousled his hair he ducked out from under me. Engaged in conversation with the ticket lady, I assumed he'd run down to where Troy was sitting, about twenty yards away. When I got my change back I turned and looked down at my husband. Not spotting anyone nearby with rock star qualities I yelled to him.

Me: Do you have Garrett?
T: No. You do.
Me: No, I don't.
T: You did.
Me: (quickly scanning the area) Well, clearly he's not with me now.

What started as me thinking he was somewhere right by and just, well, shorter than the crowd, turned into me realizing that he was no where in sight. I was standing at a spot where four pathways come together. I dashed up one of them, toward the Funny Fake Matterhorn, and then ran back down to where Troy was. He handed Matthew to me and took off down another path while I waited in the middle. Eventually, a woman walked up to me and asked if she could help me. "I can't find my son," I replied. She answered that she could tell by the look on my face. Within a matter of moments, several people were looking for my son. I described him as being, "About 37 inches tall with really short dark blond hair wearing a green Wall-E shirt and brown shorts." As five minutes turned to six and then seven (maybe...I wasn't actually looking at a clock as I contemplated my missing not quite three-year-old) I began to really worry. I figured he'd wandered off to play with something and didn't realize he was even lost. That's what I figured...but the paranoid mom in me was screaming, "What if someone took him and is headed out of the park right this minute!" So I told Troy to tell the ticket lady to tell someone to seal off the exits--at least for any little boy matching Garrett description. He informed her that our son was missing and she called out on her radio. Someone responded that a little boy who matched Garrett's description was sliding down her slide just then. Her slide: the one he hadn't been on because the sign said 3 and up. Just as she radioed that she had him, one of the women who had joined the search party spotted him. Before I knew it she was walking around the corner holding his hand.

As I was writing this, he saw the pictures and said, "Enchanted Forest. I got lost there. It was very naughty."

Yes, he was instructed that we do not wander away from our mommies. Ever. We stayed glued to her hip until we are at least 23 years old. Period.

Other than the skinned elbow and the whole missing person situation, we had a great time. We spent 32 dollars that day. I think, other than gas, that was close to the sum total of our trip. My in laws fed us. Our friends and family housed us. We did pay for a couple of meals on the road but all in all it was a very inexpensive vacation.

Journey Back

When we drove out to Eugene, Oregon, we went through Bend and, as previously stated, the drive was hellacious. We decided to drive home through northern Oregon. I'm quite happy to report that it took just as long but (and that's a really big BUT--I'm telling you) we took longer stops yesterday to try and keep the natives from getting restless. And by the natives I mean mama. Mama can only take so much incessant chatter. Mama can only handle the contents of the toy box being dumped on the floor fifteen times. On the sixteenth time, she starts to lose it. Mama doesn't like it when the baby is fed and changed and decides to scream for no apparent reason at all. Mama knows that something has snapped when she starts referring to herself in the third person. Mama has clocked an enormous amount of hours on road trips in her twentysomething years but has never found herself wanting to claw at the windows quite as much as she did on this particular trek. Although, to be fair, the return trip was much better than the journey west.

We left Eugene on Thursday afternoon and drove up to Portland. The Rock Star got to see his cousins, Tooper* and Hoyer*, for a couple of hours and then we met one of my friends for dinner. Ashby and I were in theatre together in college and her parents, who I had only met once before, generously opened their guest room to my family. After Troy got the boys to sleep, we started watching SNL:The Best of Amy Poehler and ohmygoodness almost died laughing at Amy being Christopher Walken. Seriously. The funny part is Amy. Before her and after her are only moderately humorous. We had to watch her lines like 85,000 times and I haven't laughed that hard in a really long time. It was the kind of laugh that sort of almost hurts. My ribs felt like they were going to start breaking off one by one and my face was sore with hysterical smiling. It's good to laugh like that once in a while. If you watch it and can't, for the life of you, figure out what is so funny about it, wait until after midnight and add Ashby and a bottle of peach Schnapps. We didn't have any Schnapps. We didn't need it. We are theatre people, remember. I'm just saying, if you don't find it funny...maybe Schnapps would help. If you still can't find the humor, well, I just...I guess I can't help you. You might be drunk though so I will come hold your hair while I mumble something about how, "this is what happens when you drink."

We left yesterday morning, after I pried my second born out of Ashby's vice grip. We drove from Portland to Boise and then stayed at the same place we stayed on the way to Oregon. Our friends were out of town but they gave us a key and let us crash at their house. We are grateful for this as it had a direct correlation to mama not losing her marbles. The drive through the Columbia River Gorge was much better than the drive through Old McDonald's Farm Land followed by Buck Cunningham's Onion Patch followed by Crazy Uncle Joe's Cattle Farm followed by Burns, Oregon followed by Mr. Crabtree's Carrot Field followed by Praise the Lord We Made It To Bend followed by a screaming banshee possessing the vocal chords of our baby for two whole hours. So even though the trip back was better, we were thankful to not have to drive 14 hours in one day with two children who have, as the sum total of their ages, 40 months of life experience.

This morning we got up and headed out just before seven. We made it home just after noon and did absolutely nothing for our 4th of July except prance around in the glorious knowledge that our butts were no longer affixed to the seat of a car. Truthfully, the boys did really well. Considering the fact that they were in car seats for over 32 hours for this trip, mama is proud.

Five minutes from the house The Rock Star exclaimed, "I want to drive back to my cousins!" Mama simply turned her head in his direction and shot him "the look".

P.S. I'm mama.


*names have been changed because, well, that's how Garrett says them.

Letter To A Four Month Old

Dear Matthew,

Three days ago you somehow managed to tumble, headfirst, into your fifth month of life. You were officially four months old on Sunday and I don't know how we've gotten to this, my favorite month in the life of a baby, so quickly. I adore four month olds. It has something to do with still being immobile but also being so alert and interactive. As far as these things are concerned, you haven't disappointed me. I'm not sure I've ever heard a more vocal baby. I kid you not, you don't shut up. You're either squealing, giggling, or babbling as you smile at anyone who will look at you, or you're crying because someone stopped talking to you for thirty seconds.

You are very seriously considering rolling from your back to your tummy. Matthew, all you have to do is throw your leg over and you'd be an official roller. At times, you are completely on your side with your arm totally out of the way but your legs are all, "Nah. Not today." It's alright. I'm in no hurry. I'm trying to savor each and every moment of your babyness while I simultaneously wish you into adolescence so you can just tell the court that you want to stay with us.

This month, you proved to everyone that you're my son by catching your first stomach flu--or something quite similar to the stomach flu. After two trips to the pediatrician in three days because of projectile vomiting, we're still not entirely sure what you had but we know it involved shooting barf three feet across the room. I was truly worried about the fact that my three month old was capable of such a feat. Garrett, on the other hand, cared mostly about the fact that you were throwing up on his floor and that it was, indeed, hitting his bookshelf which was several feet away. But don't think, even for one second, that he doesn't adore the ground you lay on. This month he has taken to saying, at least once a day, "I want Matthew to stay here forever and ever and ever." Every morning, when I am feeding you, he climbs up and says, "Good morning, Little Bud!" This is followed by rubbing your head and kissing some part of your body, usually your arm. Matthew, he is completely smitten with you.

You've driven from San Diego to Salt Lake City and now you've also driven from Salt Lake to Eugene, Oregon. We took you to the northwest to meet your Grandpa Gary, your aunts, and cousins. It took sixteen long hours to get there and we discovered that you're a great traveler for fourteen hours. You are not a fan of the car once the first fourteen hours have passed. You enjoyed Oregon, mostly because you were rarely put down. There isn't a shortage of aunts and cousins to play with and your Grandma and Grandpa are in love with you.

Thank you for smiling and laughing so often. It shows me how well adjusted you are. It reminds me that "it is no small thing when they, who are so fresh from God, love us." -Dickens. Matthew, we love you more than you can ever begin to imagine. We love that you are happy. We love that you are healthy (mysterious vomiting excluded). We love that you have a family and, especially, a brother, who find you as irresistible as we do. My whole heart is yours, as well it should be. For you didn't grow under my heart, but in it. Thank you, Son, for allowing me the privilege of being your mother for these past four months. I love you!

-Mommy

Sunny Days

Here in Eugene, the skies are clear blue. I kid you not. Given the fact that I have been to Oregon on several occasions during the last six years and seen only a few sunny days, I am astounded by the fact that the sun has been out for THREE DAYS STRAIGHT. It leads me to the conclusion that I could live here. For a month out of each year. In late June. In a summer house I own because I won the lottery. It's a beach house. It overlooks a sandy coastline bathed in driftwood. There is a large window seat that I blog from just before I lay out for an hour every day. I also eat chocolate all day long and don't get fat. I have clam chowder from Mo's every evening for dinner and I have a personal masseuse named Sven who comes twice a week. When I crawl into my 1500 thread count sheets at 11:00 pm each night, I can hear the waves lapping at the shoreline. Here in my dream world, it never rains in Oregon.

The Rock Star has been having a great time playing with his cousins who he usually refers to as those kids. On occasion he uses their names or the phrase mine tousins. At night he sleeps on the floor of our room (my in-laws guest room) in a pop-up tee pee which he is enjoying immensely. Spud is loving his life as he rarely, if ever, gets put down. Troy's youngest sister, Jana, has taken a special liking of him and has threatened to kidnap him. (Wouldn't that just add a special kind of drama. As if Matthew's four months* haven't been crazy enough). I guess it's only fair that she utters such idle threats. On more than one occasion I'm sure I threatened to kidnap her first born when she was a baby five years ago.

We've been able to spend time with Troy's two youngest sisters, their kids, my mother and father in law, and Uncle Ed. Everyone loves Matthew. He's hard not to love, what with his incessant smiling and giggling. Uncle Ed is a family friend and, well, where Garrett looks like me, Matthew looks like Ed. If only for the pigment in their skin.

We've taken lots of pictures of the kids playing in the yard, playing in pop-up tunnels, playing in the dirt, playing. Playing. Playing. I'll post some of them when I get home. I've meant to work on my retreat stuff. I've meant to. But all I've succeeded in doing is finishing a novel, chatting with family, and watching my boy with his cousins. It has certainly been relaxing...and, well, sunny.

*Four month letter coming soon...

16

We made it. Finally. It took us just over 16 hours. It was ridiculous. I think feeding a baby added to the length of time we were stopped for. The boys did GREAT! Spud cried pretty much non stop for the last hour and 45 minutes but, all things considered, that was a relatively small amount of crying. The Rock Star was, as usual, a fantastic traveler. We had the portable DVD player in case we needed reinforcements. Our rule is that he can watch ONE movie. He didn't watch any! Way to go, Garrett! You are becoming the terrific car-rider I always knew you'd be.

We stayed with wonderful friends in Boise and had a great time catching up with them. Thanks, Dubs, for letting us stay in your guest room.

Driving

Today the boys and I drove up to Logan, Utah to visit my footprint leaver and her kids. As soon as I veered off the 15 I started feeling homesick. The rest of the drive, although much greener, reminded me of driving into Ramona, California. We passed rolling hills and cows and horses. When we finally got into the town, it was like a slightly larger version of Ramona had plopped itself down in northern Utah. I could almost smell La Cocina's delicious Mexican food beckoning me. Of course, there was no La Cocina. I wasn't in Ramona. It just looked like it. We had a great time visiting and our five hours there flew by much too quickly. Then we turned around and drove the hour and 45 minutes home.

Tomorrow, we'll drive an almost identical route on our way to Boise and then on to Eugene, Oregon on Friday. I'm not looking forward to 192 hours in the car with an almost three-year-old and an almost four-month-old. And okay, so it's not 192 hours but I get a different answer from everyone I talk to. I've heard anywhere from 13 to 16 hours. Since Spud will likely tire of staring at the back of the seat rather quickly and The Rock Star will have to go potty every 45 minutes, I'm anticipating a record for longest trip made from Salt Lake City to Eugene. Yippee. Ti. Yi. Ay. But I am looking forward to what I'll get to see on this trip. I haven't been through Idaho since I was nine. I've never been through eastern Oregon.

I may be out of commission for awhile. I'll try to post once or twice from Oregon but we are looking forward to getting away for a few days. I plan on pretending that lawyers and legal fees and adoption proceedings and birth fathers just don't even exist. I'm planning on simply vacationing with my family of four for the first time. Have a great upcoming week. See you soon.

Worth Fighting For

Tonight at the dinner table, The Rock Star was "singing" part of a Taylor Swift song. Since he's always been a Hannah Montana fan, I mistakenly asked the question, "Who are you going to marry, Taylor Swift or Miley Cyrus?" He thought about it for a split second before replying.

"Mommy. I'm gonna marry Ana."

Right. My bad. And he said it like I was betraying his one true love by even asking. Oh sure, Taylor Swift is gorgeous. Miley Cyrus is rolling around in more money than I'd even know what to do with. Neither of them holds a candle to his Ana.

Troy interjected, "Wow. That's certainly choosing love over money."

Speaking of choosing love over money...Oh, Jon & Kate Plus 8. I always only watched the show in reruns. And yeah, I thought she was overbearing and yeah, I thought he was kind of a measly little pushover but I attributed it to holycowwehaveeightkids! Count them. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight.

I don't know why I've been so sad over their pending (but obvious) announcement. As I watched the episode last night I wanted to bury my face in my husband's neck. But he wasn't there with me because he said it was like watching a train wreck. A train wreck that could have maybe been avoided if they'd stopped doing the show for five seconds and worked on their marriage. Maybe they tried. Maybe they didn't. But it certainly wouldn't have hurt to get their faces off of the television while they dealt with a very private matter.

My least favorite part of the entire episode was when Kate said she sobbed for half a day. Wow. Half a day over a ten year marriage. I'm at almost six years and I can tell you that if Troy and I decided to divorce, I'd be sobbing for at least a whole day. At least. I'll go out on a limb and say that I'd be crying pretty inconsolably for a very long time.

When it was over I did bury my face in his neck. I breathed in and recognized the familiar scent of my husband. He was given to me to have and to hold and to love and to cherish. I'm going to try my absolute hardest to stand by all those things I said. And, if I ever find myself letting go and losing my marriage, I'm going to claw and scrape and fight for it. I'm going to cling to that man with every reserve I can tap into. So, in a weird and unfortunate sort of way, I'm thankful to Jon & Kate because they reminded me of just how much I love my husband. They reminded me that he is mine and he doesn't belong to any other human the way he belongs to me. They reminded me that if, God forbid, I ever find myself in their situation, I will battle with everything inside of me to save this union. These years cannot just be dissolved as though they never existed to begin with. I will not easily give up on my holy matrimony. I love you, Troy. In the good times and in the tough times. In the days of paradise and in the days of stress and muck. Thank you for choosing me to share this life with. I consider it a great privilege.

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Please keep my friend, Michelle, and her husband, Kevin, and their unborn daughter, Karsie, in your prayers. Michelle is in the hospital having contractions. Karsie is due in two months. They've stopped the contractions for now but please pray fervently for these people. Karsie will have some medical obstacles to overcome when she is born and it is definitely best for her to stay put for a little while longer.

Following their story last night, as Kevin updated from his phone, made me hug my boys a little tighter and appreciate them a little more.

Badeens

For any of you stopping by to see how today's deposition went. It didn't. Today’s informal deposition of BF was postponed due to conflicts in his attorney’s schedule. Our lawyer left him all dates available for him between today and the next hearing. At least it didn't cost us any money.

Oh yeah...I guess I didn't really understand that these are "informal" depositions.

In other news, I went to WalMart today to get a few things for our trip. (We're driving to Oregon at the end of the week.) While standing in the travel section looking for plastic bottles to Matthew's shampoo and lotion in, The Rock Star saw the feminine hygiene section. Now, he's asked me what they are and I just reply, "Girlie things."

Today he said, loudly, "Mommy, those are girlie badeens."

It should be noted that badeen is his word for Band-Aid.

It Take Someone Special To Be A Dad

"Any man can be a father. It takes someone special to be a dad."

When I was growing up, we had that on a plaque in our house. I always really liked it. It was certainly true of my own dad. He was my playmate, my provider, my hero. He worked hard both at his job and at raising us. I'm sure there was never a dull moment. I mean, the man taught me how to drive stick for goodness sake. Well, to be fair, he pretty much gave up trying to teach me, handed me the keys and said, "Go drive until you figure it out." But that was only after hours and hours in the passenger seat while I went down with the gas pedal, up with the clutch, stall. Down with the gas pedal, up with the clutch, stall. Repeat.

Repeat.

Repeat.

My poor dad. He hung in there like a trooper. He changed cloth diapers. He taught me how to ride a two-wheeler. He attended several father/daughter dances even though it meant he often had to be in costume. He took us on vacations galore. He pretended not to see the price tags on my prom dresses. He gave me away.

He's my son's best friend.

Thank you, Dad. I know that anyone can be a father...but it takes someone special to be a dad.

I found that quote online on a onesie. I ordered it even though it was more than I would normally spend on something my son will outgrow in a matter of seconds weeks. But it was one of those things you just have to have. It arrived in the mail over a month ago and I've been dying to put Matthew in it ever since. This morning I got him dressed and then said, "Matthew is wearing one of your Father's Day presents." I promptly turned him around.

Any man (okay, most men) can father a child. But not every man can be a daddy. On the day Matthew was born, I spent the majority of the nighttime hours retching violently. (Is anyone really surprised?) It was Troy who fed him and changed him while I was afraid to allow myself near him with what I thought might be the plague. Before Matthew started sleeping through the night, it was Troy who took one of the two feedings. It is Troy who reminds me that if we lose everything fighting for our son, it'll be alright. He's his daddy.

This isn't Troy's first time around the fatherhood block. He adores his precocious almost three year old. The one who, today, in an occupied public restroom, said to me in a loud voice, "Mommy, do you have a penis?" When I quietly told him no he continued with his line of questioning, "Mommy, what do you have?" Thankfully my silence wasn't followed by more questions. This time.

The one who, after a string of poor choices that earned him a, You're going to get punished when we get home, from his dad replied with a chipper and expectant, "Happy Father's Day!" He knows how to cut his dad off at the knees.

I've always wanted to be a mommy and it was of great importance to me that I find someone who always wanted to be daddy. Suffice it to say, I found him.