I have a dear friend from high school, Jennie, who never ceases to elicit emotion from me. Many times its sheer joy and laughter, like the times in high school….when we were stupid and dumb….and we decided to steal a garbage can from a city park. Why would we want to steal a garbage can? I have no clue.  Nevertheless, we decided that’s what we were going to do with our evening, and I will never forget how hilarious it was to watch her rolling this huge garbage can from the park pavilion to the back of the “get-a-way” car and then wrestling with it to try and smash into the back seat. It is memories like this one and so many others that makes her such a precious friend.

Unfortunately, sometimes the emotion that floods my heart when I think about Jennie is heartache and sorrow (if you will remember, I wrote a post about her and the struggles her mom has been going through with her battle against cancer). And as if having a mother with cancer isn’t enough to choke me up, I’ll never forget how I felt when I found out that she went into labor 6 weeks before her due date and nearly died giving birth. She had a rare complication with her pregnancy called HELLP syndrome. Her liver was bleeding, she had an emergency C-section, and her life was touch and go for days after the ordeal. But like anything else Jennie has ever had to overcome, she fought back and won. She made a full recovery and her son is a beaming, healthy young boy.

From the moment I met Jennie, we have always had a special kind of relationship. You know the type of friend, the one who you can go weeks and sometimes even months without talking to because life gets busy and time flies by, but when you finally do reconnect, it’s like you haven’t missed a beat. That’s the kind of friend Jennie has been to me all these years. We have very similar personalities, so we have had our moments when in one way or another, we have hurt each other’s feelings. But it’s never been intentional and it’s never put even so much as a dent in our friendship. I think back to high school and the fondest memories I have, include Jennie. I reminisce about difficult struggles I’ve faced in my adult life, and she again is there in the memories as a shoulder to lean on.

I look to her in awe at all she has accomplished. She has a terrific marriage….I think I may love her hubby as much as I love her. She has gorgeous, intelligent children, and she is truly a terrific mother. She has also managed….on top of being a doting wife and mother…..to establish an esteemed career. A career I’ve always craved, but never chased….so to see her succeed in such a fashion makes me beam with pride over her success.

And no matter how insane her life gets, she still does a great job at being a wonderful daughter/sister to her family and a loyal friend to many. I can’t say that I’ve been nearly as good at prioritizing my busy life to include my friends as she manages to do. I often feel like a bad friend because I get so wrapped up in my day-to-day life that I don’t take the time to be the friend to her that she deserves. She is always in my thoughts and always on my mind, but I don’t slow down long enough to make the phone call or send out the email like I should to stay in touch. For that…I am sorry.

I truly marvel at all she has done with her life and it moves me to tears to think of who she was as a 15 year-old, high school girl…..and to look at her now….this amazing, beautiful, well educated, and talented woman. She has never failed to be a friend to me and while I know I have failed her on many occasions, I just want her to know what a gift her friendship has been to me all these years. I want her to read this and walk away knowing that I truly consider her a gift from God above, and that I’m blessed to have her in my life and to call her my friend.

Of all the changes I’ve experienced over the years….all the highs and lows, she remains one of the only constants in my life…and for that, I am eternally grateful!

Jennie, while mere words are not enough…and I am failing miserably here to articulate how much you mean to me…please know that I love you! Thank you for being you!

It has been one week since my third child, Brady, turned 10 years old and it is finally time for me to write my little birthday tribute to him. I always struggle to write these posts not due to lack of feeling or inspiration, but because I struggle to put those feelings into words. After all, how do you possibly sum up what your child means to you or what his birth did to change you as a person for the rest of your life? How do you find the words to describe how much each day with your child is a true gift from God? And what words can articulate how the mere presence of this angel in your life moves you to tears on a regular basis?

So with that in mind, I will do my best to describe my life with Brady in it, but I know there are no words to adequately describe how much joy he adds to my days. I will post this meager attempt at putting a mother’s love into tangible words, fully knowing I have failed miserably with the first sentence.

Brady’s birthday was on October 15^th but he celebrated it with the H1N1 virus so needless to say, it was a pretty low-key birthday for my little man. We gave him his gifts on his actual birthday, which he seemed grateful for, but the normal excitement in his eyes was hampered by the raging fever he was fighting. My heart just broke for him because I know all too well how much you wait all year for your one special day to arrive and then to wake up on that momentous day with a fever, terrible cough, and body aches is just downright depressing.

As an adult, I have spent birthdays in the hospital and lying sick in bed from my asthma. I still remember how sad I was to see my birthday come and go during those “sick” years and feeling too ill to take in the moment. So for a child….a child who waits anxiously all year long for that one day….well, like I said….my heart broke for him.

On the bright side, he rebounded rather quickly from the virus and in no time was up and around enjoying his birthday gifts. We had my parents over for a big Dairy Queen Ice Cream cake, per Brady’s request, and he blew out his candles just a few short days after his actual birthday. Brady took the illness in stride, as he tends to take most things in life with little or no fussing.

He has always been a very even keeled, well mannered, and mellow kind of a child. Even as a baby, I remember how easy he was to take care of. It was like he knew I had my hands full with his two older siblings who are admittedly, much more high maintenance than Brady has ever been, so he always just hung out quietly by my side and observed the world around him. He has never been a huge talker, but when he does chose to speak up, it is always deeply thought out and profound for even an adult’s thinking.

I will never forget some of the intensely deep things he used to say about God, Jesus, and death when he was only 5 and 6 years old. He would tell me, as I tucked him in at night, how he was so excited to meet Jesus and that death wasn’t sad, it was exciting because you could finally meet Jesus in person. I used to walk out of his room in a cold sweat and check on him every 15 minutes during those nights because I was so afraid he was bracing me for his death or something morbid like that. I mean, talking about how excited you are to die someday is not what a mother wants to hear from her healthy 5 year old, but Brady never saw the problem in talking about death. He truly had a better grasp on the entire issue than most adults I know…myself included.

And his faith in God has always been unparallel. He blurts out things that I struggle to wrap my brain around, but I know he must make the good Lord smile from ear to ear to hear one of His miracles understand Him and His teachings in such a profound way at such a young age. I can honestly say that Brady has taught me more about faith than any Bible study or years of attending mass ever has.

I have always called him a wise soul, and he has never failed to live up to that kind of spirit. For example, the other day he was hanging out in the kitchen with me while I was wrestling to get any amount of actual food into Miss Natalie for lunch. He was home sick, Natalie was sick, and I was coming down with the flu myself at the time. Brady was quietly observing, as he always does, and then when he felt it was time, he spoke up and said, “Being a parent is really hard. I mean, you are fighting to feed one baby and you are growing another baby in your stomach. It’s a lot of hard work to be a mom.”

I instantly laughed aloud as I tend to do when he speaks up because I’m always taken back by his amazingly vivid observations. I then paused for a moment just marveling in the wisdom of his words. I told him that he was exactly right….that being a parent was a ton of hard work, but it was also well worth it. He watched us for just a short minute longer and then ran off to play. And these are the typical interactions we have with Brady. The strong, silent type who blows you clear off your feet when he does decide to let you into his thoughts.

As difficult as it can be sometimes to parent a child who doesn’t openly share his feelings without a considerable amount of prodding, it can also be the most enlightening experience of my days as a mother. He opens my eyes to ideas and observations I have never even considered before his young mind dreams them up. He is such a delight to spend time with because I know that he is comfortable enough in himself, even at such a young age, that he does not have to fill the silence with chatter, but can sit there in the quiet, content and taking in the moment. I know many adults who can’t even do that.

So it is without further ado that I wish my angel….my Bray-Bray…..a happy 10^th birthday. I know in my heart that he will fill this upcoming year with more wisdom and clever observations and make parenting him the joy that it has and will continue to be.

I love you my son deeper than you will ever know.

Alright, I had written a 2-page post about the new house…how much I’m enjoying the decorating, painting, arranging and then rearranging furniture, etc. HOWEVER, my flippen computer decided to go “offline” about 3 sentences into my 2-page post, and I did not realize it. After I was finished writing it, I hit the “save draft” button and what to my wondering eyes do appear, but the dreaded “this webpage cannot be displayed” message (and 8 tiny reindeer)….so once I got myself back online, my computer had only auto saved those first 3 sentences. Frustrated, I had to walk away and have now lost all inspiration to discuss my passion for faux finishes and the blank canvass my new home has presented me with.

So, I guess you are stuck with an update about my pregnancy and my new found love of anything I previously used to hate! Take for example, the 2 packages of Starburst I have purchased for my snacking pleasure during Kylie’s last 2 volleyball games. I don’t think I’ve eaten a Starburst in 15 plus years, and all of a sudden, I’m downing them like an 8 year old looking for a quick sugar buzz before he hits the playground for a hot game of recess kickball. I just cannot seem to get enough of that fake, fruity goodness (so much for my health food kick).

And then there’s my new addiction to Krunchers Jalapeno potato chips. This fun little snack with a kick like no other has been my new passion for the past 24 hours. We had a makeshift birthday celebration for my son, Brady, who turned 10 last Thursday. He was fortunate enough be hit with the H1N1 virus right before his big day. My poor baby spent his birthday with a terrible fever and laid in his bed for 12 hours straight.

Anyway, he is finally feeling better so my parents joined us last night for a belated birthday celebration and that is when I discovered how great spicy, extra crunchy chips could really be. The oddest thing is I hate spicy foods. Anything that has a peppery bite to it and makes my tongue burn sends me running in the opposite direction. So why did I feel the need to consume half the bag last night and today worked my way through the other half of the bag, I guess it is a mystery I am not meant to understand at this point and I’m ok with that.

For the time being, I’m really enjoying all sorts of tasteful delights that have eluded me over the years. I know I can thank these wonderful pregnancy hormones for the swift shift in my taste bud preferences, but now if they would only back off a little on my tear ducts because this crying-every-day business is really getting old!

I realized tonight that I never followed up with my breastfeeding/weaning saga and decided that I would give closure to all of you sitting around, waiting with baited breath just wondering, “I wonder what ever happened with Sara and her boob issues?” Well, tonight I’m going to wrap that up for all of you….I know, I know….please try to control your enthusiasm as you read on.

As many of you know, for Natalie’s first year of life, I nursed her to get her to fall asleep….for every nap, and every night before bed.  Then I would nurse her several times throughout the night, not because she was hungry, but because that was the only way she would fall back asleep.  I had created quite a monster and breaking our bad habits was not easy, but shortly after her first birthday, we succeeded.

Since the pregnancy of child number 6 developed, I worked diligently to wean her from the breast.  It took several weeks, but we both came through it with flying colors.   Part of the problem was that she refused to drink cow’s milk from a cup so she wasn’t getting the adequate amount of fluid intake that she needed.  It was quite a stressful couple of months going back and forth between staying strong and not giving into breastfeeding and then caving because I got myself all worked up that she hadn’t wet through enough diapers for the day.

Well, one day we were playing in her room and she found one of her old bottles.  We had a few on hand for the times I was out and about and daddy needed to feed her.  She picked it up and started sucking on it as if to say, “Hey you moron, if you would just give me the cow’s milk in this here bottle instead of trying to force me to drink out of those darn sippie cups, then we would have no problem with this weaning business!”  So I followed her lead and gave her the bottle with whole milk, and she sucked it down in 15 seconds flat.  It was a victorious day for both of us and the true weaning process began on that day many months ago.

It’s now been several months since I last breast fed Miss Natalie and there are still many times I miss it dearly.  I rock her in her room at night feeding her a bottle and most nights she takes it just fine, but she still has her moments. When she is really upset and tugs on my shirt as if to say, “Please mommy, I’m really having a hard time right now, and I just need that comfort food you have stored in the homemade bottles you are hiding down your shirt.”   I can only equate it to someone telling me that in my darkest hours…. in my most hormonal moments….that I cannot turn to chocolate for the comfort I need to get me through the day.  But even worse is that I’m her mom and I’m the one denying her that comfort food!

I know…I’m a monster.  But it was truly getting to be unmanageable in our house and the madness needed to come to an end. Given that and coupled with the fact that in just 5 short months I will be turning my boobs over to the next baby, I know I did the right thing by weaning her.

So now you know the ending to my breastfeeding tales, and I’m sure you will all sleep better tonight for having the knowledge that Miss Natalie and I got through it and we are both doing alright.

Where do I begin this evening? So much has happened since my last post (I know…it’s been too long), that I don’t even know what to cover first.

Let me quickly address our housing situation since that’s where I last left off.  To make a long story very short, everything worked out….solely due to God’s grace….well, God’s grace along with the meager price of $600 to make the wife “comfortable” with letting us move in early.  We were able to move into our house last Saturday.  It was a rough few days to minimize how things really felt, but we made it through in tact and are pleased to have enjoyed our first week in our new house.   Corey and I love the house.  The kids seem to like it as they are adapting to the change a bit slower than we have, but I know they will grow to love it time.   Every box is unpacked.  All the pictures are hung.  We are settled in and now planning out our home improvement projects.  Our closing is this week Wednesday, October 14 (so much for “hoping for” October 2).  While we have made it our home already, it will still feel wonderful to make it official by signing on the dotted line!

Moving on to even bigger and better things than our new home is my husband, Corey’s birthday!  His birthday is tomorrow, October 12 and in this house, we celebrate birthdays BIG!  Well, I mean we don’t fly to Paris for the weekend or anything, but it’s always been really important to me that I make everyone feel extra special on their birthday.

When Corey came into our lives many years ago, this grand celebration with a big dinner, family and friends over to celebrate, presents, cake, and ice cream was not met with open arms by him.  He never really cared for the big “fuss” over him.  He always preferred to go about his day as if it were any ordinary day and did not like all the attention and fan fare we put on for him.  I always had hurt feelings because the kids and I would go out of our way to make him feel special, and he would get crabbier as the day progressed.  I talked to his mom about his apparent attitude one time, and she told me that he’s always been that way.  Holidays, including his birthday, were never his favorite.   She told me that he always seemed to get quiet and sullen on big days and that it was just part of who he was.  I needed to just accept it and treat his birthday as any other day if I wanted to keep the peace.

Well, for any of you who know me, you can imagine how well that went over.  I just couldn’t get myself to ignore his birthday.  The kids were always excited to celebrate it, and it just didn’t seem right to treat the day he was born as “no big deal”.   So I did things my way…the only way I know how.

We celebrated every year whether he liked it or not.  I would make a big dinner.  The kids and I would make the cake and decorate it together.  We would pick out his present and wrap it.  The streamers and decorations were hung and the camera battery was fully charged and ready to go.  There were a few years after he knew what to expect when he came home from work that he would work “late” on those nights just trying to avoid the ordeal.  But we waited patiently and celebrated when he did decide to show up regardless of the time.

As the years together progressed, he seemed to accept that this is something we need to do and he’s become a much better sport about the whole thing.  One year I even threw a little surprise party for him with family and friends at his favorite restaurant.  His mom was nervous and holding her breath to see how he reacted to this little ditty. I just walked in holding his hand and praying to God he wouldn’t be angry with me for the rest of the year for pulling a stunt like that.   Much to all of our surprise, he handled it well and seemed to really enjoy himself.  I think that was a real turning point for both of us.

Given his feelings surrounding birthday hoopla, you can just imagine my surprise this year when he started talking about his “birthday weekend” coming up and what we were going to do to celebrate!  I can honestly say that every time he mentioned the weekend with excitement and anticipation in his voice, it nearly brought me to tears.   I felt more relief and pure joy in my heart celebrating with him this year than ever before.   We didn’t do anything spectacular, but just knowing that he was looking forward to it made it all the more special…for me at least!

On Saturday, we went to dinner and a movie with some dear friends of ours.  We laughed, talked, and enjoyed the evening together just as any date night….but for me, I felt more connected to him than ever before.   To see him relax, let his guard down, and enjoy being out to celebrate HIM, was almost magical!  It felt like we had finally broken down whatever barrier had been in place all these years that made him feel he was unworthy of celebrating.

Tonight, we had a nice, big family dinner complete with decorations, ice cream, and angel food cake (his favorite).  He opened his presents and again, it appeared as though his wall was down.  Tomorrow night is his actual birthday and of course our schedule is chalked full of events….football practice, volleyball game, homework, etc, etc….so the festivities will come to an end for this year.

But as I reflect on this amazing man I get the privilege of growing old with, I am moved once again to tears over how blessed I am to have him in my life.  He is insanely intelligent and wonderfully charming.  He is a man of few words, but when he does chose to speak up, he is always worth listening to.  He is passionate about so many worthy causes that when I sit back and watch him discuss the injustices in this world that move him, he actually compels me to want to make a difference….he even makes me feel like I can make a difference in this world.  He is one of my biggest supporters and knows me better than I know myself.  He is strong and steadfast and the most fiercely loyal man I know.   To know him, is to love him, and he sincerely makes me want to be a better person each and every day.  I am blessed to lay beside him each night and tackle each day with him by my side.

It is because of all this and so much more, I will do my best to honor my husband on his special day…this year and all the years to come.  Whether he realizes it or not, the day he came into this world will ALWAYS be worth celebrating!

And to his mother who raised him to be the man he is today….thank you!

Happy Birthday Corey.  I love you!