From Here to Eternity {AKA, When You Find Out the Sex of Your Baby}

Guess what's on this week's calendar? That's right - only two more sleeps until we find out if our little  one is a girl or a boy! And I have been so patient.

Yeah right.

I don't think I've ever been so impatient in my entire life! Instead of using the phrase 'A watched pot never boils', I have coined a new expression: 'A watched pregnant belly will not tell you if it's a girl or boy.' Shouldn't we be able to just Google it by now?

Poor Joey. Every day for the past four months I have been in countdown mode and every night before we go to bed I make reference to May 30th. Things like "Did you know that in such-and-such number of days:hours:minutes:seconds:milliseconds we'll know pink or blue?" "Did you know that a week from today we'll know?" "Did you know that the day after tomorrow I'll be able to say 'Did you know that tomorrow we'll know?'" You get the picture.

I do not even know how folks that wait until birth do it! Why must we know? First, Joey and I have never once considered this. Let me just share that Joey proposed to me a month early because the ring came in sooner than expected and he couldn't stand waiting any longer. I, on the otherhand, have the patience of Job course. So it's Joey's fault that we can't wait.

Predictions? I have no idea if I'm carrying low, high, out, in, a little to the left, etc. I don't really have specific cravings - salty or sweet. Some days one woman looks at me and says boy and one grocery aisle away I'm told girl. If I have to go with my gut, I would say girl - but really? Who knows? Joey says boy just because girl makes him anxious; mainly because he knows he'll be whipped and wrapped around that tiny little finger. {But, shhh...don't tell him I said this...I think he'll be whipped regardless!)

Things I am most excited about in finding out?

I want to say 'he' or 'she' and definitely not 'it'.

I want to buy something decidedly boy or girl. In a culture where everything is gender hazy there are few baby items that are gender neutral. So far, we can buy a thermometer and even that could be pink or blue.

Start moving forward decidely with the nursery.

Do we really care one way or the other? Nope! We just want to know one more thing about our baby's identity.

Did you know that the day after tomorrow we'll know?

Joy That Passes Understanding

I've been a quiet blogger over the past many months, but now I just can't be quiet any more. I've been wanting to write about our news from the moment we found out. We're pregnant! Our little one is due in October and we are beyond excited. This is something for which we've been hoping for a while now and I want to document every bit of it on this blog. However, there's been a pause each time I start this post.

This little joy that's poking me in my side at this very moment is also tied in my mind to another joy we lost. I feel that bringing up this life I'm carrying without bringing up the little life lost almost 10 months ago would be a sort of injustice. We lost a baby at a little over eight weeks this past year.

It's taken me 10 months to write that sentence. Not being able to write, at least in my case, is kind of a funny thing because all too often it's quite the opposite. I love journaling and getting my thoughts out in type or on paper. But in this case, where words may come off the tongue and disappear with a breath, the written word brings a measure of finality.

I will write about the experience of miscarriage one of these days as there are others who are going through or will go through the same thing. But it will not be today. Today is about two joys. One we were blessed to know for eight weeks and the second, 19 weeks and 3 days to date with an impending arrival of October 2013.

They are both blessings from the Lord; no matter the life span, each ordained by God with a purpose here on earth. Sometimes those purposes only make sense in light of heaven. The Lord's timing is perfect and always good.

Now, there are lots of good things in store for this blog. Much to share and much to ask. But for now, I'm just reflecting on God's goodness and grace.

For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother's womb. 

I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. 

Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well. - Psalm 139:15

The Risks of Spontaneous Pontification

There are some moments that are made for taking risks. When you completely embrace the spontaneity of life. You make a run straight for destiny.

It was in this spirit that Joey and I decided to take a leap.

We tried out a new restaurant.

I know...we're big-time risk takers.

I'm not gonna lie. We were scared. In fact, we had to talk ourselves into it while we were in the parking lot. Afterall, we knew there were a few restaurants down the road where we could walk in and high five the waiters from familiarity. Comfort and reliability were just a few blocks away.

Should we do this?

Joey was going to do a little reconnaissance before we committed. As we were talking it through and as if on cue, the hostess opened the door. She had apparently been watching us from the window. She was a smart one, she was. Or maybe she just thought we were casing the joint. Regardless, the opportunity for recon work and peeling out of the parking lot was now gone.

We were committed.

I wish I could tell you that we found a new favorite restaurant. That we struck gold. A diamond in the rough. I wish I could tell you that we found out that Bobby Flay had a secret restaurant where he liked to masquerade as an ingenue cook in Katy, Texas. It was not to be.

First off the spice level had me choking throughout dinner. Did someone spike my soup with a wicked cocktail of cayenne, jalapeno juice and a cup of black pepper?

Then upon first bite of the second entree I thought that my taste buds had been stunned into brokenness from the aforementioned soup. But no. For all the flavor of the first dish, the second had no flavor at all. It was terrible. Play-doh spaghetti noodles have more flavor and substance than these.

So I gave the waitress heck. I mean, I sent back dish after dish. Exclaiming "What do you call this mush?" while faking being a restaurant critic just to strike fear in their hearts.

Ah, you know me too well. I did absolutely nothing. Nothing! In fact, it gets worse.

The waitress comes by as I've just finished telling Joey that my tongue is permanently damaged and will never taste again. What does she ask? "How is it?"

Here's my chance. The moment of truth for this restaurant hangs on this fake restaurant critic's words.

"It's great!" I say with a numb mouth full of Play-doh noodles.

I could not bear to do it. She was too sweet. The restaurant too new. They were hoping I would like it too much.

This went on for three more waitress passes.

And it gets worse.

She looked at the uneaten food on my plate and asked me if I wanted to get a to-go box. I wish my mouth really had been numbed completely. This is practically a diner's seal of approval.

I got the box.

I'm a coward.

She still thinks their food is great.

Joey is fairly baffled by this behavior.

Odds are this restaurant's days are numbered. The Play-doh noodles and taste bud killing soup niche is already at capacity anyway. And my conflict avoidance is only delaying the inevitable. But at least the waitress isn't having a bad night because of me. Am I the only one who does this?

I could never be a food critic. Or one of those judges on Chopped. One sappy story about how they're making the vanilla bean and kale chutney over veal in honor of their mother who always believed in them and I would be done.

On the plus side, I've got Play-doh noodles for lunch tomorrow. And maybe the next day.

Wistfully White Weekend

 

Ahh...Labor Day weekend. I love it. It's a last long summer stretch that's just right.

It also happens to put an end to all things white. So like all practical girls, I wore all my white stuff out this past week until it was black and blue. I just have to make sure my summer white wardrobe has been fully taken advantage of before banishment to the back of my closet until Easter.

Am I the only one who goes into a frenzy with seasonal clothes before The Change?

My wardrobe days went like this:

Monday - white pants

Tuesday - ruffled white shirt with linen tweed paints

Wednesday - off white flowy shirt with white and taupe striped pants

You get the picture...

I wore everything white that I own with the exception of my wedding dress and had there been one more work day in the week it might have even made an appearance. Wouldn't my co-workers have been surprised if I would have shown up in my wedding dress? "Oh, this old thing?" - that's what I would have said.

I always tend to do this the week before Labor Day. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE LOVE fall and color clothing options that come with it, but I feel completely guilty about not having spent quality time with the whites in my closet. I'm hoping that this last ditch effort will prevent them from seeking therapy once placed on the back hanger. If you see them on Montel Williams you at least know I gave it a shot. Is that still on?

Meanwhile, guess what was added to Joey's wardrobe last week?

Yup. Kelly Kapowski. Apparently it was 90's week at his Crossfit gym. Joey seemed to be quite pleased with his new shirt. Kelly was his favorite on Saved by the Bell. I always thought Jessie and Lisa were prettier than Kelly, but apparently that's just me. I really think this shirts all talk. There's no way Joey would EVER wear this. I can't even get him to wear pastels or patterns so I doubt it if Kelly Kapowski comes out of the closet. If you see me on Montel Williams, you know what happened.

Hope you and your family had a great Labor Day Weekend and are well-rested! Also, I hope you wore out your whites too!

Elizabeth's Coffee

 

Elizabeth. I know very little about her personally. I know she likes to collect what some might consider junk and make it into something beautiful. I know she has a grandchild that lives many states away.

I would guess she's in her late fifties or early sixties, but her sparkly blue eyes could convince you that she's no more than sixteen. She's one of those people that you know has seen a lot of life. She has long thick blond hair that is always held together in a parade of ponytails. She has a a scar above her lip and walks with a slight limp. I found the latter out after several months of knowing her.

Elizabeth works behind the Cafe on the Go check-out counter at HEB. I visit two to three times each week. Now, I love the salad bar at HEB and a Sweet Leaf Tea on the go. But, honest? I go to see Elizabeth.

She knows about the odds and ends of my life. Anything beyond my routine salad and Sweet Leaf purchase and Elizabeth will get to the bottom of it. She often knows what we'll be having for dinner that night, if one of us is sick, when it's my grandmother's birthday and even when I'm having a chocolate craving. I suppose you can learn a lot about a person by what they pick up at the grocery store. It's odd to think about someone knowing so many little things about you and not even knowing their last name.

But it's Elizabeth, so it's okay.

We usually talk about the upcoming weather, how it's tough that it's a Monday or how great that we've almost made it to the weekend. When the big stuff happens in life I want to tell her. But then I remember that she doesn't know any of the big stuff.

It was mid-morning and I wasn't in work clothes. I came to her counter with a strawberry ricotta muffin and poured a cup of coffee. When it came to be my turn to check-out, Elizabeth sized me up with my out-of-routine time and out-of-the-ordinary muffin and coffee. She rang it up and smiled quietly saying "That will be a $1.50 for the muffin." I asked, "Did you add the coffee?" "Nope, you've never had coffee before." She said this with her blue eyes twinkling that told me to just go with it and she began to check-out the next person in line.

Elizabeth knew this day was very different. It was more than Muffin-and-Coffee-Out-of-the-Ordinary and probably one of the saddest and toughest days of my life up to this point. Somehow free coffee from Elizabeth made it better.

Maybe it was random kindness or maybe she saw something in my eye that was different too.  Maybe free coffee was the Band-Aid that Elizabeth had to give.

I don't need to tell Elizabeth the big stuff. Somehow she just knows.

I did learn something else about my friend that day. The line at the cafe that morning was quite long. No one went around the corner to the twenty available check-out lines.

 

I'm not the only that comes to see Elizabeth.

Or maybe they're just there for the coffee. What do you think?

Some Bright Morning

Can I share something with you? In fact, I could barely keep from the keyboard yesterday in telling you as it was such a personal testimony. I wasn't holding out on you, just plain ran out of time. You know how it is.

I witnessed the most beautiful thing on Sunday. Before I share, I must tell you about these women. Their friendship is such a blessing. They both became widows within a year or two of each other. I have watched these ladies walk through this experience together. God has been so gracious to give them each other for added comfort and gracious to me for allowing me the opportunity to witness it.

Have you ever had a friend who walked alongside you during an unexpectedly shared experience? This kind of relationship bypasses the normal paths that often lead to friendship. It's the bond that's only built by shared hardship and forged through fire.

And when the shared experience involves death?

I love my husband so much. He's my best friend. To even think of experiencing their loss brings me physical pain. And yet, to watch these women rely completely on God to get them through this has personally been such an encouragement. It's the peace that passes understanding. It definitely passes my understanding. It doesn't mean there aren't tears. It's the hope in something more.

Which brings me to Sunday. I'm thanking God now for allowing me the opportunity to be a witness to their joy and hope. Sunday was a fantastic sermon, communion and reflection, and last of all - awesome worship through song.

The closing song began. It was I'll Fly Away. Old hymn, right? One that tickled us as children in straight-backed pews. We would flap our wings and giggle. I can still hear the older gentleman in the choir with the booming bass sing the echoing part "I'll fly away" -that tickled us too. And then we would add onto the verse lines like "into the blue green yonder.". We were kids. We thought we were clever. So all this came to mind at the beginning of this song.

Then I looked at my two ladies standing up front together. It wasn't just an old hymn for them. It was their hope and joy. I saw them look at each other with understanding. And then they held hands and turned their eyes upward. Although I couldn't hear them from where I was sitting, I knew that they were singing at the top of their lungs - whether it be in voice or in spirit. And it was truth. Is truth.

Oh, how glad and happy when we meet
I’ll fly away
No more cold iron shackles on my feet
I’ll fly away.

One day we will be reunited. Not only with believers passed, but with our Savior. I pray that I understand this song and firmly live with its message in mind. It's not just an old hymn. As believers, it is our hope and joy.

I'll fly away, oh Glory
I'll fly away in the morning
When I die Hallelujah, by and by
I'll fly away.

Caramelly Delighted But No Longer Thin...Mint

I have declared war on the Girl Scouts of America. Just so you know.

Hey, how are you? Did you have a good weekend? Seriously, let me know!

And have you met my sister, JoAnna?

Friends, Joanna. Joanna, friends. Now you're acquainted.

She visited over the weekend. Joey was out of town so it was the perfect time for a girls' weekend full of fun. I love having my sister here. We're different as night and day, but there's still a similarity in our difference, if that makes sense. You know what's funny? I didn't tell Jo this, but I looked over at her during church and noticed we were doing the exact same pose with our hands. Weird.

I wish I would have documented everything through pictures, but alas.

There was this:

Margherita Pizza - my fav-or-rite

And way too much of this:

If you weren't just girls, we would come to blows. A bunch of Health Wreckers!

And we watched:

Our review? It was meh. I guess we like our Shakespeare a little more traditional.

The next day we did a TON of this:

We had this for dinner:

Don't they make THE best sweet potato fries? I actually feel sorry for the regular fries. I bet they don't get much lovin'. They're like the original sister who got passed over by the step-sister.

The next day we:

All washed down with:

And then I went to an afternoon's Body Pump class as a form of penance.

Those Girl Scouts have been wrecking my healthy eating resolve for years. We definitely have history. I did not eat a scout's worth of cookies this weekend, but rather the whole troop's. Jo did a much better job of resisting the temptation.

I think I worked off about 1 Caramel Delight and 2.5 Thin Mints. Delight, yes. Thin, no.

In other news, guess who made dinner and brought these home for me today?

Yeah, he's pretty great.