It was 3:12am when he woke up. He was fussing for some reason, and wouldn't go back to sleep. He probably couldn't breathe very well, he was fighting a cold and was a bit stuffed up.
He was wide awake, we were not. I brought him out to the couch, where we could hopefully both fall back asleep for a while, but he did not. He lay there, on my chest, all calm and relaxed. He was breathing deep, as if he were sleeping.
But when I shifted ever so slightly, he picked his head up and looked at me. He then leaned his forehead in to be kissed, which I dutifully did. I then got up and walked him around the house. As little as two months ago, the walking would have put him clean out in a matter of seconds.
But not tonight. Instead, as I attempted to stumble around in my fatigue without dropping him, he stared at every little light from outside, every little twinkling reflection that caught his eye. He reached for the magnets as we walked by the fridge. He craned his neck to see over my shoulder as we walked by the sink, looking to see if his bottle was ready for him yet. No, buddy, not yet. It's still sleepy time.
He finally calmed down to the point where I wanted him. He was ready to go back to his bed.
As I put him down, he grabbed the collar of my shirt and would not let go. Bad sign. He began to pout, and then whimper as I laid him on his pillow. As I turned for the door, he stood up at the railing and began to cry.
I turned around and picked him back up. I know I shouldn't, but I had to be to work early, and my only goal was to get him quiet enough so that I could sleep. I picked him back up, and walked with him into our room, where our nursery rocking chair was. I began to rock him, another thing that usually puts him right out. But he saw Mommy move to look at us, and wanted to go see her.
So it was just after 3:30am that my wife and I ended up with a one year old in between us.
He seemed to calm down and drift off, and so we did too.
But then he flopped over to me.
Then back over to Shan.
Then back to me, where I held him in a bear hug so he couldn't move. He stopped squirming and lay still.
I felt his hand wrap around my thumb, and he wiggled as close as he could to me.
It didn't matter that I had to be up in an hour, everything was just as it should be. My wife was sleeping next to me, and my child was cuddled up in my arms. I sighed and closed my eyes in peace.
Then I felt a finger on my chin.
The finger stroked my chin, and became a hand which touched my lips. It lingered there for a brief moment, and I was smiling for the touch between father and son.
Then a one year old index finger climbed my upper lip, felt around there for a bit, and plunged itself deep into my left nostril.
Yeah....I love you too, buddy!
wingnut
Showing posts with label Family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Family. Show all posts
06 April 2009
16 January 2009
Happy Birthday!
From this:
To this, in only 365 days!
Yesterday we celebrated the year anniversary of one of the most tiring, excruciating, nerve-wracking days we have ever experienced as a family.
It was also, hands down, the most joyful day we have ever known.
Three years ago, we were not sure if we would ever experience a day like it.
All the heartache, the pain, the doctor visits, the exotic-sounding medications that may actually harm you, but might help you as well...
...and then the last visit, when the doctor says, "It doesn't look like it's going to happen this month, I'm sorry."
And then it happened.
And then we spent the better part of a year in a constant state of near-panic, thinking that just over every hill, around every corner, lurked some sinister event that would strip away all of our joy, and once again leave us with nothing but broken dreams and an empty cradle.
And then the day. The day that actually started at 8:00 PM the previous evening.
After much pain and discomfort, and little sleep or food, at 2:01 the next afternoon, little Elijah Jason made his entrance.
To say what we've done, or what he has done, or what our accomplishments have been in the past year would take up entirely too much space.
We just want to say Happy Birthday, Elijah.
We love you very much.
Mom and Dad.
To this, in only 365 days!
Yesterday we celebrated the year anniversary of one of the most tiring, excruciating, nerve-wracking days we have ever experienced as a family.
It was also, hands down, the most joyful day we have ever known.
Three years ago, we were not sure if we would ever experience a day like it.
All the heartache, the pain, the doctor visits, the exotic-sounding medications that may actually harm you, but might help you as well...
...and then the last visit, when the doctor says, "It doesn't look like it's going to happen this month, I'm sorry."
And then it happened.
And then we spent the better part of a year in a constant state of near-panic, thinking that just over every hill, around every corner, lurked some sinister event that would strip away all of our joy, and once again leave us with nothing but broken dreams and an empty cradle.
And then the day. The day that actually started at 8:00 PM the previous evening.
After much pain and discomfort, and little sleep or food, at 2:01 the next afternoon, little Elijah Jason made his entrance.
To say what we've done, or what he has done, or what our accomplishments have been in the past year would take up entirely too much space.
We just want to say Happy Birthday, Elijah.
We love you very much.
Mom and Dad.
30 December 2008
My Other Half
When I am weak, she is strong.
When I am timid, she is bold.
When I come up blank,
She is amazingly creative.
She keeps me organized.
She keeps me from thinking I'm all that and a bag of chips.
Because really, I'm not. And maybe just a single chip.
She is strong, independent, loyal.
She is tender, nurturing, and caring.
She is a spectacular mother, and an awesome wife.
I am glad that she let me pick her.
I love you Baby, Happy Birthday!
wingnut
When I am timid, she is bold.
When I come up blank,
She is amazingly creative.
She keeps me organized.
She keeps me from thinking I'm all that and a bag of chips.
Because really, I'm not. And maybe just a single chip.
She is strong, independent, loyal.
She is tender, nurturing, and caring.
She is a spectacular mother, and an awesome wife.
I am glad that she let me pick her.
I love you Baby, Happy Birthday!
wingnut
05 December 2008
Oh What a Beautiful Morning!
I hate mornings.
Well, I guess I don't have to be that harsh about it. Let's just say that I am nowhere near a morning person. I don't like being up anything before 9am. And even that, if there's nothing going on, seems a bit early to me. I would much rather stay in bed until around 10 or so, then maybe get up, surf the Internet for a while, feed The Boy, and stay in my pj's until I have to go to work in the afternoon.
I have always preferred the nights instead of the mornings, as far back as I can remember. When I was a kid, my parents would send me to bed, and I would just stay up and play with Legos or my GI Joes (or both) until I fell asleep. There are a few times I remember waking up the next morning next to my bed, with Lego pieces stuck to my face.
I never wanted to go to bed.
In college and after, if I ever saw 5am, it was usually from the other side. As in, "Holy cow, it's 5am! I really need to stop drinking coffee and go home!"
For the past ten months, I have been able to hang out and watch movies and generally have wonderfully relaxing mornings with The Boy. It's been awesome! Sure, I have to complete my share of the chores, but chasing around a crawling (and now walking) baby made things interesting and fun. Plus, I've been able to watch cartoons all the time, and have excuses to crawl around and play with toys too.
It helps that The Boy is not much of a morning person either. We would both prefer to sit on the couch for a while before we get moving around. I don't quite know if he was simply wired that way from the start, or if I trained him that way. Either way, I'm not complaining.
But there is a down side to this Ante Meridiem utopia: The Bride and I don't get to see each other except for on the weekends, and groggy fifteen minute intervals if I happen to wake up when she leaves for work, or if she happens to be still conscious when I get home from work.
That's not much of a marriage, and it's not much of an example for The Boy to follow.
So, starting sometime around the New Year, I will be making a massive transition to first shift. The gentleman co-worker that previously held the position retired last month after 37 (!!!) years with the company, and I have been given first rights to it.
I am super stoked. I cannot imagine the positive changes that are in store for me, for us as a family, and for those around us!
It will be a hard transition to make, for various reasons. As it is right now, my Bride and I have worked separate shifts for nearly our entire relationship. We have developed our own ways of doing things, and our own habits, and there will be some friction. But that is to be expected, I think, and with our patience with each other and God's grace to us, we'll figure it out.
Also, first shift begins at 0600 hours. Remember what I said above about 5am? Yeah, that's going to be my new alarm clock setting. Unless there's an early departure, then I would be required to be at the airport at least one hour prior to scheduled departure. The little New Ager in me is frantically scrambling to rearrange my biorhythms in order to establish wellness within the paradigm of my new circadian cycle.
It's going to hurt.
But the hardest thing about this shift change will not be the new schedule. No, the hardest thing about this shift change will be that I will miss out on mornings with Eli.
I treasure waking up to hear him jabbering in his crib. It warms my heart to see his gummy, groggy, sleepy smile when I walk into his room. I love the way he tries to climb into my arms.
I love getting ready to face the world with my son.
It is special to me, and now instead, I will have to face the morning with cold, hard metal machines and unforgiving, inflexible schedules.
There is much to be excited about, but I will miss mornings with Eli.
wingnut
Well, I guess I don't have to be that harsh about it. Let's just say that I am nowhere near a morning person. I don't like being up anything before 9am. And even that, if there's nothing going on, seems a bit early to me. I would much rather stay in bed until around 10 or so, then maybe get up, surf the Internet for a while, feed The Boy, and stay in my pj's until I have to go to work in the afternoon.
I have always preferred the nights instead of the mornings, as far back as I can remember. When I was a kid, my parents would send me to bed, and I would just stay up and play with Legos or my GI Joes (or both) until I fell asleep. There are a few times I remember waking up the next morning next to my bed, with Lego pieces stuck to my face.
I never wanted to go to bed.
In college and after, if I ever saw 5am, it was usually from the other side. As in, "Holy cow, it's 5am! I really need to stop drinking coffee and go home!"
For the past ten months, I have been able to hang out and watch movies and generally have wonderfully relaxing mornings with The Boy. It's been awesome! Sure, I have to complete my share of the chores, but chasing around a crawling (and now walking) baby made things interesting and fun. Plus, I've been able to watch cartoons all the time, and have excuses to crawl around and play with toys too.
It helps that The Boy is not much of a morning person either. We would both prefer to sit on the couch for a while before we get moving around. I don't quite know if he was simply wired that way from the start, or if I trained him that way. Either way, I'm not complaining.
But there is a down side to this Ante Meridiem utopia: The Bride and I don't get to see each other except for on the weekends, and groggy fifteen minute intervals if I happen to wake up when she leaves for work, or if she happens to be still conscious when I get home from work.
That's not much of a marriage, and it's not much of an example for The Boy to follow.
So, starting sometime around the New Year, I will be making a massive transition to first shift. The gentleman co-worker that previously held the position retired last month after 37 (!!!) years with the company, and I have been given first rights to it.
I am super stoked. I cannot imagine the positive changes that are in store for me, for us as a family, and for those around us!
It will be a hard transition to make, for various reasons. As it is right now, my Bride and I have worked separate shifts for nearly our entire relationship. We have developed our own ways of doing things, and our own habits, and there will be some friction. But that is to be expected, I think, and with our patience with each other and God's grace to us, we'll figure it out.
Also, first shift begins at 0600 hours. Remember what I said above about 5am? Yeah, that's going to be my new alarm clock setting. Unless there's an early departure, then I would be required to be at the airport at least one hour prior to scheduled departure. The little New Ager in me is frantically scrambling to rearrange my biorhythms in order to establish wellness within the paradigm of my new circadian cycle.
It's going to hurt.
But the hardest thing about this shift change will not be the new schedule. No, the hardest thing about this shift change will be that I will miss out on mornings with Eli.
I treasure waking up to hear him jabbering in his crib. It warms my heart to see his gummy, groggy, sleepy smile when I walk into his room. I love the way he tries to climb into my arms.
I love getting ready to face the world with my son.
It is special to me, and now instead, I will have to face the morning with cold, hard metal machines and unforgiving, inflexible schedules.
There is much to be excited about, but I will miss mornings with Eli.
wingnut
04 June 2008
Baby stuff
Shan and I talk about raising kids all the time. I think it's some new language that you learn only when you begin to replace yourself on this earth.
You see, when couples don't have children in the plans yet, they naively assume that they've got it all figured out. It will be a breeze, they tell themselves. All my friends with kids have shown me what I'm not going to do. They have made the mistakes for me, so I'm all set. Woe to you, you who speak from ignorance!
When babies do enter the plans, the conversations change. It starts all innocent, like, "Baby, when our kid gets here, do you think....".
You then have about eight months to figure out exactly how you're going to raise your offspring, what college your offspring will get mad at you for not paying tuition at, how best to potty train the offspring, how and when to discipline offspring, how other parents aren't raising their offspring correctly, and so on.
Once those eight months are over, you will have a detailed program, often running twenty to thirty pages long, single-spaced, containing information and graphs and tables, describing just exactly how you would like your little one brought up. One copy will go on the refrigerator, one copy will go into the fire safe with the homeowners policy and Grandma's pearls, and one copy will be distributed to every daycare provider and babysitter within a 100-mile radius.
After that, the little youngster arrives.
When you get home from the hospital, you will throw out the list, and start from scratch. Which is why, from then on, you and your spouse end up having all these relatively metaphysical conversations about how you will raise your child, while you are, in fact, raising your child.
You begin to almost wish that you lived farther away from everything, since the car ride to and from wherever is one of the best places to talk about the family, while the family itself sleeps contentedly in the back seat. Or plays with his rattle and drools everywhere.
It was one of those rides where Shan and I compiled a list of Five Essential Tools for every parent. Because we have a whopping four and a half months seniority on anyone still pregnant, we feel grossly overqualified to give out this list. This list is in no particular order, so just do yourself a favor and go out and buy all these items. You will need them.
1) A Boppy. These things are awesome. When mommy is nursing, they can prevent sore backs and arms. When baby is bigger, they can be a bed. Simply place on any soft area, cover with blankets, and presto! Baby insta-bed. We used ours when Eli was sick, to elevate his head so he could breathe better. We still use it sometimes, if he's down for a nap.
2) A travel system. Shan didn't include this one in her list, because she thought it was common sense. A car seat, with a detachable base, that hooks firmly into a stroller that can also be used without the carseat when baby is bigger: you really don't need anything else for babies on the go.
3) Receiving blankets. As many as you can afford. When baby is little itty bitty, they work great for wrapping him up like a burrito. They layer well. Since burp cloths apparently are not made bigger than a sheet of paper anymore, we use our receiving blankets instead. Eli has a tendency to hurl his half-digested formula a fair distance, in fairly large quantities, so the extra coverage is essential.
4) A jumper. When he's older, baby will love to jump up and down and play with the lights and toys. For times when baby wants to walk around, and mommy and daddy can't right now. He'll probably get so excited about his jumper that he'll barf every time he's in it. Eli does.
5) A bouncy seat. Serves the same purpose as a jumper, but before baby can hold himself up halfway decent. Eli's best friend for months one, two and three was Flizzard, a red genetically modified half frog, half lizard that hung out with him on his bouncy seat. Until they apparently got into a fight, and Eli requested that he be put in his jumper.
So there you are. Five Essential Tools for baby. There are other, probably more obvious things out there, but why cover those? You'll get those anyway, because that's what everyone buys babies and new parents. For example: we have enough baby shampoo to last Eli until he's got kids of his own. We have pacifiers enough to supply Mars Hill Kids for the next few seasons. We have enough blankets that we probably won't need to heat our house next winter.
But this list is things that you may not get for showers, and things that you will need in the future.
wingnut
You see, when couples don't have children in the plans yet, they naively assume that they've got it all figured out. It will be a breeze, they tell themselves. All my friends with kids have shown me what I'm not going to do. They have made the mistakes for me, so I'm all set. Woe to you, you who speak from ignorance!
When babies do enter the plans, the conversations change. It starts all innocent, like, "Baby, when our kid gets here, do you think....".
You then have about eight months to figure out exactly how you're going to raise your offspring, what college your offspring will get mad at you for not paying tuition at, how best to potty train the offspring, how and when to discipline offspring, how other parents aren't raising their offspring correctly, and so on.
Once those eight months are over, you will have a detailed program, often running twenty to thirty pages long, single-spaced, containing information and graphs and tables, describing just exactly how you would like your little one brought up. One copy will go on the refrigerator, one copy will go into the fire safe with the homeowners policy and Grandma's pearls, and one copy will be distributed to every daycare provider and babysitter within a 100-mile radius.
After that, the little youngster arrives.
When you get home from the hospital, you will throw out the list, and start from scratch. Which is why, from then on, you and your spouse end up having all these relatively metaphysical conversations about how you will raise your child, while you are, in fact, raising your child.
You begin to almost wish that you lived farther away from everything, since the car ride to and from wherever is one of the best places to talk about the family, while the family itself sleeps contentedly in the back seat. Or plays with his rattle and drools everywhere.
It was one of those rides where Shan and I compiled a list of Five Essential Tools for every parent. Because we have a whopping four and a half months seniority on anyone still pregnant, we feel grossly overqualified to give out this list. This list is in no particular order, so just do yourself a favor and go out and buy all these items. You will need them.
1) A Boppy. These things are awesome. When mommy is nursing, they can prevent sore backs and arms. When baby is bigger, they can be a bed. Simply place on any soft area, cover with blankets, and presto! Baby insta-bed. We used ours when Eli was sick, to elevate his head so he could breathe better. We still use it sometimes, if he's down for a nap.
2) A travel system. Shan didn't include this one in her list, because she thought it was common sense. A car seat, with a detachable base, that hooks firmly into a stroller that can also be used without the carseat when baby is bigger: you really don't need anything else for babies on the go.
3) Receiving blankets. As many as you can afford. When baby is little itty bitty, they work great for wrapping him up like a burrito. They layer well. Since burp cloths apparently are not made bigger than a sheet of paper anymore, we use our receiving blankets instead. Eli has a tendency to hurl his half-digested formula a fair distance, in fairly large quantities, so the extra coverage is essential.
4) A jumper. When he's older, baby will love to jump up and down and play with the lights and toys. For times when baby wants to walk around, and mommy and daddy can't right now. He'll probably get so excited about his jumper that he'll barf every time he's in it. Eli does.
5) A bouncy seat. Serves the same purpose as a jumper, but before baby can hold himself up halfway decent. Eli's best friend for months one, two and three was Flizzard, a red genetically modified half frog, half lizard that hung out with him on his bouncy seat. Until they apparently got into a fight, and Eli requested that he be put in his jumper.
So there you are. Five Essential Tools for baby. There are other, probably more obvious things out there, but why cover those? You'll get those anyway, because that's what everyone buys babies and new parents. For example: we have enough baby shampoo to last Eli until he's got kids of his own. We have pacifiers enough to supply Mars Hill Kids for the next few seasons. We have enough blankets that we probably won't need to heat our house next winter.
But this list is things that you may not get for showers, and things that you will need in the future.
wingnut
05 May 2008
Our Covenant with Elijah Jason
May 4, 2008
Mars Hill Bible Church
“For this child I prayed, and the LORD has granted me what asked of him, so now I give him to the LORD.” I Samuel 1:27-28
Our Little Elijah,
We have been waiting, hoping and praying for you for a long time. It is our great joy and honor to have you finally join us. Not a day goes by that we don’t thank God for the little miracle He has given us. As you begin to take little steps, with Mommy’s help, we as a family take a big step. Today we are dedicating you to God. We do not take this covenant lightly. God gave us a very big responsibility when He chose us to be your parents. We promise to demonstrate Christ’s unconditional love to you, and to each other.
We chose to name you Elijah because in Hebrew it means “Yahweh is my God”. After all of the struggles we have been through we knew there was no name more appropriate. God kept his promise with us. God has given you to us to teach you about His promises. We promise to raise you in a home that will teach you to trust God as your leader.
We want so many things for you Elijah. We have struggled writing this because there is a long list of things that we want for you, but this is not about what we want. It is about what God wants for you. God has created you a certain way and we promise to help you discover what you were created to do. We hope that you can learn to love God with all that you are, and we know that everything else will follow.
Elijah, Mommy promises to always love your Daddy. I promise to respect and honor him in my actions, my words and my thoughts. I will try my hardest to demonstrate to you the unconditional love that Christ has for you. My hope for you is that you will always rejoice God in the good times, turn to God in the hard times, listen to God in the silent times, and trust God all of the time. Mommy loves you so much.
Elijah, as your Daddy, I promise to love your Mommy until the day I die and then beyond. Jesus gave us the ultimate example of this love, and I promise to strive towards that example with Mommy, with you and with others. In this way, I promise to show you how to treat your wife. I promise to always take time out to play with you. I promise to help you grow both physically and spiritually. I promise to always look out for you and provide for you. Daddy loves you lots!
We promise to look to the future with hope, and look to the past and learn.
We promise to provide a home for you that is loving and safe, and that honors the Lord.
We promise to love you unconditionally, even when unconditional is hard to do.
We promise to learn from your innocence.
We promise to laugh often and not take life too seriously.
We promise to use Christ as our example in everything that we do.
We love you,
Daddy and Mommy
24 April 2008
Our struggle
Right now, the struggle for my wife and I is more of an intellectual one.
Little Elijah is being dedicated on May 4. We at Mars Hill take this promise very seriously, as we do all promises.
Instead of actual membership, we covenant. I am sure for most people it's probably not much different, but the idea is that we would enter into a sacred agreement with our community, and promise to hold that community close, work towards increasing it, pray for those who lead it, and be a productive member of it.
In that same vein, a child dedication service is just that: a promise to dedicate your child to God, a promise to raise the child in a Christ-like, loving, forgiving home. It is a sacred covenant entered into by the parents, the child, the child's extended family (whether they like it or not!), and God. It is a bit different than a baptism, since we don't use water to commemorate the event, but the intention behind it is exactly the same.
The imagery we use in this service parallels with the Old Testament covenants, specifically the Abrahamic covenant. The Genesis account of this covenant gives us some bloody, brutal imagery to demonstrate the seriousness of this promise, and though we probably won't be cut in half and bled dry if we fail in this covenant, Shan and I are understanding of the possible consequences. In short, we want to take this as serious as God does. And God, well, He's pretty serious about promises.
All this to say that Shan and I are required to write a short passage about this covenant, what it means to us, and what it means to Elijah. Obviously, we want it to actually mean something. We are not simply going to put down empty words on our little paper, to be forgotten as soon as they pass our tongue.
No, we want these words to last. We want these words to be durable, to stand the test of time. We are taking this as serious as our wedding vows.
So here is our struggle: Our paper is still pretty empty. I guess I should actually fess up a bit. Shan has her little personal part of the covenant pretty well done. We have some vague ideas about what we want to say together, but nothing more. Every time I sit to write something, I don't know where to start, or to end.
Monday night we had a teaching class about the service, what will happen, how it will go, all that stuff. After the class, we went home and began to think about what we were going to write. We finally went to bed around 2 am, with not much written down. Shan remarked that it shouldn't be that hard to write this. "If we really felt this way," she said, "then wouldn't the words just come to us? Do we really mean this if we have to think about what to write?"
"Yes," I said. "That's part of the creative process sometimes. It doesn't always just come to you. Sometimes, you have to work at it."
So I'm still working at it.
wingnut
Little Elijah is being dedicated on May 4. We at Mars Hill take this promise very seriously, as we do all promises.
Instead of actual membership, we covenant. I am sure for most people it's probably not much different, but the idea is that we would enter into a sacred agreement with our community, and promise to hold that community close, work towards increasing it, pray for those who lead it, and be a productive member of it.
In that same vein, a child dedication service is just that: a promise to dedicate your child to God, a promise to raise the child in a Christ-like, loving, forgiving home. It is a sacred covenant entered into by the parents, the child, the child's extended family (whether they like it or not!), and God. It is a bit different than a baptism, since we don't use water to commemorate the event, but the intention behind it is exactly the same.
The imagery we use in this service parallels with the Old Testament covenants, specifically the Abrahamic covenant. The Genesis account of this covenant gives us some bloody, brutal imagery to demonstrate the seriousness of this promise, and though we probably won't be cut in half and bled dry if we fail in this covenant, Shan and I are understanding of the possible consequences. In short, we want to take this as serious as God does. And God, well, He's pretty serious about promises.
All this to say that Shan and I are required to write a short passage about this covenant, what it means to us, and what it means to Elijah. Obviously, we want it to actually mean something. We are not simply going to put down empty words on our little paper, to be forgotten as soon as they pass our tongue.
No, we want these words to last. We want these words to be durable, to stand the test of time. We are taking this as serious as our wedding vows.
So here is our struggle: Our paper is still pretty empty. I guess I should actually fess up a bit. Shan has her little personal part of the covenant pretty well done. We have some vague ideas about what we want to say together, but nothing more. Every time I sit to write something, I don't know where to start, or to end.
Monday night we had a teaching class about the service, what will happen, how it will go, all that stuff. After the class, we went home and began to think about what we were going to write. We finally went to bed around 2 am, with not much written down. Shan remarked that it shouldn't be that hard to write this. "If we really felt this way," she said, "then wouldn't the words just come to us? Do we really mean this if we have to think about what to write?"
"Yes," I said. "That's part of the creative process sometimes. It doesn't always just come to you. Sometimes, you have to work at it."
So I'm still working at it.
wingnut
01 April 2008
Thankful......
Well, this is Shannon, not Jason. I decided I wanted to post something, so here we go.
As my maternity leave is coming to an end I have been thinking a lot about my time at home and the people I have been spending it with.
Jason and I have worked opposite shifts since May of 2002, and it has been very hard and quite the strain on our relationship at times. This was the first time I have been able to be with him for longer then a week since before we were married!
I have really enjoyed that time with him, and also with our son, Elijah. I have seen a whole new side of him that made me fall in love with him all over again. I knew he would be great with kids, but he is better then I even could have hoped for. We totally share responsibility. He wakes up for middle of the night feedings just as often as I do (unless Eli sleeps through most of the night like he has been). He changes the diapers if needed. He tries to spend as much time with Elijah is the mornings before he goes to work as he can. He is a great dad and Elijah is just as lucky to have him, as he is to have Elijah.
I am very Thankful for this time I have been able to have with both of the boys in my life. It is going to be so hard to go back and miss all of this. I am kind of bummed that I have to, but, like Jason sharing all the responsibility with Elijah, I feel we should also share the responsibility of working. We have always been a team in everything we have done, so why should this be any different. We will find a way to make this new adjustment work. I know it is going to be very hard, but for the first time in a long time I am more positive about it. I don't feel we take any time together, or as a family, for granted and I know a lot of people can't say that.
I am Thankful for this time we have been able to have as a Family, and I am Thankful that God has placed these two boys in my life. Your life is supposed to be crazier when you start a family, but I feel more grounded now then I ever have because of the two of them!
-Mommy
24 March 2008
Easter Questions
It was an Easter weekend to remember.
It was Elijah's first. Since he belongs to both families, on Saturday we spent the afternoon and evening celebrating at Shan's parents, with the traditional Saturday Hamburger. Sunday was spent with my folks, trying to keep my nephews from squishing their new cousin in their excitement. They just can't wait for the day when he can hold his own against them. Eli took his first Easter in stride, sleeping on Grandpas and Grandmas, spitting up on aunts, and all over his first Easter outfit. Grand traditions indeed!
Easter is supposed to be a time of celebration, of springing into new life. Interesting how the ancient pagan religions all celebrated Easter without knowing why. The cold tomb of winter has been opened, and the warmth of Spring has resurrected all it touches: new grass to mow, new flowers to sprout, new baby doves to hatch.
This celebration of New Life is preceded by Lent, a time to contemplate life, to contemplate death, and to contemplate what that means in our life. To seek direction, to seek peace, to seek the Resurrection.
With an infant son at home, there is not much time to contemplate anything. Not much spare time to seek direction or peace. Not much time to look for a Resurrection.
We kinda have to do it all at once. We concentrate it, into two or three hour periods while there is a nap happening.
And so it happened, Sunday evening, from about 9:00 or so until we went to bed, that my wife and I celebrated Lent, Good Friday, Holy Saturday, and Easter Sunday.
Our celebration did not follow the normal pattern. We began by celebrating Good Friday: Do we really have to do this? Is there no other way? This is going to be awful! This is not worth it.
As the sun set on our lament, we began our celebration of Saturday. Now what? We asked. It happened. We are in this situation now. What do we do? Our lives have changed forever. Do we like the change? Can we deal with the change? How do we deal with the change? The despair of Friday gave way to the limbo of Saturday: Do we receive the gift He has given us by allowing everyone else to raise him while we work? Is that right? Is that a way to be thankful? Can we still be good parents and be gone all day? Can we be the parents Elijah was meant to have if we both are out of the house full time? Can we still give our children our best love and care when we're both tired? Do we stay here and look to the day when we can pay off our mortgage and not be forced to work like we do? Or do we plunge headlong into absurdity, walking away from our American Dream for something more affordable?
The darkness of our limbo is stifling. We cannot see anything. No clear path, no stunning example is there for us to examine. Only the darkness.
But then, as the last vestige of hope fails, there is a light. A sliver, a tiny shaft pierces the blackness of our hearts. The stone is rolling away! Our hope reawakens, strong and bold. We reach for it, not daring to believe it will support us, yet not daring to fully abandon it. Daylight floods our tomb as we continue to reach for the hope of God.
The stone is fully away now, and we blink as we step out into the brilliant, dazzling daylight. We still cannot see the path in front of us. We do not know where it will lead, what will happen. But we do know this: Our God works for the redemption and resurrection of all His Creation. That is our hope.
Because Easter Sunday is about hope. The Resurrection is about hope.
Things will get better.
wingnut
It was Elijah's first. Since he belongs to both families, on Saturday we spent the afternoon and evening celebrating at Shan's parents, with the traditional Saturday Hamburger. Sunday was spent with my folks, trying to keep my nephews from squishing their new cousin in their excitement. They just can't wait for the day when he can hold his own against them. Eli took his first Easter in stride, sleeping on Grandpas and Grandmas, spitting up on aunts, and all over his first Easter outfit. Grand traditions indeed!
Easter is supposed to be a time of celebration, of springing into new life. Interesting how the ancient pagan religions all celebrated Easter without knowing why. The cold tomb of winter has been opened, and the warmth of Spring has resurrected all it touches: new grass to mow, new flowers to sprout, new baby doves to hatch.
This celebration of New Life is preceded by Lent, a time to contemplate life, to contemplate death, and to contemplate what that means in our life. To seek direction, to seek peace, to seek the Resurrection.
With an infant son at home, there is not much time to contemplate anything. Not much spare time to seek direction or peace. Not much time to look for a Resurrection.
We kinda have to do it all at once. We concentrate it, into two or three hour periods while there is a nap happening.
And so it happened, Sunday evening, from about 9:00 or so until we went to bed, that my wife and I celebrated Lent, Good Friday, Holy Saturday, and Easter Sunday.
Our celebration did not follow the normal pattern. We began by celebrating Good Friday: Do we really have to do this? Is there no other way? This is going to be awful! This is not worth it.
As the sun set on our lament, we began our celebration of Saturday. Now what? We asked. It happened. We are in this situation now. What do we do? Our lives have changed forever. Do we like the change? Can we deal with the change? How do we deal with the change? The despair of Friday gave way to the limbo of Saturday: Do we receive the gift He has given us by allowing everyone else to raise him while we work? Is that right? Is that a way to be thankful? Can we still be good parents and be gone all day? Can we be the parents Elijah was meant to have if we both are out of the house full time? Can we still give our children our best love and care when we're both tired? Do we stay here and look to the day when we can pay off our mortgage and not be forced to work like we do? Or do we plunge headlong into absurdity, walking away from our American Dream for something more affordable?
The darkness of our limbo is stifling. We cannot see anything. No clear path, no stunning example is there for us to examine. Only the darkness.
But then, as the last vestige of hope fails, there is a light. A sliver, a tiny shaft pierces the blackness of our hearts. The stone is rolling away! Our hope reawakens, strong and bold. We reach for it, not daring to believe it will support us, yet not daring to fully abandon it. Daylight floods our tomb as we continue to reach for the hope of God.
The stone is fully away now, and we blink as we step out into the brilliant, dazzling daylight. We still cannot see the path in front of us. We do not know where it will lead, what will happen. But we do know this: Our God works for the redemption and resurrection of all His Creation. That is our hope.
Because Easter Sunday is about hope. The Resurrection is about hope.
Things will get better.
wingnut
14 March 2008
A Scientific Revelation. Where's our grant money?
My wife has had an epiphany. So profound, so meaningful, so absolutely true, that I would be shirking my God-given gift if I did not share it with you.
Farts are funny.
When my father-in-law belts one out at the dinner table, everyone groans. Except him. And me. I can't help but laugh, because he finds so much joy in sharing these moments with family. You can see it spread across his face as he breaks out into a huge grin. He loves it.
Shan and I last night were lying in bed trying to sleep, or rather, I was trying to sleep, Shan was trying to keep me awake, and we were both listening to Eli make his baby grunting noises and squeaks in his sleep. Shan then brought to my attention the fact that Eli always smiles when he's gassy. This is nothing new in the world of parenting. As a matter of fact, I have said it myself many times in the past two months, "Oh, that's not really a smile. He's just gassy." I have heard my sister say it about her two sons, I have heard my cousin say it about his son. Everyone says it. It's just gas, not a real smile.
Ladies and gentlemen, building on the logic and insight of my wife, the time is right to make our findings known.
My wife and I, after careful consideration and impressive research, have concluded that in fact, those smiles are real smiles.
Infants lack the complex intelligence needed to practice sarcasm, and therefore cannot fake a smile. Since babies do, in fact, smile, and since we know now they cannot fake it, babies smiles are real.
It is also, as stated above, well known that babies smile when gassy. When considered in light of the fact that babies cannot fake a smile, the fact that babies smile when gassy brings to mind an interesting fact, namely that babies must think gassiness is funny.
Now our little Elijah is a smart person, but he has not yet had the opportunity to experience comedy in the same way his parents have, and therefore does not have a fully developed sense of humor as do most adults.
Elijah lacks a developed sense of humor, and yet he smiles when he's gassy. It must mean, therefore, that gassiness is inherently funny. Farts must be an empirically humorous for an infant without a complex intelligence to find them funny.
In other words, it is something instinctive. Something innate within the human creature thinks farts are funny.
Why else would Whoopee Cushions be so popular?
Why else would my father-in-law, a grown man, laugh at something so seemingly juvenile?
Why else would my wife and I be wide awake at 2:30am, waiting breathlessly for the next round from the cradle?
Why else would Elijah smile at me with all he was worth before filling his diaper in my arms this afternoon?
wingnut
Farts are funny.
When my father-in-law belts one out at the dinner table, everyone groans. Except him. And me. I can't help but laugh, because he finds so much joy in sharing these moments with family. You can see it spread across his face as he breaks out into a huge grin. He loves it.
Shan and I last night were lying in bed trying to sleep, or rather, I was trying to sleep, Shan was trying to keep me awake, and we were both listening to Eli make his baby grunting noises and squeaks in his sleep. Shan then brought to my attention the fact that Eli always smiles when he's gassy. This is nothing new in the world of parenting. As a matter of fact, I have said it myself many times in the past two months, "Oh, that's not really a smile. He's just gassy." I have heard my sister say it about her two sons, I have heard my cousin say it about his son. Everyone says it. It's just gas, not a real smile.
Ladies and gentlemen, building on the logic and insight of my wife, the time is right to make our findings known.
My wife and I, after careful consideration and impressive research, have concluded that in fact, those smiles are real smiles.
Infants lack the complex intelligence needed to practice sarcasm, and therefore cannot fake a smile. Since babies do, in fact, smile, and since we know now they cannot fake it, babies smiles are real.
It is also, as stated above, well known that babies smile when gassy. When considered in light of the fact that babies cannot fake a smile, the fact that babies smile when gassy brings to mind an interesting fact, namely that babies must think gassiness is funny.
Now our little Elijah is a smart person, but he has not yet had the opportunity to experience comedy in the same way his parents have, and therefore does not have a fully developed sense of humor as do most adults.
Elijah lacks a developed sense of humor, and yet he smiles when he's gassy. It must mean, therefore, that gassiness is inherently funny. Farts must be an empirically humorous for an infant without a complex intelligence to find them funny.
In other words, it is something instinctive. Something innate within the human creature thinks farts are funny.
Why else would Whoopee Cushions be so popular?
Why else would my father-in-law, a grown man, laugh at something so seemingly juvenile?
Why else would my wife and I be wide awake at 2:30am, waiting breathlessly for the next round from the cradle?
Why else would Elijah smile at me with all he was worth before filling his diaper in my arms this afternoon?
wingnut
29 January 2008
The Baby Update, or: Two Weeks on Four Hours a Night
Little Elijah has made himself right at home in our living room. The Pack'n'Play that we didn't think we would need and that we got second hand through my mother has seen constant use.
His cradle, lovingly crafted by Eli's Grampa Jasperse out of beautiful cherry wood, has seen less-than-desired usage, probably by the simple fact that Eli seems to favor sleeping all day, not leaving Mommy the option of leaving the living room-kitchen-dining room area of the house for any substantial length of time to sleep in her own bed, therefore negating the use of the cradle, which is in our bedroom. And yes, that was a confusing and record-long sentence.
He does use both, however, and we are grateful for both the family heirloom and the "working" toy garage sale hand-me-down.
The tide is beginning to turn to the cradle's favor though, as Eli is getting less and less nocturnal. Not that Shan and I are hanging "Mission Accomplished" banners on our vehicles, but the other night he did actually sleep through the night, with just an hour and a half of fussiness. Poor, exhausted Mommy slept right through it, leaving Daddy with a crying baby and a snoring wife. Daddy has been abundantly blessed with the Virtue of Patience. And a finished basement with a computer and internet access. However, Mommy did wake up in a panic that morning, sure that little Eli would be shriveled up because we did not keep him on his three hour schedule!
Elijah visited the his doctor today for the two week weigh-in and checkup, and it seems that Mommy and Daddy have a healthy growing typical baby boy on their hands. As a matter of fact, the goal for newborn babies growth is an ounce per day. At his first checkup, Elijah weighed in four ounces past his birth weight, at 7lbs, 8oz. At this check up, he weighed 8lbs, 4oz. So, from birth, he has gained exactly one pound in two weeks.
A bit of quick math, 16 ounces over 14 days, means that our son is the over achiever we always knew him to be. Take that, all you average babies! Our baby is bringing your numbers up! Get used to it, lots of teachers grade on a curve. Did I mention he nearly aced his APGAR test? I am certain he'll be crawling within the month, and walking by spring. He also continues to exceed his daily quota of wet and dirty diapers by at least two. By kindergarten, he'll be fluent in English, Hebrew, and ancient Greek, and have a working knowledge of Biblical archaeology.
Today Daddy was also formally baptized into fatherhood, the culmination of nearly a year's worth of study and practice. Today, Daddy had to change clothes along with Elijah after a burp session. Mommy laughed, having been baptized on the first day, and numerous times since then. She even had the audacity to comment on the size of my baptizm, saying it "wasn't bad" and, "he did that to me twice yesterday while you were at work". Sticks and Stones, though. My son and I shared a bonding moment when he baptized me, and nothing anyone can say will take that away from me.
His eyes are continuing to darken, turning from that weird newborn greyish blue to brown, and he is focusing more now. We can tell that Mommy's voice is recognized. We knew it was before, but now we can tell it on his face. If he's a bit fussy, and Mommy says his name, we can watch him calm down! Unfortunately, this is not a superpower that Daddy posesses.
Daddy does posess the diaper changing power. The reason this is a superpower is the fact that Daddy cannot handle the smell of puke, the smell of poopie, and spiders. Daddy has not had to run from the nursery with his hand in front of his mouth holding back barf, and just this simple fact is enough to claim diaper changing as a superpower. That and Daddy didn't flinch during his son's circumcision, so Daddy must also have the superpower of Stay Strong.
Eli, too, must have superpowers. I dare anyone to challenge his kung-fu grip. He is very alert and aware of his surroundings as well, having the other day discovered his cheek and face, and pain all at the same time. We think he tried to pull his eyeball out, but we're not sure. He gave Mommy a mean roundhouse kick to the kidneys the other day, I think because the "restaurant" didn't open soon enough.
He also is practicing to become a male model. He gave us his first "look" this weekend, pouting his lips just like his hero Derek Zoolander. I tried giving him a faux-hawk yesterday, and it looked sweet. It was short, so really I just combed all the hair to the top of his head, but it was cool nonetheless.
If I could sum up this entire post in one sentence, it would be this: My son Elijah is the cutest, smartest, strongest, healthiest baby around.
wingnut
His cradle, lovingly crafted by Eli's Grampa Jasperse out of beautiful cherry wood, has seen less-than-desired usage, probably by the simple fact that Eli seems to favor sleeping all day, not leaving Mommy the option of leaving the living room-kitchen-dining room area of the house for any substantial length of time to sleep in her own bed, therefore negating the use of the cradle, which is in our bedroom. And yes, that was a confusing and record-long sentence.
He does use both, however, and we are grateful for both the family heirloom and the "working" toy garage sale hand-me-down.
The tide is beginning to turn to the cradle's favor though, as Eli is getting less and less nocturnal. Not that Shan and I are hanging "Mission Accomplished" banners on our vehicles, but the other night he did actually sleep through the night, with just an hour and a half of fussiness. Poor, exhausted Mommy slept right through it, leaving Daddy with a crying baby and a snoring wife. Daddy has been abundantly blessed with the Virtue of Patience. And a finished basement with a computer and internet access. However, Mommy did wake up in a panic that morning, sure that little Eli would be shriveled up because we did not keep him on his three hour schedule!
Elijah visited the his doctor today for the two week weigh-in and checkup, and it seems that Mommy and Daddy have a healthy growing typical baby boy on their hands. As a matter of fact, the goal for newborn babies growth is an ounce per day. At his first checkup, Elijah weighed in four ounces past his birth weight, at 7lbs, 8oz. At this check up, he weighed 8lbs, 4oz. So, from birth, he has gained exactly one pound in two weeks.
A bit of quick math, 16 ounces over 14 days, means that our son is the over achiever we always knew him to be. Take that, all you average babies! Our baby is bringing your numbers up! Get used to it, lots of teachers grade on a curve. Did I mention he nearly aced his APGAR test? I am certain he'll be crawling within the month, and walking by spring. He also continues to exceed his daily quota of wet and dirty diapers by at least two. By kindergarten, he'll be fluent in English, Hebrew, and ancient Greek, and have a working knowledge of Biblical archaeology.
Today Daddy was also formally baptized into fatherhood, the culmination of nearly a year's worth of study and practice. Today, Daddy had to change clothes along with Elijah after a burp session. Mommy laughed, having been baptized on the first day, and numerous times since then. She even had the audacity to comment on the size of my baptizm, saying it "wasn't bad" and, "he did that to me twice yesterday while you were at work". Sticks and Stones, though. My son and I shared a bonding moment when he baptized me, and nothing anyone can say will take that away from me.
His eyes are continuing to darken, turning from that weird newborn greyish blue to brown, and he is focusing more now. We can tell that Mommy's voice is recognized. We knew it was before, but now we can tell it on his face. If he's a bit fussy, and Mommy says his name, we can watch him calm down! Unfortunately, this is not a superpower that Daddy posesses.
Daddy does posess the diaper changing power. The reason this is a superpower is the fact that Daddy cannot handle the smell of puke, the smell of poopie, and spiders. Daddy has not had to run from the nursery with his hand in front of his mouth holding back barf, and just this simple fact is enough to claim diaper changing as a superpower. That and Daddy didn't flinch during his son's circumcision, so Daddy must also have the superpower of Stay Strong.
Eli, too, must have superpowers. I dare anyone to challenge his kung-fu grip. He is very alert and aware of his surroundings as well, having the other day discovered his cheek and face, and pain all at the same time. We think he tried to pull his eyeball out, but we're not sure. He gave Mommy a mean roundhouse kick to the kidneys the other day, I think because the "restaurant" didn't open soon enough.
He also is practicing to become a male model. He gave us his first "look" this weekend, pouting his lips just like his hero Derek Zoolander. I tried giving him a faux-hawk yesterday, and it looked sweet. It was short, so really I just combed all the hair to the top of his head, but it was cool nonetheless.
If I could sum up this entire post in one sentence, it would be this: My son Elijah is the cutest, smartest, strongest, healthiest baby around.
wingnut
18 January 2008
A picture is worth a thousand words!
It has been one long, tiring week!
On Monday, Shan's OB decided that we have been pregnant for long enough, and scheduled her to be induced. We went in Monday night, around 8pm, and got all settled in. The nurse on duty started the treatment around 9pm, and got the process rolling.
Throughout the night, Shan began having contractions that grew stronger and stronger, until by 5:30 am Tuesday, she was ready for an epidural. That allowed us to sleep a little bit.
Later that morning, as our nurse was getting ready to go to lunch, she came in to check up on us, and told us that Shan was dilated to a 6. She guessed that usually people dilate at about one centimeter an hour, so that would be about four more hours until we start pushing.
But as she left for lunch, Shan's contractions began to come through the epidural. We called the nurse that was covering for the lunch break, and she came and checked on Shan again. Much to her (and our) surprise, Shan had gone from a 6 to nearly a 10 in a little under an hour.
She called everyone back from lunch, called the doctor in the room, and we started to push! Shan started pushing through the contractions around noon, and Elijah Jason Jasperse came into the room at 201pm, weighing 7lbs, 4oz, and measuring 19 inches long!
There was some concern about his heart rate during the contractions, so the doctor used a vacuum to help ease him out. It looked kinda like a plunger, and they just stuck it on Eli's head, and when Shan was pushing, the doctor was pulling.
Aside from that slight concern, everything went smoothly, indeed smoother than either mommy or daddy expected it to go!
Praise the Lord that after our story, everything was just as normal as a pregnancy could get!
And now on to the pictures!!!
He's just a few minutes old, getting his first clean up by the nurse
Already asleep!?!
The happy brand-new family
Tummy Time!!
I am so adorable!!!
I'm sure y'all will see more!! Actually, if you want to click over to myspace, I have some up here
wingnut
On Monday, Shan's OB decided that we have been pregnant for long enough, and scheduled her to be induced. We went in Monday night, around 8pm, and got all settled in. The nurse on duty started the treatment around 9pm, and got the process rolling.
Throughout the night, Shan began having contractions that grew stronger and stronger, until by 5:30 am Tuesday, she was ready for an epidural. That allowed us to sleep a little bit.
Later that morning, as our nurse was getting ready to go to lunch, she came in to check up on us, and told us that Shan was dilated to a 6. She guessed that usually people dilate at about one centimeter an hour, so that would be about four more hours until we start pushing.
But as she left for lunch, Shan's contractions began to come through the epidural. We called the nurse that was covering for the lunch break, and she came and checked on Shan again. Much to her (and our) surprise, Shan had gone from a 6 to nearly a 10 in a little under an hour.
She called everyone back from lunch, called the doctor in the room, and we started to push! Shan started pushing through the contractions around noon, and Elijah Jason Jasperse came into the room at 201pm, weighing 7lbs, 4oz, and measuring 19 inches long!
There was some concern about his heart rate during the contractions, so the doctor used a vacuum to help ease him out. It looked kinda like a plunger, and they just stuck it on Eli's head, and when Shan was pushing, the doctor was pulling.
Aside from that slight concern, everything went smoothly, indeed smoother than either mommy or daddy expected it to go!
Praise the Lord that after our story, everything was just as normal as a pregnancy could get!
And now on to the pictures!!!
He's just a few minutes old, getting his first clean up by the nurse
Already asleep!?!
The happy brand-new family
Tummy Time!!
I am so adorable!!!I'm sure y'all will see more!! Actually, if you want to click over to myspace, I have some up here
wingnut
13 January 2008
The countdown is short!!
Well, here we go!!!
This is it!
This is the week it all will happen.
So, the updates are more of the same, stoopid hospital visits for weird things, and a healthy baby boy preparing to make his debut in the world.
And a picture of mommy, beautifully pregnant!
I'll be back next week with pictures of Elijah!!
wingnut
This is it!
This is the week it all will happen.
So, the updates are more of the same, stoopid hospital visits for weird things, and a healthy baby boy preparing to make his debut in the world.
And a picture of mommy, beautifully pregnant!
I'll be back next week with pictures of Elijah!!
wingnut
07 December 2007
Dear Diary, Today I blahblahblahblah.....plus a pregnancy update!
First, the update: Normal.
Shan's doctor says everything is textbook. I really wish he would give us a copy of this textbook, it would have been handy to be reading it these past few months. Maybe prepare us a little bit. This is imminent, and the weight of that is starting to rest firmly on Shan and I's shoulders. Not that it's a bad thing, don't get me wrong. We are both super-psyched for this to happen, for this new chapter in our lives. We really do thank God for the opportunity to experience this miracle!
But the number to over there to your right is a lot smaller now than it was(myspace and xanga, click here). As in a month and a half. As in we could go at any time. As in, I really should be packing a bag for the hospital instead of typing this. But here I sit...
I usually don't go for these "Dear diary" types of posts. Usually, my days are not thought-provoking enough for me to think that someone might actually be interested in reading about them. Now that I'm reading that sentence, I'm wondering if that's a good thing or not...
Anyway, today was a day about running in to old acquaintances. This morning, I had to pick up the Blazer from the shop. The shop was right down the road from a coffee shop that was started by an acquaintance of mine, Martin (Mocha & Music. Go there. Buy coffee. Listen to live music). I really didn't think he would be there, but he was, so I was able to catch up with him a little bit. I hadn't seen him in a long while, so it was nice to catch up. I could have stayed all morning, but I was on my way to do some Christmas shopping for my bride. By the way, the coffee there is just as good, if not better, than my beloved Starbucks.
At Barnes & Noble, shopping for my bride, who doesn't read, I ran into a former co-worker of mine at Complete Music, Tom. Tom is a pastor, and so it was fun to finally have someone in the office at Complete that approached life from a similar world view as mine. He only worked there a short time, but we would talk, and we would answer questions and debate the other DJs after our shows. Tom also was launching a youth ministry with some friends of his, and it was going very well.
As he got busier with that, though, he had to stop DJing, so I kinda lost track of him. The next time I ran in to him was at Church, and he looked like he had slept about eight seconds in the last year. He had lost everything. He had been pouring his heart and soul into the youth ministry and his church, and everything was crumbling right in front of him. His wife apparently had cheated on him, and was now leaving. On the way out, she had gotten the ear of a few influential members of their congregation, and had told them her side of the story, and in the space of about a week and a half, his wife was gone, his church had booted him, and his best friends had decided that maybe he wasn't a healthy influence for the youth ministry.
Today, I was glad to see him doing better. Not all the way, obviously, but better than the last time. I mean, how can you fully recover from your whole life being destroyed like that? We talked a little bit about me, and how things were going, but I didn't want to talk much about it. I figured that was probably one of the last things he wanted to hear. Mostly, we talked about him. Or he talked about him. I listened.
I really had to get these gifts bought, and I really had to get home and fix lunch, and go see my bride, and get to work on time. But I sat and listened. Not because I wanted to, mind you, but because I had to. I mean I did want to stay, but that's not really why I stayed. Know why I stayed? Because he needed to be in church.
Matthew 18:20.
That's my day. Hope yours are filled with the same random coolness!
wingnut
Shan's doctor says everything is textbook. I really wish he would give us a copy of this textbook, it would have been handy to be reading it these past few months. Maybe prepare us a little bit. This is imminent, and the weight of that is starting to rest firmly on Shan and I's shoulders. Not that it's a bad thing, don't get me wrong. We are both super-psyched for this to happen, for this new chapter in our lives. We really do thank God for the opportunity to experience this miracle!
But the number to over there to your right is a lot smaller now than it was(myspace and xanga, click here). As in a month and a half. As in we could go at any time. As in, I really should be packing a bag for the hospital instead of typing this. But here I sit...
I usually don't go for these "Dear diary" types of posts. Usually, my days are not thought-provoking enough for me to think that someone might actually be interested in reading about them. Now that I'm reading that sentence, I'm wondering if that's a good thing or not...
Anyway, today was a day about running in to old acquaintances. This morning, I had to pick up the Blazer from the shop. The shop was right down the road from a coffee shop that was started by an acquaintance of mine, Martin (Mocha & Music. Go there. Buy coffee. Listen to live music). I really didn't think he would be there, but he was, so I was able to catch up with him a little bit. I hadn't seen him in a long while, so it was nice to catch up. I could have stayed all morning, but I was on my way to do some Christmas shopping for my bride. By the way, the coffee there is just as good, if not better, than my beloved Starbucks.
At Barnes & Noble, shopping for my bride, who doesn't read, I ran into a former co-worker of mine at Complete Music, Tom. Tom is a pastor, and so it was fun to finally have someone in the office at Complete that approached life from a similar world view as mine. He only worked there a short time, but we would talk, and we would answer questions and debate the other DJs after our shows. Tom also was launching a youth ministry with some friends of his, and it was going very well.
As he got busier with that, though, he had to stop DJing, so I kinda lost track of him. The next time I ran in to him was at Church, and he looked like he had slept about eight seconds in the last year. He had lost everything. He had been pouring his heart and soul into the youth ministry and his church, and everything was crumbling right in front of him. His wife apparently had cheated on him, and was now leaving. On the way out, she had gotten the ear of a few influential members of their congregation, and had told them her side of the story, and in the space of about a week and a half, his wife was gone, his church had booted him, and his best friends had decided that maybe he wasn't a healthy influence for the youth ministry.
Today, I was glad to see him doing better. Not all the way, obviously, but better than the last time. I mean, how can you fully recover from your whole life being destroyed like that? We talked a little bit about me, and how things were going, but I didn't want to talk much about it. I figured that was probably one of the last things he wanted to hear. Mostly, we talked about him. Or he talked about him. I listened.
I really had to get these gifts bought, and I really had to get home and fix lunch, and go see my bride, and get to work on time. But I sat and listened. Not because I wanted to, mind you, but because I had to. I mean I did want to stay, but that's not really why I stayed. Know why I stayed? Because he needed to be in church.
Matthew 18:20.
That's my day. Hope yours are filled with the same random coolness!
wingnut
01 November 2007
My Wife
Where should I begin, when talking about a person that has become my whole reason for living? A person that has become so important to me, that I sometimes do not know where I end and she begins?
Perhaps I should begin almost a decade ago. Well, I guess not quite. Closer to eight years ago.
I hadn't been putting forth the effort required for college, and decided that perhaps I should focus on getting out of debt. By that, I really mean that I just wanted to have fun. I didn't want to go to class, I just wanted to hang with my friends, drink coffee and smoke cigarettes all night long.
I spent entirely too much time doing that, so much so that my friends and I could run the local Steak n Shake. Seriously. Enough of us worked there, and those that didn't were allowed into the back room anyway. We would always get our own drinks and malts. Sometimes, we even rang up the normal customers. It was almost like a mafia. But without the whole kneecapping thing, and the racketeering.
I was living free and easy, not caring about tomorrow, or even later today. I still lived at home, so I had all sorts of disposable income. I mostly spent it on smokes and food. And tuition for classes that I tried to concentrate on.
One of the people who hung out at Steak n Shake was this girl who talked to me sometimes. She thought I was cute, but also thought that I was a player, and wasn't interested in me.
But one night, she sat and talked to me. She told me that she wasn't going to be all crazy over me like all the other girls were. She made it clear that I wasn't all that. I told her she was right.
We talked some more. We mostly talked about the relationships we had both gotten out of recently. Her boyfriend of a long time was waffling back and forth, would say he wanted her, then decide that he wanted another girl, and then he cheated on her, then wanted her back, it was really dumb. I had just had my heart torn all to pieces by a little pixie punk rocker from Wisconsin, so we had something in common. We would sit and smoke and talk about how we didn't want a relationship, and somehow, we fell into one.
I remember our first kiss. It was outside at Steak n Shake, appropriately enough, and she was leaving for the night. I figured I would too, so I walked her to her car. She said goodnight, and just that quick, kissed me on the lips. I didn't have time to react, so I just said something stupid like, "Oh...okay goodnight..".
Shan doesn't think this was our first kiss. She doesn't count it, because it was just a peck. Which it was, honestly. But I was hooked. According to her, our first kiss was after that, at her apartment.
Somehow or other, we continued in the relationship that was not a relationship, except to everyone else. She told me that she didn't want to date me, but she didn't want me to date anyone else either. That sounded about right to me too, so I said okay.
I knew something changed when I went away for spring break. I called her from Florida, and she told me she loved me. I said I loved her back.
One night, we were driving to East Town to catch a concert by a Calvin Band that my friend Chris liked. On the way there, there was an accident. A van went off the road and rolled over a bunch of times. So I stopped to help.
Shan watched me run down the shoulder of the highway, combat boots wrecking my feet, and wallet chains swinging all over the place, and decided that any person who would run towards a wrecked car spilling gas all over the place was a person that she should not let go.
One year, during the fireworks downtown on the Fourth of July, Shannon told me that she was going to ask me to marry her. She said it loud enough that people around us heard, and they waited for me to say something. I laughed and said something stupid again, probably about how I couldn't believe those people thought we were serious. I thought she was joking, and she thought she was joking.
The next year at Fourth of July, we were again downtown watching the fireworks. As they ended, I got down on my knees and asked Shannon to be my bride. I was serious. I didn't have a ring though, and Shannon thought I was joking. She told me to get up. I said I was serious. Then my friend told her I was serious.
She then pulled me into her arms, and said, "When I get a ring, you'll get your answer." But the way she said it was nice. She was saying yes, and I knew it.
She picked out her ring that fall, and I got my official answer. We started making wedding plans.
On November 1, 2002, we got married. It was a beautiful fall day. The sun was shining, there were a few colorful leaves still on the trees. The church was beautiful, the same church that my parents got married at, the church my grand parents had been attending since who knows when. It was almost like we were supposed to get married there.
Since then, the past five years have been wonderful. The girl that didn't want to date me now sleeps next to me every night. When we talk now, we look back on the time when we were dating, and we cannot believe so much time has gone by. We have done much together. We quite honestly, do almost everything together. I like to joke sometimes that it seems like we've been married forever. But what I mean is that it is hard sometimes to imagine a time that I was without her.
We have experienced quite a bit in our life together. There have been ups and downs. Two major surgeries, the trials of trying to start a family. Buying a house and making it our home. Discovering church, and what it means to let God in to your life. Discovering what exactly we have left when we are at the end of our rope. Now, as we begin our second five years together, we are about to embark on the lifelong journey of parenthood. I can think of no-one better to share that with than my wife.
Sometimes, I let my regrets get to me. I wish I would have done this or that, or wished that this situation would have come out different. Shannon is the first one to tell me that it doesn't matter what happened in the past. She constantly reminds me that we are always able to look forward with hope. She reminds me that I have the world. No matter what happens, I know that she will be there, telling me that I shouldn't worry so much about life. We are together, and we are closer every day. I cannot express the joy that fills me when I realize that my wife will always be there for me.
Every day, she allows me to be more myself than I ever have been. Last year, on our anniversary, I posted some song lyrics that were profound and meaningful to me. They still are.
The chorus of that song has a line in it where the singer says his woman is the other half of his soul. I feel like that is true. My wife allows me to be more fully the person God has made me. I would not be the person I am today if not for my wife. As I said in the beginning, I do not sometimes know just where I end and she begins.
I love you Shannon.
I can't wait for the next five years.
Jason
Perhaps I should begin almost a decade ago. Well, I guess not quite. Closer to eight years ago.
I hadn't been putting forth the effort required for college, and decided that perhaps I should focus on getting out of debt. By that, I really mean that I just wanted to have fun. I didn't want to go to class, I just wanted to hang with my friends, drink coffee and smoke cigarettes all night long.
I spent entirely too much time doing that, so much so that my friends and I could run the local Steak n Shake. Seriously. Enough of us worked there, and those that didn't were allowed into the back room anyway. We would always get our own drinks and malts. Sometimes, we even rang up the normal customers. It was almost like a mafia. But without the whole kneecapping thing, and the racketeering.
I was living free and easy, not caring about tomorrow, or even later today. I still lived at home, so I had all sorts of disposable income. I mostly spent it on smokes and food. And tuition for classes that I tried to concentrate on.
One of the people who hung out at Steak n Shake was this girl who talked to me sometimes. She thought I was cute, but also thought that I was a player, and wasn't interested in me.
But one night, she sat and talked to me. She told me that she wasn't going to be all crazy over me like all the other girls were. She made it clear that I wasn't all that. I told her she was right.
We talked some more. We mostly talked about the relationships we had both gotten out of recently. Her boyfriend of a long time was waffling back and forth, would say he wanted her, then decide that he wanted another girl, and then he cheated on her, then wanted her back, it was really dumb. I had just had my heart torn all to pieces by a little pixie punk rocker from Wisconsin, so we had something in common. We would sit and smoke and talk about how we didn't want a relationship, and somehow, we fell into one.
I remember our first kiss. It was outside at Steak n Shake, appropriately enough, and she was leaving for the night. I figured I would too, so I walked her to her car. She said goodnight, and just that quick, kissed me on the lips. I didn't have time to react, so I just said something stupid like, "Oh...okay goodnight..".
Shan doesn't think this was our first kiss. She doesn't count it, because it was just a peck. Which it was, honestly. But I was hooked. According to her, our first kiss was after that, at her apartment.
Somehow or other, we continued in the relationship that was not a relationship, except to everyone else. She told me that she didn't want to date me, but she didn't want me to date anyone else either. That sounded about right to me too, so I said okay.
I knew something changed when I went away for spring break. I called her from Florida, and she told me she loved me. I said I loved her back.
One night, we were driving to East Town to catch a concert by a Calvin Band that my friend Chris liked. On the way there, there was an accident. A van went off the road and rolled over a bunch of times. So I stopped to help.
Shan watched me run down the shoulder of the highway, combat boots wrecking my feet, and wallet chains swinging all over the place, and decided that any person who would run towards a wrecked car spilling gas all over the place was a person that she should not let go.
One year, during the fireworks downtown on the Fourth of July, Shannon told me that she was going to ask me to marry her. She said it loud enough that people around us heard, and they waited for me to say something. I laughed and said something stupid again, probably about how I couldn't believe those people thought we were serious. I thought she was joking, and she thought she was joking.
The next year at Fourth of July, we were again downtown watching the fireworks. As they ended, I got down on my knees and asked Shannon to be my bride. I was serious. I didn't have a ring though, and Shannon thought I was joking. She told me to get up. I said I was serious. Then my friend told her I was serious.
She then pulled me into her arms, and said, "When I get a ring, you'll get your answer." But the way she said it was nice. She was saying yes, and I knew it.
She picked out her ring that fall, and I got my official answer. We started making wedding plans.
On November 1, 2002, we got married. It was a beautiful fall day. The sun was shining, there were a few colorful leaves still on the trees. The church was beautiful, the same church that my parents got married at, the church my grand parents had been attending since who knows when. It was almost like we were supposed to get married there.
Since then, the past five years have been wonderful. The girl that didn't want to date me now sleeps next to me every night. When we talk now, we look back on the time when we were dating, and we cannot believe so much time has gone by. We have done much together. We quite honestly, do almost everything together. I like to joke sometimes that it seems like we've been married forever. But what I mean is that it is hard sometimes to imagine a time that I was without her.
We have experienced quite a bit in our life together. There have been ups and downs. Two major surgeries, the trials of trying to start a family. Buying a house and making it our home. Discovering church, and what it means to let God in to your life. Discovering what exactly we have left when we are at the end of our rope. Now, as we begin our second five years together, we are about to embark on the lifelong journey of parenthood. I can think of no-one better to share that with than my wife.
Sometimes, I let my regrets get to me. I wish I would have done this or that, or wished that this situation would have come out different. Shannon is the first one to tell me that it doesn't matter what happened in the past. She constantly reminds me that we are always able to look forward with hope. She reminds me that I have the world. No matter what happens, I know that she will be there, telling me that I shouldn't worry so much about life. We are together, and we are closer every day. I cannot express the joy that fills me when I realize that my wife will always be there for me.
Every day, she allows me to be more myself than I ever have been. Last year, on our anniversary, I posted some song lyrics that were profound and meaningful to me. They still are.
The chorus of that song has a line in it where the singer says his woman is the other half of his soul. I feel like that is true. My wife allows me to be more fully the person God has made me. I would not be the person I am today if not for my wife. As I said in the beginning, I do not sometimes know just where I end and she begins.
I love you Shannon.
I can't wait for the next five years.
Jason
29 October 2007
You and Me and baby make three
I made a new signature for our email account. I thought it was cute, and I also thought it was a neat way for me to spread the word about our blog.
Shan takes issue with the fact that I call it "our" blog. I admit, I use it less for updates on what is happening in our family, and more for what arcane ramblings cross my mind when I'm all alone at night at the airport.
So I thought I would give an update.
Everything is still normal.
As I type this, we are well into the third trimester. Baby Eli is probably somewhere around two pounds or so, and well on his way to the outside world. He has shifted into more of a head-down position, and his movements are now able to be felt quite a bit.
We were concerned last week, because Shannon had been sick the week before, and started to have cramping and pain. We discovered Braxton-Hicks Syndrome. Well, okay, we didn't discover it. We learned about it. Apparently, Braxton-Hicks is fairly common, and basically amounts to "practice" contractions, all the muscles down there are preparing themselves for the real labor. It hurts a lot, keeping Shan up at night. Drinking lots of water eases the cramps somewhat, but with all the drinking, Shan is up all night back and forth to the bathroom.
She takes it mostly all in stride. She doesn't want to complain, or sound ungrateful for this-and I don't think she sounds like she's complaining at all-but it does hurt, and it does suck that she's up all night and so tired.
So she does what she can, and I try to pick up the slack. Mostly, I think I just slack though....
We have been saying for the past month that we just want to meet him. We want to introduce him to our family and friends, and we want to show him his new house, and his new room, and his toy room. Interesting trivia, his toy room is bigger than my bedroom was growing up! I would have killed for a toy room like that growing up!
We spent this past weekend organizing and cutting tags off. We have had two showers so far, and all that stuff had to go somewhere. I guess the pile in the middle of the living room wasn't good enough.
We have so much stuff, it's ridiculous! So many clothes, so much baby feeding tools, blankets, bibs, pipes, toys, books, already some food, diapers, a cradle, a crib, a rocking chair with footstool, a bouncer, a swing, a travel system with car seat...and we still have one more shower to go.
This is becoming real! As I write this, there is 78 days left on my little countdown, which is about two and a half months, I guess. It does not seem like that. It seems like we're still in the planning stages, as if we have most of the pregnancy to go yet. Like we're still talking about what we're going to name him, or what color we're going to paint the toy room.
The toy room is painted. His name is Elijah.
It's starting to sink in, in a deeper level for me at least, that I am going to be a daddy. My wife and I are going to be parents. I twitch a little bit inside when I hear that. In a month and a half I will be thirty years old, a milestone in itself. But I do not feel old enough, or mature enough to raise a child. And here it is, only about two months away!
I think sometimes that I was more ready when we first found out we were pregnant.
Then again, it seemed like such a long time to plan and get everything situated. We also had some concerns in the beginning, so that made us not want to think about the future in terms of "when the baby is here", or "after we have the baby". It was more just praying that we would have the strength to carry on just one more day. And then, day after day, finding that strength somewhere.
But now those prayers are answered. The strength that we needed to steel ourselves for bad news turned into the strength we need to raise up a human being in our likeness.
Yes, I used that phrase.
I want to be that serious about my role here. I want it to be clear that this is a God-given mandate, a God-given responsibility. This is my purpose in life. Shan and I have talked like that since before we were married, that when you have children, it's not about you anymore, it's about your kids.
So now it's real. And I am terrified. My friend Jeff says I'm going to be fine. Deep down, I know I will too.
But I'm still terrified.
wingnut
Shan takes issue with the fact that I call it "our" blog. I admit, I use it less for updates on what is happening in our family, and more for what arcane ramblings cross my mind when I'm all alone at night at the airport.
So I thought I would give an update.
Everything is still normal.
As I type this, we are well into the third trimester. Baby Eli is probably somewhere around two pounds or so, and well on his way to the outside world. He has shifted into more of a head-down position, and his movements are now able to be felt quite a bit.
We were concerned last week, because Shannon had been sick the week before, and started to have cramping and pain. We discovered Braxton-Hicks Syndrome. Well, okay, we didn't discover it. We learned about it. Apparently, Braxton-Hicks is fairly common, and basically amounts to "practice" contractions, all the muscles down there are preparing themselves for the real labor. It hurts a lot, keeping Shan up at night. Drinking lots of water eases the cramps somewhat, but with all the drinking, Shan is up all night back and forth to the bathroom.
She takes it mostly all in stride. She doesn't want to complain, or sound ungrateful for this-and I don't think she sounds like she's complaining at all-but it does hurt, and it does suck that she's up all night and so tired.
So she does what she can, and I try to pick up the slack. Mostly, I think I just slack though....
We have been saying for the past month that we just want to meet him. We want to introduce him to our family and friends, and we want to show him his new house, and his new room, and his toy room. Interesting trivia, his toy room is bigger than my bedroom was growing up! I would have killed for a toy room like that growing up!
We spent this past weekend organizing and cutting tags off. We have had two showers so far, and all that stuff had to go somewhere. I guess the pile in the middle of the living room wasn't good enough.
We have so much stuff, it's ridiculous! So many clothes, so much baby feeding tools, blankets, bibs, pipes, toys, books, already some food, diapers, a cradle, a crib, a rocking chair with footstool, a bouncer, a swing, a travel system with car seat...and we still have one more shower to go.
This is becoming real! As I write this, there is 78 days left on my little countdown, which is about two and a half months, I guess. It does not seem like that. It seems like we're still in the planning stages, as if we have most of the pregnancy to go yet. Like we're still talking about what we're going to name him, or what color we're going to paint the toy room.
The toy room is painted. His name is Elijah.
It's starting to sink in, in a deeper level for me at least, that I am going to be a daddy. My wife and I are going to be parents. I twitch a little bit inside when I hear that. In a month and a half I will be thirty years old, a milestone in itself. But I do not feel old enough, or mature enough to raise a child. And here it is, only about two months away!
I think sometimes that I was more ready when we first found out we were pregnant.
Then again, it seemed like such a long time to plan and get everything situated. We also had some concerns in the beginning, so that made us not want to think about the future in terms of "when the baby is here", or "after we have the baby". It was more just praying that we would have the strength to carry on just one more day. And then, day after day, finding that strength somewhere.
But now those prayers are answered. The strength that we needed to steel ourselves for bad news turned into the strength we need to raise up a human being in our likeness.
Yes, I used that phrase.
I want to be that serious about my role here. I want it to be clear that this is a God-given mandate, a God-given responsibility. This is my purpose in life. Shan and I have talked like that since before we were married, that when you have children, it's not about you anymore, it's about your kids.
So now it's real. And I am terrified. My friend Jeff says I'm going to be fine. Deep down, I know I will too.
But I'm still terrified.
wingnut
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