fear(less)

Posted on October 11, 2012 by nance

For my 33rd birthday a few months ago I made three goals. Has a nice ring to it, no? Three goals for my 33rd birthday. That’s how I wrote it in my journal. Anyhow, one of them was to take more walks. Not workout walks. Just walks. Strolling. Leisurely cruising. Like my uncle John does. I think he walks nearly every day. Heads out first thing in the morning (at, like, 5:30am – that was not part of my goal) and just meanders about, sometimes for hours. My grandpa, Walt, too. He also took a walk every day, up until the last year of his life. It’s good for my body and my soul, I think. It gives me space to think and I enjoy being outside, looking at people’s gardens, strolling around the pond by our house and just slowing down for a few aminutes. Since my birthday I have taken a grand total of 2 walks. In… three months. I think I need to up the ante a little! I’ll work on that!

Anyway, so I took a walk yesterday. And as I was walking I was thinking about fear and anxiety. I’ve mentioned before that I struggle with anxiety sometimes and have to work hard to focus on what is happening, rather than what might happen. And I’ve been doing well lately. I recently read Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail, a memoir by Cheryl Strayed, who hiked the Pacific Crest Trail alone in the mid 90s. It was a good read and she talked several times about fear. How she had to choose to be unafraid. That hiking alone in such dire conditions was treacherous and intense and she had no choice but to be fearless. It was the only way she could proceed each day on her journey and it seems worth emulating. I can to choose to be fearless and as I was walking yesterday this all kind of solidified in my mind. I was thinking back over the last several years of my life, how I’ve made good strides in this area, how I no longer asume that every person out there is a threat or somehow dangerous, how my default now is to generally trust that most people are good and kind and just trying to get by – you get the idea. It feels good and freeing to feel this way. And I can continue to make that choice, to choose to be unafraid, day in and day out, as fears and uncertainty get heavy upon me. I decided as I was walking that my new anxiety mantra would be “If it’s NOT happening, I’m NOT going to be afraid. If it’s not happening, it’s not worth my mental energy.”

So this all sounds fine and good, right? Look at me all enlightened and what not, right? But get this. As I was walking along thinking all these positive thoughts about how I’m not afraid and that the world is a decent place after all, I decided to walk down a street that’s just a few blocks up from ours. I’ve walked down it once before (on my other walk!) and it has some beautiful yards that I wanted to see again. Halfway down the block I was passing in front of a house and I noticed that the downstairs (street level) lights were on and there was a man standing near the doorway. I looked away and keep walking as I heard him shout “heeeeey!” Being the oh-so-carefree and totally-not-scared person that I am now, I assumed he was talking to someone else inside his house and kept on at my leisurely pace. But then he let out this long, low cat-call whistle. One of these… but longer. And not at all cartoon-like.

And then I heard his screen door slam so I knew he was outside, behind me. At that point, I started feeling uneasy. He whistled again as I quickened my pace and put my hands in my pockets so I could grab hold of my phone. I crossed the street, heart beating faster, and decided to just head toward home and take a different route for my walk. I didn’t hear much for a couple minutes so I thought the coast was clear, and I decided to head over toward the pond. But half a block later, I heard a car slowly inching along a short distance behind me and another long whistle out the window. Now feeling significantly scared, I turned left down our block and headed toward our house at a much faster pace. A couple cars happened to pull out onto our street as I turned so the car was thankfully stuck a couple cars back. The man whistled two more times out his window before I turned up the walk toward our house. Once I was safely near our porch, I turned around and his white van was just sitting there idling as he looked out the window at me. Then he slowly inched forward and drove away.

Now, obviously I’m not hurt and while I was shaken and a little teary when I got inside our house and relayed the incident to Jason, I am completely fine. I know that I live in a relatively safe neighborhood and there are so many horrible things done to women every day around the world and this is not even a blip on that radar. But seriously? What gives? As I’m taking a walk thinking about overcoming anxiety and conquering my fears, this happens? Seems sort of unbelievable, doesn’t it? Jason wasn’t a big fan of the whole situation (duh) and ordered me some pepper spray this morning. And I’m ok with that, I guess, but I was kind of priding myself on NOT being that person anymore, you know? The person who is scared to leave the house and clutches at my mace when I’m downtown or on the light rail. I want to be a confident and capable woman. And I want my kids to see me that way. Not one who is fearful and cowering with her pepper spray waiting for her husband to come to the rescue. But I don’t want to be naive either. It’s all a little baffling. How am I supposed to embrace both?

I also feel angry. Why do I have to worry about this in the first place? Jason doesn’t. Why can’t I take a walk like Walt and my Uncle John, without worrying about some creepy man lurking? Do I need to change my clothes and wear baggy sweats if I want to walk at all? How do I balance all of those things I sorted out in my mind during my walk with my actual experience while walking? What do I do now? I’m not entirely sure. I’m still trying to figure it out. But I have decided that I am still going to choose to be unafraid. I’m still going to take my (admittedly infrequent) walks. And I’m going to carry on as the capable and confident woman that I am. I guess I’ll just have to be sure to carry my pepper spray as well.

parentals and a birthday

Posted on October 3, 2012 by nance

We’ve really been on our game this past week. Our house has been clean, laundry folded, Jason and I have had time to read on occasion while the boys have been happily entertained for hours on end and…oh, wait, that’s because my folks were in town. Man, we really feel like we’ve got things together with my mom and dad around. We got a few extra minutes every morning while my parents read books, studied maps, tossed frisbees, and played games with the boys. We prepared and served meals without stress while the aforementioned things continued. We came back downstairs after putting the boys to bed each night and the dinner mess would be picked up, floors swept and the kitchen spotless. Really made us feel like we’ve got this parenting/life/work/marriage thing down. Everything seemed so smooth and seamless. But then they leave and reality sets in so stinkin’ fast. They have been gone less than 24 hours and there are GoLean Crunch crumbs all over the bathroom floor (mixed with some pee, unfortunately), dinner was a Pinterest disaster last night, Isaiah has been a hot mess as he has fought the good fight against nap and bedtime and I’ve been wondering who we could get to move in downstairs in exchange for potty training Isaiah and cleaning my house (or, at the very least, that bathroom floor).

A look back at their visit, which included Gryffin’s birthday party, among other things…

Isaiah, hanging with his pal, “Do-paw”

He’s got a pretty great “pout” these days

Thankfully, he also has a rad smile. And isn’t his hair awesome?
This was the day before the boys got haircuts. I’m always a little sad to see the curls go.

Still 3… just one more day until his birthday and he was SO excited

I cried when I put him to bed the night before his birthday – gazing at him one last time as a 3-year-old and getting all weepy.

We woke up the next morning to this sunrise and…

This guy! Speaking of haircuts…whoa!

Gryffin’s one request for his birthday was to have “Chocolate Rah-sants” (croissants) and NO banana (or any other fruit). Done!

Checking out a gift from Muti and Dopaw. Doesn’t he look old here?

Birthday hug from Papa

Isaiah chatting with Muti after the birthday breakfast

On the evening of Gryffin’s birthday we were treated to an incredible moonrise and we watched the birth video Jason made 4 years ago (don’t fret, it’s “sanitized” – except for the mildly scary belly bouncing at the beginning – sorry about that)

Next morning Jason and my dad took the boys out for haircuts while my mom and I got things ready for the party.

G-man checking out the party favors

Some of the guests… “Baby” Abe, who is not so much a baby anymore!

Sawyer, Gryffin’s new neighborhood friend

Baby Stella, of course

Lilly, the only big girl, hung by herself most of the time. Poor gal seemed a little out of her element with all the boys running around!

And James – Gryffin’s first-ever friend. They’ve been buddies for over 2 years now.

This was what the party was ALL about for Gryffin. The cupcakes. They needed to be chocolate. And vanilla. And they HAD to have sprinkles!

Isaiah took a few minutes to ~~stop crying and carrying on and demanding to be held~~ warm up to the party and all the guests. Here he is, finally relaxed and showing off his new ‘do

And… the after-party. Dopaw helping with something very important, I’m sure, and somehow both kids are half-naked (as per usual)

Whew. It was quite the week. Being a glass half-empty person means that I usually expect visits from my parents or friends, vacations, outings – anything I’m looking forward to, really – to be totally disastrous. So when we made it through the entire week without any drama (illnesses, injuries, major meltdowns, etc), I was sort of shocked. And elated! Maybe there’s more in that glass after all!

More Surprises

Posted on July 28, 2012 by nance

Well, I’m home from my quick jaunt to Lodi. It was splendid. After a couple weeks of scheming and planning, we managed to pull off quite the surprise for my niece, Hannah. It was her 10th birthday and we wanted to do something extra special for her. She goes to a private school and she’s one of only 6 girls in her class and has struggled to make friends from the get go. She is an incredibly sweet little girl, likes to read more than anything else (my kind of gal!), is imaginative and funny and kind and I truly don’t understand why she hasn’t found a bosom friend yet. But there it is. And as her birthday approached, her tenth (a big deal – double digits), she was increasingly sad about the prospects for a birthday party. So when my sister sort of wistfully asked if there was any chance I’d consider flying down for a surprise, I said yes immediately. You know I like pulling off a good surprise. And it was a great chance to visit the rest of my fam, too.

I flew in on Saturday night and my parents picked me up from the airport. I slept at their house that night and in the morning we drove over to my sister’s house for the big surprise. My mom and I were absolutely giddy with excitement. We arrived at 9:15am, parked out of sight, and creeped up to the house. I brought a big bouquet of flowers (picked from my parents yard – thanks, mom and dad!) and held it in front of my face. When she opened the door, I said “Flower Delivery for Hannah Eby” and waited a couple seconds before lowering the bouquet and revealing myself. I’ll let the video speak for itself. (My nieces call me “Aunt Vicky” btw – long story). It’s more audio than visual but you’ll get the idea.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t8LGLk8coAA&feature=g-upl]

Once the excitement wore off a little, we wasted no time lavishing Booge (Hannah’s nickname) with all sorts of surprises for her big day. My dad and brother-in-law left for a day of fishing and the rest of us (me, my mom, my sister, Hannah and her sisters, Emily [8] & Mary [6]) set out for a “day of the ladies.” Here’s what we did…

First stop: Pete’s coffee for Hannah’s first-ever coffee drink. She picked a vanilla freddo. It had just the slightest hint of coffee flavor and she relished every drop. And about 15 minutes later, that caffeine hit her system with gusto, let me tell ya!
Second stop: Barnes & Noble, where she got to pick out a new book. We consulted and discussed many possible options and she finally settled on a “choose-your-own-adventure” book. Remember those?
Third stop: Old Navy, where my mom gave her a shopping ticket good for “one thing for school, one thing for fun, and one thing to wear when you run.” Hannah recently started running with my sister a few mornings a week and she’s very excited about it. She asked my mom if she could exchange one of her items and get something for her sisters instead. How sweet is that?
Fourth stop: Lunch at the place of her choosing. It took all of 2 seconds for her to decide. Noah’s Bagels. So we schmeared it up for an hour and then headed back to my sister’s house before the…
Fifth stop: After dropping everyone off back at the house, Hannah and I headed out for yet another treat – her first pedicure. She really poured over all the color options and finally chose a very light pink and asked for one of those flower designs they can paint on your big toes. She was very excited about it all but also a little nervous. She hardly spoke while the woman massaged her feet and rubbed her calves. Just sat wide-eyed and staring. Later, though, on the way home, she declared “that felt sooo good, Aunt Vicky!”
Sixth stop: Back to my parents’ house for the big birthday dinner. We had all her favorite foods. Flank steak, artichokes, baked potatoes and french bread. For dessert, my mom put together a candy buffet complete with cellophane bags for the girls to fill up to their heart’s content.
Seventh and final stop: We all put on our PJs and snuggled up for a movie. Hannah picked the first episode of Little House on the Prairie and we re-watched the part where Pa falls out of the tree about 6 times and laughed uproariously every time.

It was such a good day. I’m so happy that I went, so glad we were able to pull off the surprise and completely lavish Booge with love and treats and laughter for her birthday. It’s cool to think that this is one of the first birthdays that she will remember in years to come. I hope she remembers it with as much fondness as I will.

Now I’m home again, settled back in with the boys and Jason and our routine, and this afternoon I got yet another surprise – this one not so happy as the first. My mom contracted hepatitis C 33 years ago, when I was born, because she needed a blood transfusion following a profuse hemorrhage. We had no idea. It has been dormant in her system until this year, when her routine blood work came back with the news of a possible problem with her liver. We were initially told that it was likely no big deal but after a trip to the specialist we’ve discovered that it is a big deal. She has genotype 1 and will have to undergo a year of combination therapy to (hopefully) rid her body of the HCV. It’s a 50/50 chance of recovery. And the treatment sounds a lot like chemo, in terms of it’s intensity. It kills off the virus but kills a whole lot more in the meantime. And since her stroke 8 years ago, she’s on several other medications that might further complicate her treatment. I feel pretty shocked. And pretty downtrodden this afternoon as I take it all in. I have no idea what this next year will look like for her and for all of us or what the final prognosis will be. When we were talking about it a couple weeks ago, before we knew the severity of it, my mom told me that she is not afraid of dying. And in theory, theologically, I guess I’m not either. But I feel pretty scared right now. This isn’t the kind of surprise I relish. And it’s hard to wait – wait for the treatment to start, wait to see how her body responds, how she feels and so forth. For now, I guess I’m going to try to remember my trip home last weekend and all the joy that day brought all of us and give thanks that my mom was able to enjoy it all before this next year fraught with treatment and upheaval begins.

Some photos from my trip…

Right after I walked in the door.

Hannah enjoying her coffee drink

Walking with her mama at Barnes & Noble

Emily (left), Hannah in the hat, and Mary on the right, posing with the manequins at Old Navy.

All 6 of us squeezed into a TINY dressing room at Old Navy.
All of us, except my mom managed to try on some clothes!

The birthday table set for dinner at my mom and dad’s house

My dad slicing Hannah’s favorite bread

Sars and Steve, married 13 years this year

Mary, in her leotard, showing me her gymnastics moves.
We also squeezed in the new American Girl movie about gymnastics while I was there.
Just say gymnastics and I’m all in. This movie was…well, awful, but hey, it had gymnastics!

Emily & Hannah had me do a photo shoot with ALL of their American Girl dolls
so they could have a yearbook for their “classroom” which they have set up in the guest room,
complete with lockers and grade books

And my mama, known to almost all as Muti, also an avid reader,
looking over books with Emily while we waited for Hannah to make her birthday selection.

Birthdays Make Me Sad

Posted on September 25, 2011 by nance

Not my own. Bring it ON for my birthday. But the boys’ birthdays? Those seem to be marked with a touch of melancholy for both Jason and me, amidst all the celebrating and excitement that birthdays inevitably bring. We felt it keenly last April when Isaiah turned one. We grieved a little at his growing up and revisited the conversation (again) of “are we done having kids?” because we couldn’t believe that the year of babyhood had so quickly come to an end. And we’re feeling it now. As our first-born turns 3 this Wednesday. I think their birthdays make us ever-more aware of how quickly time is passing.

Yesterday we threw Gryffin his first official birthday party. We tried to keep it small. Just our community group and a couple families with kids that live near by. It’s the first year that Gryffin has (sort of) understood the concept of a birthday (meaning he knew there would be cake) and it was a lot of fun for me to plan. The 4 older kids played well in the sandbox, the 2 babies were happy to be held by one and all, and the adults had margaritas. We had enough food, good weather, and lots of merriment. Before bed last night, Jason and I agreed happily that it was a success and looked forward to many more years of birthdays for our boys.

But now. Now I’m sitting in my reading chair, watching the rain fall while all three of my fellas nap, the house incredibly silent, and I’m feeling blue. I can’t believe my boy is three. I think there is one moment from yesterday’s party that will be etched in my mind for all time. Gryffin sitting in his little bear chair (finally he sits in it!) waiting for me to bring out the cupcakes so we could sing him happy birthday. He looked at me over his little shoulder, so eager, so excited, so vulnerable and unsure, all at once. I’m not entirely sure why it struck me so. Maybe because it had been such a busy day of preparing food, cleaning and decorating and I kept thinking throughout the day that I wanted to be sure to remember why we were doing all this prep. Why we were having a party. Why we were doing this in the first place. We did it to celebrate Gryffin’s life. To give thanks to God for being faithful to the next generation. To ask God’s face to shine on him as he grows. And to do this with our community. The community that is surrounding him and helping us bring him up. And that moment, with him peering up at me from that silly chair, brought all of those reasons to the forefront of my mind. And I wanted to stop the clock. To hold on to that nano-second for just a little bit longer. To really drink it in. Our boy surrounded by all these people who love him. Shane, whose name was the first besides “Mama” and “Papa” to pass his lips over a year ago (‘Haaaane’). Jordan, who brings him goat cheese because he knows Gryffin likes it so much. Belinda, who washes dishes with him and plays with him tirelessly, discussing things and answering all of his questions with patience and humor. Amy, who comes over every week and cares for him with such kindness and understanding. Kelly, who is always keeping tabs on his likes and dislikes. It just took my breath away.

Hard hats and stickers for the kids

I’m sorta proud of my cupcake toppers

Adrienne magically caught “the moment” on camera

Gryffin spent a significant amount of the party watering “teacher” Amy’s car

Jonas & Gryff collaborating in the sandbox

This is where Isaiah spent most of the party – in the stroller, just in case someone wanted to take him for a walk.

And, of course, one shot of the after-party.

I read once (on a blog, maybe?) that the first 6 years of your child’s life is yours, the parents’. That their story is essentially your story those first years. And then between the ages of 6-8, it starts to shift into their story and they take ownership of it, so to speak. The metaphor isn’t perfect but it makes sense. It’s so strange to think that Gryffin and Isaiah will have virtually no memory of this, –of these crazy, sweet, exhausting, wonderful years. Strange to realize that they really do belong to Jason and me, that we are the witness-bearers, the memory-keepers. Gryffin won’t remember his 3rd birthday party but I will. Jason will. Maybe some of our friends will. So I hope that we will live these years well. That we would remember the feel of Isaiah’s legs, so squishy and smooth, and the sweet-sour smell of Gryffin when he first wakes up (sounds strange but it’s totally his signature scent!). That we would really soak in those incredible moments with their heads resting on our shoulders, doing “hold you on the couch” time and “bomp, bomp boogies” because they are ours as much, if not more, than theirs. And I hope that although they won’t remember these years, these birthdays and milestones, these years that Jason and I will undoubtedly look back on and say “those were some of the best,” that they will know how deeply they are loved, by us and by so many others, and that that love would undergird them so that when the day comes, they can step forward and take hold of their story with confidence, knowing that the first chapters were written well.

Fall 2008

Fall 2009

Fall 2010

Fall 2011

On the Cusp

Posted on August 20, 2011 by nance

It’s definitely happening, folks. My little guy is on the cusp. When it happened with Gryffin I didn’t realize what was going on right in front of me. Didn’t realize the significance of what was happening. But now it’s Isaiah’s turn and I’m very much aware that he’s teetering on the brink. He’s about to leave babyhood behind and wobble his way into the wonderful world of toddler life. It happens so gradually that you don’t really notice at first. It’s like watching a flower open. The changes are so subtle, so delicate, almost impossible to detect. But yet it opens right in front of you and you aren’t even sure when exactly it went from bud to bloom.

I remember someone asking me about Gryffin when he was about 16 months, “how does it feel to not have a baby anymore?” and I just stared at them blankly. The thought had never occurred to me. Not a baby? Of course he was still a baby! But over the next several days it started to dawn on me that he wasn’t. How could this be? When did it happen? My friend was right. I desperately began to think back, trying to remember everything from the past year. And I was shocked at how much I had already forgotten. So now I know how very fickle the human mind is, how quickly a parent forgets all the little details of babyhood as their children grow and change with each passing day. Jason and I immediately began to lament the fact that we were already starting to forget some of the sweet little details of Gryffin’s babyhood. And now Isaiah’s as well.

From the moment we came home from the hospital we have called Isaiah “Baby.” It started with Gryffin, of course. At just 18 months, there was no hope that he could pronounce Isaiah. So it’s been “Baby” since day 1. It still is. But we are so very near the end of this era in his life. My chest tightens just thinking about it. As much as I long for each milestone and cheer on every tottering step he takes, I can’t help but miss my dear “Baby” already. As gradual as the metamorphosis might be, it’s still so very fleeting.

So goodbye to my dozy dinosaur. You slept more than any baby I’ve ever seen in your first few months of life.