Category Archives: Family

Paternity Leave

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Friday night I returned to work after a month off (except for a couple of weird nights where my office was desperate and lured me in). Using a combination of vacation time, scheduled time off, and trades, I was blessed with the chance to spend a huge amount of time at home with my newly expanded family, and we had a great time. When I’m working, I’m asleep for the majority of Brenden’s awake time, so this break gave me a chance to wake him up each morning, play with him at the park and rec center, read with him, and marvel as he grows. Although much of our time was spent caring for one or both boys, the break let me spend some good time with Jenny here and there. Finally, it gave me the chance to see a new little miracle, a brand-new life that is partly me, partly Jenny, and partly the mystery of God’s handiwork.

Being back at work isn’t all bad, though. I like my job and most of my coworkers. I enjoy having a routine and official responsibilities outside my home. To be honest, being at work is easier than staying home with two boys under age 2, especially when one of them is Brenden! When Jenny and I can each take one of them, we get by OK, but when Jenny was napping or out somewhere and I had them both, things could get interesting really fast. Just a few days ago, I was holding Jonathan in one arm, propping up his bottle in place with my chin, and trying to cut up a pizza slice with a fork for Brenden with the other hand. Once the pizza slice ran out and Brenden was still hungry, I threw in the towel and called for backup.

In a nutshell, I had to come back to work to get some rest and to have the time and energy to blog! Sorry for the relative lack of posts, but I’m sure you understand. I am now officially back in business.

Thanks again to all of you who helped us out over the past month, whether through meals, babysitting, visits, gifts, prayers, or well-wishes. We are so thankful to have so many wonderful people in our lives.

A Most Embarrassing Moment

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So, this starts out like all good embarrassing moments. I was on a “date”. I had gotten sports tickets from work several times over the past few months and my roommate finally threatened to kill me if I didn’t at least try to ask some guy out with them instead of taking her along. So I had stared at the phone for 30 minutes, pulled out the phone list from our singles group, and called him up.
He was a friend of a friend in our church singles group – we had hung out a few times in large groups, I had ridden in his car once, and I had listened to him tell his “life story” over dinner with the singles group. So we didn’t know each other that well, but well enough to feel comfortable with each other. Most of my friends would say he was “nice” if you asked them to describe him, and he had mentioned in a conversation previously that he’d never been to the AA Center, so I figured even if he didn’t want to hang out with me, Mavs tickets would be enough of a draw.
The date was going well – he was savvy enough to think to offer to drive and buy us dinner beforehand, and we had talked pretty much the entire time without uncomfortable silences. I didn’t date much, ok, actually ever, so I was trying REALLY hard not to be a dork. Those of you who know me fairly well know that I tend to be a bit of a nerdish klutz, so trying to be “cool” for a date was a lot of work.
Once we got to the game, we both admitted that neither one of us liked basketball. We had great seats but really didn’t know what was going on. But we both agreed that the little glow sticks on a string that they handed us when we walked in were really cool.
As the announcer started revving up the crowd, they turned out the lights, and we all broke out our glow sticks. As we are yelling and swinging them over our heads by the strings, I leaned over to comment how cool it looked. And lost my grip on my glow stick, which then flew out of my hands, David and Goliath style, down about three rows and hit a large man in the back of the head. If I could have climbed underneath those tiny American Airlines Center seats, I would have. I was mortified!
My date, however, did something I wasn’t expecting. Instead of just laughing at me (which he was, because I was, too), he walked down to the man, apologized for hitting him, and asked for my glow stick back. Because he knew I liked it.
Ok, my carefully planned “Operation Jenny Is Actually Cool, Not a Dork” wasn’t going to work. My true self was going to come out wether I wanted it to or not. But maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.
And it wasn’t. That was 8 years ago in December. Seven years ago today, I married that nice guy, who thinks my dorkiness is cute, likes that I’m a bit of a nerd, and loves that I’m not a girly girl. Asking Andy out to a game that neither one of us liked was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.
Thank you, hubs, for the best 7 years of my life. You are the most amazing man of God, and I’m reminded daily of how blessed I am to have you as my husband and father of my children. I can’t wait to see what God has planned for us in the years to come! I love you and am so thankful for you!

Seven Years

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Seven years ago today, Jenny and I got married. That sounds like a really long time, but since I married such a wonderful woman, it doesn’t feel like a long time at all. Happy anniversary, Jenny! I am so thankful to be your husband and the father of your children, and I love you very much.

Aging Parents

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Jenny’s family is wrestling with a difficult situation. Her grandparents’ health has deteriorated so much that the rest of the family isn’t sure they can take care of themselves and live on their own anymore. Unfortunately, her grandparents aren’t ready to admit it yet, and her grandfather’s Alzheimer’s has gotten bad enough that he doesn’t seem to realize there is a problem. The adult children, including Jenny’s parents, are trying to decide what to do. They want to honor their parents and respect their independence, but they worry about their safety. I think they would be great candidates for an assisted living community. There someone could check on them throughout the week and help out where needed, but they could still maintain some independence.

If our parents live long enough, we could be in the same situation someday, as could our boys when we reach the last years of our lives. I haven’t had to think much about it before. In one sense, it’s a beautiful role reversal – the formerly helpless children become the caregivers, and the parents get help in their final time of need. In another sense, it seems like a terrible, awkward tragedy. How do you tell the parents who raised you that they aren’t capable of taking care of themselves, or take the keys away from the people who taught you how to drive?

When I am old, I will try to be realistic about my capabilities, willing to accept their decline and to lean more on others for help when needed. I doubt it will be easy for me, since I crave self-sufficiency so highly, but I don’t want my own stubbornness to put myself or others in danger. I hope that my family will have the courage to tell me the truth and fight for what’s best for me, no matter how much I gripe about it.

Have any of you been through a situation like this? I would love to hear your thoughts if you’re willing to share.

Birth Control Poll and V-Day

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I hope you enjoyed my birth control poll. Thank you for all the responses. We had quite a wide variety, including some surprises. I wish all of you success in your reproductive endeavors, whether you’re trying to create babies or not.

The topic is on my mind these days as the birth of our second son approaches (four weeks from today). Two children seems like a good number to us. We’ll take up exactly two rows on most roller coasters, fit easily into any four-door car, maintain a one-to-one ratio of parents to children, have tons of fun, have time to be heavily involved with both of them, and (we hope) be able to help both boys with cars and college when they get older. Plus, after the difficulties of this pregnancy, we don’t want to go through it again. If we ever change our minds and want to add to our family again, we will adopt instead.

Our family-size decision leads us to another one: permanent birth control. It’s time for me to start thinking about the old snip-snip. I’ve done some research and watched some videos, and the procedure seems to be highly routine and very effective with only minor discomfort. Sitcoms like to joke about how the very idea scares most men, making them feel less adequate somehow. Maybe it’s just the target area for the surgery that makes them squirm. Perhaps I’m weird, (OK, I know I’m weird!) but it doesn’t really bother me. Right now we’re planning on scheduling V-Day for sometime in the spring. Sorry if that’s TMI, but if you’re a regular here, you’re probably used to it by now. =)