today is a sad day.

Gosh, it seems like this is far as I can get right now. I just wanted to let our friends and family know that right now it isn’t God’s will for us to have another baby. We went to our scheduled doctor’s appointment and ultrasound this morning, excited but also in hurry because we three were all running late. We got there only 5 minutes late, and were seen pretty quickly. As we settled into the ultrasound room, excited and trying to catch up with ourselves, it didn’t seem like long before the technician said that it didn’t look good. And right then is when time stopped and tears flowed. Ben was being so good in Dad’s lap and just watching me cry. He’s such a smart little kid, it broke my heart thinking I was subjecting him to these kinds of things. It’s like kids just know when to behave as though he somehow understands that something serious is going on. As he watched me cry he kept saying over and over “Mommy’s sad.” The words of a two year old say it better than any one else can. Not even me. I’m sad. It has been such a long time since I have cried about anything. That’s a hard thing to understand right now, because all it does is make me cry. But it’s the truth right now, and I know it will feel better later.

I’m not going to try and be profound or well spoken in anything I write today, as it is pretty much impossible for me to be right now. But I’m sad. And I just want to be able to inform all of you.

In some ways, I’m not entirely surprised. My first pregnancy was ignorant bliss, having never gone through children and pregnancy. This pregnancy was so much more emotionally charged because I have a little boy whose eyes I look into every day. First pregnancies don’t provide that. And miscarriage was never a thought in my mind, until I had close friends go through it. And I knew there was a pain there that I couldn’t reach without going through it.

Today is different. Today is a sad day.

But I know tomorrow and the following days will be better. We’re sorting through emotions, and already it has started to feel better. And I know it will take time. I learned once from a college student studying the Bible and seminary that there was a much bigger meaning behind the Hebrew word “shalom”. A lot of us know it is translated as “peace”. We all also know how so many meanings get lost in translation. He went on to say that this was one of those words. When Christ wished “shalom” to someone, he was not only saying “peace be with you”, but he was saying “peace be with you – even when peace is not around you”. It’s so easy to feel peace when your “cup hasn’t been bumped” (as one pastor of mine used to say), but to pray for the peace when there is no peace in sight – the kind that some say “passes all understanding”. That to me deepens the “thrown around” word shalom. Please keep us in your prayers. I hope that this finds you all happy and well.

shalom.

bake me a cake as fast as you can.

We are pleased to announce that we will be adding to our family – sometime around the 3 Jan 08! And to answer any questions running through your heads – we are also pleased to say that we WERE, in fact, trying. Or more accurately stated – "not not-trying". And while we got pregnant easily the first time, it seemed even easier this time. Having been off birth control for the second month we discovered that we may be pregnant. The administering of the test happened on a whim. Sunday afternoon was the third day without my "little friend." And for those short couple days, Rob and I had been doing the whole back-and-forth banter that married folk often find themselves doing because we have realized the real reason people get married: TO DRIVE THE OTHER NUTS, RIGHT?! (oh, maybe that's just me.) Anyway, Rob says for the umpteenth time in that brief span of a few days "Maybe you're pregnant". This was a typical response for everything that seemed the slightest bit unusual. I had a *slight* stomach ache. I felt clumsy (which only happens in pregnancy when your center of gravity changes – mine wouldn't be different, as I'm not carrying a *big* baby yet). I felt tired. (Rob says I am always tired). Does anyone else's husband say that to you a lot!?! Finally, I reply, "Wanna bet? I'm taking the test." In my mind, I wasn't convinced that he had any legitimate thoughts of me being pregnant. Our first "attempt" (i.e. Ben) is nothing to base it on, for the mere fact that my birth control wasn't working. And the other reason I wasn't "sold" on it is that since I had stopped taking birth control, I felt like my body was probably still readjusting to being off meds. So I take the test. Positive results vary from test to test. Some say positive results are 2 lines, others say "Pregnant" or "Not pregnant", and for the illiterate, positive results are a + sign accompanied by the default single line. It's the bigger of the two windows that matter. (I am only kidding about the illiterate comment. We know how to read over here.) Rather than go on and on and on, we get a plus sign!

Naturally our reaction varied greatly from the last time we saw a positive pregnancy test, but the neatest thing is that the joy is still there. When we had Ben, that inexplicable joy can't be put into words. So I won't even try. As a result, Ben has the luxury of (at least right now) getting away with things because he just seems extra cute – even when he's naughty – because there is a bun in my oven. Or cake. Or muffins. No, not plural, it's muffin. Knowing that something wonderful is being created makes me fall in love all over again with our Ben. It seems you love your child more and more every day. I am still not even sure how that is possible, especially because he is a master at driving me crazy some days!

So Ben and me... We have been talking a lot about babies. And while he doesn't understand the depth of the fact that we're going to have another baby, he knows there is one in there. He has tried to be helpful and put his sippy cup in my belly button, saying "here, baby – mink" – (mink = drink). He has kissed my tummy and offered my tummy his "menet" (that's "blanket" in Ben speak). And if you know Ben a little bit – his "menet" is his most prized possession. This blanket is with him through thick and thin, and the day it is ever lost will be a dark day. Up until today, I kept thinking that he thinks "brother/sister" is one word, because he always says them together (we told him he was going to have a "brother or a sister"). But today, in the doctor's office, we asked him if he wanted a brother or sister, and he kept saying "brother". While we have had many debates with various people about gender in general, our pest control guy named Stacy (of all names) – says girls are too expensive. But naturally, I would love to have a little girl! A calm one. I also hear that no child is calm, but I beg to differ. Ben is a wild man with the energy stronger than that battery bunny! Don't believe me – come visit our house. What is it with BOYS?! And while Stacy, our bug guy, says girls are expensive, he seems just fine and dandy with using the excuse to defend his boys – "they're boys – that's what they do" (in a macho man voice). It's all the explanation he offers. That's why boys run around ALL day long, that's why his younger boy stands on ant hills, that's why boys fight, etc. Well, we're "just girls". And that's who we are. So what if we cost a little more. We're cute, cuddly, and pretty.

Oh yes, our doctor! Our new OB-Gyn is great. He is a runner, too! I Love meeting those folks! While he is giving me an ultrasound (and *not* the belly kind, which took me by surprise) I am getting the lowdown on his running resume. It's funny and odd, how fast you can get comfortable with someone. He was even the first person Ben would talk to at the doctor's office. He wouldn't talk to any of the front desk employees or the nurses. He was playing the shy game. But the second Dr. Otty made his appearance, Ben was giving him "high fives" and telling him he was 2 and telling him he wants to eat at "Nonals" (Ben speak for the Golden Arches)! We saw the heartbeat and that was so exciting and comforting to see. It's amazing that at six weeks they already have a pulse! They changed my due date by 6 days – it was originally set at 28 Dec 07.

We're very excited to share our news with you and will keep you posted along the way. So far, this pregnancy is similar to my first one, in that, I am pretty symptom free – other than a little tiredness day to day. But as I have mentioned, Rob says I'm always tired. Plus, I am pretty sure Ben makes me tired all by himself!

We hope this finds you all happy and healthy!

where the *wild onion* grows.

As I am still not sure where the red fern is (it's been years since I have read that book), I have learned recently that the wild onion does grow in Mississippi. I think subconsciously I felt like there was a familiar smell in the air. Refreshing for once that it isn't cows – the smell that some people say is money. Well, yes, if you own a cattle ranch, but otherwise it's disgusting. And many times taking Rainey out, I wondered what these little green patches were growing out of the yard. I remember thinking a few times, that they looked a lot like the chives that I started growing, but have since died. Hey - we can't be good at all things. But the parsley is still growing. The other herbs died off, due to me repotting them, and something happened along the way. So I am talking to our neighbor across the gravel, as they have been doing a lot of yard work the last few days. I thought to ask, since it seemed relevant to all the work they had been doing, if they had a vegetable garden. I keep smelling onions I tell her. She informs me that it is indeed wild onions all over the "neighborhood" that I am smelling. And they are! It's crazy! They have very tiny bulbs at the end. I dug a bunch out today. And if I have to hear Rob say one more time in his big "duh" tone, "Jenny – it's the South", I am going to club him! I don't know what the South is like. I have never lived in the south ever. NM is not the South, heck, Texas isn't even the South. I don't care what anyone says. Nothing is like the South except places like MS, AL, GA, KT, TN, and so on. I have been told that FL is not the South, but they are the farthest South, so who exactly is confused here?!

Here are a few of my loves and loves-not-so-much of living in Mississippi.
Love.
Love rocks in our driveway. Or Ben does. But when Ben's happy, Mom's happy. He could play with rocks until the cows come home. Weird.

Love the fact that I can tell people how to get to our house – using both Hose "R" Down and Ole Country Store in one sentence. Still cracks me up.

Love crocheting and working in the home – I have been enjoying our new home and all the places to run with Ben. Not the fitness kind of running, but running and playing and jumping and pulling him in the wagon and listening to nature sounds and airplane sounds.

Love cooking for my family because pizza can't be delivered to my home.

Love rocking chairs and porch swings. It seems a porch isn't complete in the South until a rocking chair sits on it.

Love these bugs called mosquito hawks. Think the jury's still out about whether or not they keep the mosquitoes under control. But I seem to notice them much more than mosquitoes, so maybe they really are eating the mosquitoes.

Love the fact that my hubby and I going to run a 10K together this month. I love running and I miss being able to work out with him, since we don't get to do it together as much anymore. But I love that he's good about taking care of Ben whenever I need to take care of me!

Love antebellum homes. They are so beautiful, and the 10K is going to take us through them and the MUW (Mississippi University for Women – it's coed now).

Love B&Bs. We spent a night in a little, rustic cottage for our 3rd anniversary – complete with horse pastures and deer in the back yard. It was peaceful, calm and quiet. When you have a toddler boy, you have a new appreciation for silence. I always say, "I swear whoever coined the phrase 'Silence is golden' was a PARENT. Probably of a TODDLER. Probably a toddler BOY!

My new Sonicare toothbrush. OK, this really has nothing to do with Mississippi, but I am loving it. All I have to do is hold the toothbrush in my mouth and practically does all the work for me. The only weird thing is that when you're so used to brushing your teeth, it's weird when you're done with the Sonicare toothbrush, because you feel like you didn't even do anything.

Love not so much.

The fact that I have yet to meet someone who gets my name right. (Johnny, Jeannie, Ginny) 867-5309 ring a bell with anyone? Scratch that, they probably think it's Johnny's number, or Jeannie's, or Ginny's. Maybe I need to pronounce it the way Forrest Gump does.

Septic Tanks. Hate to offend anyone here, but tampons are no longer as useful as they once were designed to be, because of the septic tank. And the concept of the septic tank, frankly, just grosses me out. Can't they just take *IT* away – *far* away?! Rather than leave it under the ground near my house?!?!

My mail is where?! Gotta love this picture I took today. While I love Richard, our postal carrier – he is a little odd at times. I just got done putting Ben down for his nap, and I found our mail here!

priceless.

The very sad fact that I would rather have a Hobby Lobby than an Old Navy at this point. Sadly, Wal-Mart is getting rid of their fabric/craft/yarn sections nationwide! Correct me if I am wrong, but I thought Wal-Mart was supposed to support "small town America", because they offered literally *everything* in one place. What does Wal-Mart think we do out here in the country?!?! We yarn and sew and CRAFT! I'm done talking about this – it's making me upset as I speak.

While I probably elaborated on the things I love not so much….I am happy that my "loves" outnumber the dislikes.

controversial.

I must say that I much rather write about complete nonsense, it's much more fun to me for some reason. Maybe it's because a toddler boy has infiltrated my entire being, I don't know.

Today, however, is a different story. And, yes, it's about war and the efforts being made overseas. I came across a girl from high school's profile. I knew her pretty well – all things considered. We went to after school care together for a while, and I always knew she was the artistic type. So if you want to read further into stereotypes you may, but what I saw on her profile already spelled it out. I didn't have to. She had a picture of a girl involved in "peaceful demonstration". She carried a sign that read: "bombing for peace is like f*cking for virginity". How sad. All I can think is this person needs to be told what reality is. But, IN REALITY, I know it wouldn't and doesn't matter. There is a certain point for all of us that we reach where it doesn't matter what anyone tells you – you will think what you want – regardless.
So, that's fine. All I can say is what all of you already know. To make such a statement, is clearly ridiculous. It doesn't make sense and for a person to draw those parallels. Well, let's just say that the way this person thinks isn't logical, so no amount of explaining is going to make this person understand. Sad. As crude as the movie "Team America" is – it's true when it comes to actors trying to understand what they aren't schooled in. We all remember the line from the movie, "As actors, it is our responsibility to read the newspapers, and then say what we read on television like it's our own opinion." And it's not just actors. People. People thinking they have a handle, a grasp, an understanding of something when their statements clearly show otherwise.

I don't know how I feel about what's going on with our troops and Iraq right now. I know I am grateful that Rob isn't over there. But the possibility always looms, even HERE at a training base, which is something I have recently learned. I certainly don't claim to have all the answers either. So mostly it's disheartening to think how people chomp at the bit to make a statement (however uninformed) on this issue. It's sad to me, because it has become a little bit more personal to me because of Rob.

Rob is very sensitive, conscientious, and is a very strong and caring person at the same time. He has a strong core - striving, excelling, and devoting himself to the military. I love him, but that aside, he is a person of integrity. And when I see careless statements being made about war and bombs, it hurts. He has a lot more education and training in his field and profession. It's not just about "bombing" as though it's a close-your-eyes-and-pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey thing. It's about skill, military intelligence, precision….much more knowledge and comprehension required than inscribing some catchy, yet tacky, claim on a piece of poster board with a Sharpie.

One thing he was required to memorize is this little blue book issued to him as a new cadet. It's a synopsis of the history of the Air Force and the military in general. If U.S. military history could be condensed, this is what it would be. This little book is required to be with you at all times, and at any given minute, upperclassman can demand you recite any section of it.

A quote by John Stuart Mill seems fitting: "War is an ugly thing, but not the ugliest of things. The decayed and degraded state of moral and patriotic feeling which thinks that nothing is worth war is much worse. The person who has nothing for which he is willing to fight, nothing which is more important than his own personal safety, is a miserable creature and has no chance of being free unless made and kept so by the exertions of better men than himself."

I hope that things look up and that efforts come to an end once things have been resolved. And I still believe there are certain things worth fighting for. And I know that a lot of the nation just wants to give up and quit because it is simply easier…..

a bad case of dg.

So it all starts with a can of Starbucks Iced Coffee or Nerds or ice cream or pineapple soda or….

Well, I promised a 2nd installment of my last blog titled "cake eating." I don't quite think that all of my neuroses are worth talking about. Seriously, who would? But this one has a little bit of ridiculousness associated with it.
A bad case of DG? DG is the acronym that my husband and I have coined to describe my habit. I do this all the time, and Rob doesn't do this all the time. And on occasion Jenny gets picked on for this. It stands for "delayed gratification" – I have gotten rather compulsive about delayed gratification. I am going to manage to talk about some of the same things in my last blog: cake and sex; not "baby" cake, but real cake. Delayed Gratification for me is "how long can I put off this thing that I really, really, REALLY love before I indulge in it?" (Thus resulting in maximum satisfaction – emphasis on maximum)

The answer to that can be determined for these betrothed items:
Can of Starbucks Iced Coffee: 6 months and still counting
Can of pineapple soda: 1.5 months (before husband nags me to drink it, because he was trying to be sweet by buying me something that I love.)
Ice cream: bad example, because Rob and I can polish these off pretty quick.
Nerds: bad example, because I have already determined that I'm addicted to them, I keep constant stock of them.

You see, people might think that I am a perfect candidate for Y2K because of this DG – remember the national freak out period where every one was storing items before the year 2000 – because we thought the world was going to end or something like that?!

Let me assure you that this is not the case. See, the reason for this is I feel that the longer I "persevere" and abstain from said item, the sweeter the Nerds taste, the fizzier the pineapple soda, the more jolting the Starbucks Iced Coffee. Basically – the more glorious the experience is going to be, because I have waited X amount of time. Yes, it's ridiculous, and yes, it is turning compulsive. I have some of that genetic dysfunction in myself. Rob also calls my DG – hoarding. We had a technical/symantics debate on whether or not is was right to call it "hoarding". It wasn't a long debate, because we're professionals at being married and we never fight. (Did I mention we're celebrating 3 years on Wednesday?!?!) No, not exactly, but we have gotten used to the fact that there are times where we know that once we've stated our individual positions, we're done and that's it, because we still see it our own way. I think someone has said "agree to disagree". That's it. Yes, we do that quite well. We STILL have issues about how each of us loads the dishwasher, but it doesn't matter, because when that one person isn't around we fix the dishwasher the way we like it…..and round and round we go. Beautiful harmony.

OK, so what am I saying? Again, I digress. Oh yeah, the debate about the term "hoarding". I told him that "hoarding" is when you continue to collect and collect and you never spend/use it. Like a miser, right? I told him, too, that I preferred it be called "savoring". I like to "savor" things. So the reason I save something is for that delayed gratification that will allow me to really "savor" (copy enjoy) it.

Now to talk about cake. Remember the phrase we talked about? "You can't have your cake and eat it too." Well, this is why once he clarified the true meaning, thus ruining my last blog entry, it really made painful sense to me. Because you can't have the two things at the same time "cake" and "eating the cake". And this is why Rob, in a sense, is correct in calling it "hoarding", even though I am not actually continuing to collect more and more. I am purposely not eating the cake, because I still want to have the cake in my possession. Until the "eating the cake" part seems more rewarding, then I will still have "cake" in my possession. And in fairness to my preference of "savoring", I, too, am correct because in order for me to really "savor" (enjoy) my "cake", it requires that I wait X amount of time until I really, really, REALLY want it.

So what have I not talked about that I said I would? Oh yes, sex. Think about the wedding day and the wedding NIGHT. Maybe this DG gene that I have is a female inherited thing, and the lack thereof is a male inherited thing. Let me explain. See Rob's approach to my behavior is just this: "Jenny, you can 'savor' it, just get some more. See, I continue to "savor" over and over and over." Now think of the traditional wedding process. You are constantly building and building up to that day, and no matter what, people will always say that that day happened so fast and it was a blur. Now, I think girls will say that more, because for guys it's just a countdown thing. How much more time until the Wedding Night?!? (picture kid in backseat of car: "Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet?") Now think of another analogy frequently mentioned. C'mon we all have heard it. "Men are like microwaves and women are like crockpots". How true. And as far as sex – it's the road to the destination for women, and men just want to get there.

And likewise is true. I know if I asked Rob to "savor" sex, he would LAUGH in my face and say "Jenny, you can 'savor' it, just get some more. See, I continue to "savor" over and over and over and over and over!!!"

Houston, we have a problem. Alright, I think this one's a tie, unless I can get some audience participation. So…..? Is it a girl thing? Or is it a "Jenny, you're ridiculous" thing?

I ask you all: Would you rather have your cake or eat it?

Aw well. Cheers anyway! (Sigh. I think I need a day job.)

Little tribute to our wedding day.

lose something? there isn't any cake in there.

cake! wink, wink.

cake eating

It's like I have fans, right? Not quite, but I do have priceless friends that will last and last and last for this life on Earth. One fan friend writes: "How are things in the 'sippi? I am writing to tell you that I am disappointed in the lack of blogs lately. I will have you know that the ONLY reason I have been logging into myspace is to check for more Jenny Brooks blogs. I am sure you have some good stories to tell! Maybe about the dog that is trying to adopt you, or about your cute little boy, etc!!!"

Little does she know that I am using this to exploit her! J Well, I included this portion for a few reasons. One, because she always gives me such warm fuzzies and that's because she is a friend for life. Two, this is to prove to all of us, that we don't all have to be crack addicts, umm, I mean MySpace addicts and that there IS INDEED HOPE FOR US ALL. Third, I have a sad disclaimer. I also included her submission because I plan to use it to disclaim my initial blog below. The truth of the matter is, while I would have posted this sooner, because it had already been written (I wasn't sure I liked it and I wasn't sure it really got any point across. Yes, sometimes I do try to make a point.).

This reader, Em, (she's my #2, but only on MySpace) is my best friend from college. And while we're all grown ups here, she knew me at a time in my life where talking about sex was not exactly my "cup of tea." I do need to tell her that the reason I am not going to talk about the "dog that is trying to adopt" us is because, well, in all honesty a sex story will emerge. See this dog trying to claim us as family really belongs to the family that lives in the trailer behind our property. For much of the late evening Saturday this dear little brindle boxer was running around every door outside our house trying to get in. Our boxer, Rainey, is already crazy by herself, let alone with some dog encouraging her. As much as this dog was skinny and malnourished, my husband and Emily insisted that feeding it would not be a good idea if I wanted the dog to leave us alone. So we didn't feed it. AND IT STILL HUNG AROUND. ALL NIGHT. It even managed to find the back door of our house that goes into our bedroom and scratch and jump on the door. I am going to spare you details….but leave you with this. Picture a married couple trying to spend a little romance together, and the dog almost breaks down the door. Think I'm kidding? Well, it's true. After all sorts of jumping on our door and us having cold weather at night. It seems the metal door contracts when it's cold, and doesn't stay latched too well because of it. I said, "Rob, why does it seem that the door is open?" Rob's like, "Because it is!" I jump out of bed, and quickly shut the door out. A second more, and the dog would have been in our house meeting Rainey. Two lively boxers is NOT what you need at midnight and mainly due to the "thing" mentioned earlier.

Below is the blog I have just prefaced. Ha – if you can call it that.

I have been thinking about the saying "you can't have your cake and eat it, too." I think we all agree that it is a ridiculous statement, because we all say "well, if I have cake, of course, I want to eat it." Yes, we all know this is true. Lately, though, it has made me think, because I think what the adage really meant was you actually have to work at it to get your cake. If you want to eat cake, you must work for cake. In this case you must combine all the ingredients into a batter, and bake it in the oven.

This has been the case for me. Well, sort of. It has been a sacrifice issue for me. In this case, cake is baby. I want the "cake", but I don't want to eat it? Wait a sec. So analogies don't work as well for me as they do my husband. Rob loves analogies. He loves using them to explain things to me. It actually suits him quite well, because it helps me understand airplane stuff. For instance, my favorite story is "turning into the notch". You should ask him sometime. But this is off my issue of cake.

Cake is good. Baby is good. I'm willing to bake a "cake" cake, but not a "baby" cake. Really what I am trying to say is that lately I have been feeling the "feeling" of another child. Wanting one. Feeling ready. Ben conveniently gives me good excuses to hide behind, just by his every day antics. But this is not living life. Living life is not making excuses, so I cannot really use his mischievous antics to change my mind about future Brooks children. The bottom line here is that I want another baby, but I don't want to have to bake it. Literally. Pretty bad, huh? Well, it gets a little worse. The reason I don't want to "bake" it is because I have grown to be pretty proud of my figure, because this is the first time in my life that I have actually worked pretty hard for it. No, I was never overweight. No, I don't have a Weight Watchers testimony to tell. No, I wasn't a "Monica". But I do feel that I with my running and my love of physical fitness, I have earned this body, and I enjoy pushing it to its limits and being tough. So the prideful nature in me really does not look forward to "baking" a baby and being all big and pregnant and stuff. As much as I know this sounds bad, I really don't mean to be vain. It apparently is something linked to my human nature, so please forgive me.

I am a little embarrassed and realize that this prideful arrogance needs to vanish. Even Rob – known for being the "diplomatic" one in the family – didn't argue with me when I said, "that's pretty bad, huh?" I have even tried to look at "baking" as a challenge to get myself psyched about it again. I would think to myself, "Just think of the challenge of trying to shrink a SECOND time!" It has made me pretty torn about it, and I know the right answer. I know that the way I feel is wrong and, frankly, ungodly.

Life is sacrifice. And if you don't sacrifice, you don't live. I really believe that.

I think humility is an ongoing battle. Because I have never been very competitive and certainly not sports-minded, I am realizing how important it is to remain humble. I know that that involves continuing to go to God and be honest. Being meek. Being earnest. God is my true gauge, not me. I need to want what He wants.

And perhaps, that is why the adage makes more sense to me now. You really don't want to eat cake (and you surely *don't* deserve it), if you're not willing to make it yourself. At least this is proving to be my situation. I don't know. Would love thought from anyone. Maybe you have your own stumbling blocks in different areas of you life. Maybe this will help you. Maybe it will add to your confusion.

PS – My husband has just ruined this blog for me as he said that the whole meaning behind the cliché is not what I think it means. But I'm posting it anyway. He said that it really means that you can't have both, because if you eat it the cake, you have none, and to continue having cake, means not eating any. Whatever. This will bring me to a continuation of this new topic. Trust me.

To be continued….

PPS - and since this blog is a little lame, I will include some pictures of my darling boy, Ben. Yes, he's darling, even when he fights bedtime.

when poop hits the floor.

Life here in Mississippi has provided me with new experiences. Some pertaining to the area in which I live, some just general life experiences.

For instance, I have never lived in a place where I pass my home. Multiple times. Not just the first time we were looking for our new home. See, we live outside of the "big city" which is really only the size of about 25,000. We're pretty much in the country. And if you don't believe me, let me just mention the fact that we live across the street from a gas station/convenience store called "The Ole Country Store." No joke. As for this whole missing my house thing….I am thankful to have a few landmarks by which to find my house. I know that when I pass the "Hose 'R' Down" car wash to start looking for my house. I know that if I get to "The Ole Country Store" I have just passed my house. But most people on this highway do not have this luxury. It is by the grace of God that WE do – yes. He knows I need His Grace. Thank God for "The Ole Country Store", because we have already received a few phone calls from them, because delivery trucks looking for our home are lost and can't find our house. Little do they know just how close they really are. If it weren't for these beacons, I would seriously be still wandering around in the dark looking for my home. (Note: I am pretty sure that my pilot husband would pretty proud of me for using this term.)

Now in the beginning I mentioned that life here in Mississippi has given me new experiences. I will tell you about the new "situations" that have since surfaced upon moving here. Ben. Yes, my son. Oh, yes, I have had him in my arms now for just about 20 months, and I have had him in my womb for roughly nine months. So you would think that I would be pretty familiar with that little kid running around the house. Apparently…not so much. This little guy, who really is pretty little for his age, has managed to escape his crib. This is probably one of the biggest shocks since the beginning of motherhood. It has always been a fear that has rotted a small part of my brain, but something I never really thought would happen – at least not any time soon. Especially since he's tinier than other kids. It all started after almost the first week of living here. His sleeping had been erratic. Sometimes he slept well and other nights he was up literally almost as much as a newborn. Mostly I just attributed it to growing pains that we all are blessed to not remember and being in a new home and environment. The first night his crib-climbing trek began, it was one of those bad nights. He had been up frequently and every time I held him to go back to sleep, he would awake as soon as I laid him down. Every parent knows this: it's like they're fake sleeping, just waiting to fool you. So I finally gave up going in there and holding him and decided he was going to need to work it out on his own. Rob couldn't sleep from the crying (Ben's, not mine), so he went in to the living room and watched the TV on mute just waiting out the minutes until Ben fell back asleep. Instead, however, Rob hears a thump and then he hears that the crying has become louder – right outside Ben's door. He opens the door and 'lo and behold' there is Ben standing at the door (NOT in his crib) – crying. So now we have converted the crib into the toddler bed, and this has been quite a heart breaking experience. Both selfishly and unselfishly. Selfishly, I feel like I have been robbed of my evenings with Rob and myself, while Ben is sleeping soundly. Now that Ben knows he can get out of bed whenever he feels like it, he doesn't ever want to go to sleep. Unselfishly, now that Ben doesn't want to go to sleep, he cries so hard that he's throwing up. That is hard to watch. While I don't want a spoiled child, I also don't want him making himself sick to the point of what's happening now.

The second new experience for Ben is toilet training. We're not really going at it aggressively – but more progressively. We have purchased a training toilet, a "Potty Time with Elmo" book that has different sounds attributed to the "throne", and we have made a potty chart that Ben can place stickers on when he does the deed. No, not that deed. So far he has done great. The second day of owning this lovely little dwelling place, he put a small marble-sized no. 2 in the potty. That was extremely exciting. I have always enjoyed talking about poop, but my level of excitement from this small little poop has brought it to a whole new level! (Note: If you don't quite believe just how much I love talking about poop, refer to my blog titled "It's all over when someone poops in the pool!" He has also done 4 or 5 no. 1s in it as well. Dum-Dum lollipops have done a terrific job as a source of motivation. My son at this very moment is enjoying an apple flavored Dum-Dum – which is the result of a small piece of poop in the toilet – and unfortunately a larger one on the floor right next to it. So while we're never "there" yet in life, I do see the remote sightings of that tracking beacon!
He is a smart little boy – having proved to be a little too smart for his own age. I keep telling Rob that I feel like he is advancing too fast for me to keep up. I need to regroup and think up some new tactics. I have always believed that God doesn't keep us comfortable and complacent for too long, and lately that truth has reared itself! I was even getting excited about the prospect of getting pregnant again. But lately it seems that every time I get close to that, Ben goes and throws my world on a slight tilt and scares me back in to my corner! I know that this is only the beginning of parenthood and that I have not even experienced a fraction of what my parents, my in-laws, their parents have endured over the years.

Whether parents or not, life is always about changing and riding those waves. It is always about finding your way home in the dark. Lately, for me it has been a both figurative and literal term. But, I am thankful for the beacons that remind me that God is there to help me through those dark times. I know that I will find my way home if I just keep looking for the "Hose 'R' Down" and "The Ole Country Store". I know that the dark times are the most important times for growth, perseverance, and just knowing that you will see yourself in brighter days. And in those brighter days, you will be genuinely thankful for the darker ones. I keep telling myself that if I can just know that, then maybe I can be thankful at that very moment when darkness is the only thing around me. To me, being wise enough to just know that at that dark moment is true growth.



oh - yes i did.