William Wednesday

I get it now. I totally get it. I get why my mom still called me her baby when I was graduating from high school.

I was at a girls evening with people from my church Tuesday night and we didn't all know each other so we went around and gave little introductions. One girl said 'I have a baby...' And another girl interrupted and said 'oh no no no she's not a baby, she's totally a toddler'

So when my turn came I said, 'I have a baby, but I guess if your toddler isn't a baby then my 46 month old isn't a baby either huh?'

But he is. He's my William. He's my baby.

When I see other kids running around who seem to be William's size it's so easy to refer to them as kids. They're kids! But not my William. He's my baby!

I see why moms Sometimes fall into a terrible trap of coddling. No one thinks to themselves, 'I'm going to just sit here and nurse the scrape on my teenager's knee'. No one thinks that (or at least I hope not). we think, 'I'm just going to nurture my baby a little bit'

If I step back and look at William objectively he's all-kid. He doesn't have baby mannerisms. He doesn't have baby facial features. He hardly has a single word he can't pronounce. He speaks in complex sentences and he runs and jumps and climbs like all the big boys on the playground. He's a kid.

But when he's screaming at 7:30 at night because he's so exhausted, and he's upset that he only gets 2 bedtime books since he lost 2 for poor behavior, all I can do is sit down, let him crawl in my lap, and rock back and forth while he cries for awhile.

Maybe I'm coddling. Maybe I'm nurturing. I don't know and today I don't care. He's my baby. He may have been a big kid all day at school, but tonight he was just a baby who needed his mommy.

And I loved it.

For This Child

I have written this post a thousand times in my head, and I just can't seem to get it quite right. There are so many pieces and so many angles and I can't seem to place them together perfectly.  So, now I'll sit fingers-to-keyboard and hope I have better luck this way.

For this child I have prayed...

Before our wedding, Austin and I went through a series of pre-marital counseling sessions with Father Tom, the priest who would marry us.  Father Tom has been a part of my family since I was a baby - maybe before I was born? - so he's known me and my journey along the way.  In one of our sessions when we were talking about the military side of our marriage, deployments and such, when Tom looked at Austin and said one of the most profound things he could have said.  I didn't even know, at the time, just how profound it was.  He told Austin that the single most significant experience in my life was my dad's illness and death and that, because of that, I would always link my future experiences to that one.  I knew he was right, I just didn't know to what degree.

About two months ago, after I had started my period for the 14th painful month in a row, my cousin said "I'm so sorry that God is saying 'not right now'."  Chelsea has been one of the most supportive people over the last year and she has offered me so much strength and wisdom, but when she said that I got so angry.  I was growing very tired of people saying things like "It's just not time yet" or "Soon you'll see, it'll be perfect in God's time" or something of that nature.  It wasn't that I didn't appreciate the support and encouragement.  What bothered me was that all of these people seemed to just blindly believe that I would be a mother of two (or more).  Everyone kept trying to assure me that certainly it would happen, and that I just needed to be patient.  And it was on this day, when Chelsea made that comment, that I realized I didn't have that same faith.  In my heart I really believed that this journey was a part of my life for a reason and it would serve a purpose but that, in the end, I would never have another child of my own.  Maybe we'd adopt, or maybe William would be an only child forever, but I really believed that God's plan was for me to not bear another child.  The reality of my belief brought a pain deep in my stomach like I hadn't felt in a long, long time.  It took a lot of prayer and soul searching for me to put a finger on exactly why I didn't believe I'd be blessed with another baby. 

About a week after Chelsea's comment it hit me:
In all my life, there is one thing for which I have prayed more than anything else.  My dad.  I learned how to pray through my dad's illness.  I learned what it meant to pray when you were sad, pray when you were happy, pray when you were worried, or scared, or joyful.  I learned what it meant to continue to rely on God in the good times and pray even harder in the bad.  And I have never prayed for one single thing more than my dad.  But, in the end, I learned the hardest lesson about prayer and reliance on God: his plan is not always our plan, and when he answers prayers it is not always in the manner which we'd hope.  I prayed he'd heal my dad and deliver my family from the struggle with cancer.  God answered that prayer, yet my dad was still not with me.  It took years to wrestle with that, and if I'm being honest that wrestling match will probably never be over.  There will always be times when I look back and wonder why 3 kids had to lose their dad when he was such a phenomenal parent.  Why my mom had to lose her husband.  Why my grandma had to lose her baby.  Why was that the answer to our prayers?  Why him?  Why not someone else?

Most days I don't ask those questions anymore, as I realize that God has a plan for all of us.  My dad did amazing things in his life and touched people in ways most never will.  He touched people through his cancer and his life has impacted the lives of people fighting cancer for decades to come.  And there are parts of my life which would never have been possible or worked out how they did had that not been God's plan.  God didn't  give me my heart's desire, but he did answer my prayers.  

And so I linked our fertility struggles to my dad's illness and death.  Just like Father Tom knew I would.  The thing I have prayed for more than any other, besides my dad, was to have a second baby and as time went on I began to believe that God's answer to my prayers would end up just like his answer to my prayers 16 years ago.  I would learn a lesson and maybe touch some lives, but my heart's desire would not be granted.

Oh ye of little faith.

If you don't already know, Austin and I are SO thrilled to share that we will be welcoming Wallis Baby #2 in June 2014. I used to wonder how I would ever love a baby the way I love William, but I have learned exactly how possible it is over the last 15 months.  Through endless prayers and aches in my heart a love began to grow long before a baby ever did.  And in some ways, I am more excited to announce my second pregnancy than I was to announce my first.  I don't love this baby any more than I loved William, but I sure did long for it more.  I'm excited to see William as a big brother, I'm excited to see Austin with another tiny baby, but most of all I can't wait for that moment when the nurse lays my sweet baby on my chest and I am able to thank God for his beautifully answered prayers.

Boy, girl…I truly, truly do not care. (although, if I was forced to choose, I think my choice would not be what most people expect it to be)  I love this baby with every ounce of my being and I am so thankful not only that God answered my prayers, but that He taught me this lesson along the way.  

I Wish You Were Here

**may be a tough read**

I saw you at dinner last night.

You sat right next to me in your bright yellow shirt.

It felt like no time had passed. It just felt normal, and right, to be with you.

William had so much fun playing with you. You were as good with him as I'd always dreamed. I hope you don't mind that we didn't tell him who you really are; we thought it'd be too confusing for him. I wasn't prepared to explain why we can only see you at Relay for Life functions.

You accepted Alfredo with more grace than I knew you had. You accepted everything so perfectly.

After dinner when we got home I told Austin it just wasn't right that you had to live all alone, waiting for your next chance just to watch everyone else's lives go on. It wasn't fair that you had to watch It at all. I said I didn't care about the rules or the standards, I just thought we should go pick you up and let you stay with us during the seasons when we are lucky enough to have you.

You and your yellow shirt. Your shirt for those who lost their battle. Your shirt for those who come back to us just for certain occasions.

I got in my car to go back and get you. To invite you to stay in my house.

And then I woke up. Sobbing.

I don't know if it was pregnancy brain, the holidays, or the beast of grief just sneaking up when least expected. But I do know there's not much worse than being afraid to go back to sleep only because you know how much it may hurt to leave your dreams again. I wanted so badly to fall back asleep just to be with him again, and yet I was terrified of being with him and losing him one more time.

16 years and it can still hit me like a ton of bricks. It never goes away does it? I miss him now more than ever, and I'm guessing that will unfortunately be true 16 years from now too.

A Reunion Fit for a Wednesday

I can't really explain why, but Brian has been one of William's favorite people since before he could talk.  

Sometimes I think it's because Brian was present in William's life at a time when he really needed him.  When Brian arrived in Colorado in 2011 William hadn't really interacted with a male in about 3-4 months.  After Austin left we didn't have much free time socially and when we did see people it was usually my girl friends.  William did great with me and great with my friends (and he didn't talk which meant even if he hated every minute of it he couldn't tell me so…ah, the memories)  But when Brian walked through our door for the first time William instantly lit up.  Brian stayed with us for about three weeks while he house-hunted and bought his first house, so the bond continued to build daily.  From then on his entire face and demeanor changed whenever Brian was around.  William and I both began to count down the days and hours until Sundays when Brian would come over for football.  I got a break, and William got some time with his best buddy.  

It's hard for me to really remember, but the first few months of this bond were entirely unspoken.  William had very few words (very VERY hard to remember) and Brian's name was not one of them.  He could say "book" or "more" or "please" or "ball" - beyond that, their interaction was entirely non-verbal.  But it was a special bond that you could see growing and words just somehow weren't necessary.

Once he did start to talk he refused to say Brian's name.  I still don't know why, but I think it became somewhat of a game.  He just never said it!  Then one day in October when we were all in Texas Brian was frustrated and yelled out "Oh GOSH!" in an effort to avoid saying a curse word.  William clued in immediately and yelled "ohhhhhh GOOOOOOSH" and everyone laughed.

That was it.  From then on, he was uncle oh gosh.  William did learn his name - after all, I had referred to him as Brian all that time - but he never calls him Brian.  It's just oh gosh, and that bond has never wavered despite the miles apart. If I could turn back time I would have been sure to have my cell phone ready for their reunion in Texas when we flew down for Thanksgiving.

We had arranged our flights so that we landed about an hour before Brian.  My mom, Alfredo, Brandon, Dana and the kids all got gate passes to go through security and meet us.  Brandon had special "welcome home" shirts made so we all matched and we had our own little welcome home ceremony at the airport.  Welcome home ceremonies are often more special for the families than the soldiers, and if that's true in this case it's just fine with me.  It was wonderful for us all to be able to welcome him home in style like that.  

When Brian FINALLY walked out of the gate William wasted no time - I saw Brian for half a second and then all of a sudden I saw William jumping into his arms.  if you know William you know he's reserved with his affection and he really saves it for special moments.  He doesn't give hugs out like candy on halloween that's for sure.  But he made it into Brian's arms faster than I could even register it happening.  The rest of the week William was living the high life.  He had all of his favorite people in one place - he truly adores all of his grandparents, uncles, his favorite aunt (only one, for now) and his cousins.  But let's be honest - he was living the high life mostly because he had oh gosh there.

Maybe it was the influential stage of his life which built the strong bond.  Or maybe it's just something special they share that's unexplained.  After all, the first time he saw him when he was 9 months old he crawled right up to him and tried to climb up his legs.  Prime stranger-danger time for a baby, and being cautious as he was, he never went up to new people like that.  But he sure seemed to already know and love his uncle.  I don't think I could love watching their bond more than I do.

Now if only his uncle had remembered to say "oh GOSH" over thanksgiving instead of teaching William his first curse word.  Lord, I don't think I've wanted to punch someone (Brian, not William) harder than when I heard that word come out of his sweet little mouth...

William Wednesday

Well, the highlight of the week for me has been watching the swinging pendulum. Translation: currently I outrank Austin in William's order of preference. I will bask in it, because I know it will be fleeting. But for now it feels pretty nice! I get the most cuddles, most hugs, he wants me to take him to school every day, he wants me every night at bed...ok, so it's added work, but I'm ok with that!

He's had a really good week. Last week at this time his teacher had sent a note home asking for a parent teacher conference to discuss his behavior. Being the goody two shoes I am, the thought of a note home from a teacher felt like the whole world crashing down. But, I was able to put that aside and just focus on fixing whatever this behavior issue may be. We couldn't schedule our meeting until Friday, so I called the teacher just to get an idea of what the problem was. Turns out our little ball of energy is always a ball of energy and has trouble calming down for things like circle time or other quiet activities. He does great in his math class and at church, so I don't think it's an attention issue - I think it's a focus and captivation issue. I don't think circle time interests him, for whatever reason, so his personal care is low. We have been working a lot this week with him on his 'jobs' at school. His jobs are to keep his pants clean, keep his hands to himself, listen, and stay calm and focused. We've been reinforcing it and the teachers help remind him - and so far he's been doing great.

This weekend was supposed to be a plan-free no-activities type weekend, but somehow that never pans out. Saturday morning/afternoon Austin and I had a relay committee workshop so William played with some of our friends from church. Then when I picked him up we went up to church to help set up for Sunday's service. We have never helped with setup, but he and I both really enjoyed it and it was amazing to see allthe  work that went into getting it ready for Sunday. (Our church is currently in a high school gym so set up as tear down happens each week. We are hoping to move into our own building in January!!!) William liked helping set up the baby room and he played with baby toys for an hour! Didn't know infant toys were still so captivating :) probably more so now than 3 years ago!

Saturday and Sunday Austin had work all day (besides his attendance at our relay meeting and church) so it was just me and William. Sunday we got some grocery shopping done and some packing. And looooooots of laundry. I had hoped to go get all of our family's Christmas presents to avoid shipping...but, time was not on my side. Guess I'll be paying for shipping later! Oh well.

William is very excited for our trip to Texas this weekend. We leave on Saturday and he has told me every morning since Sunday that it's time to go to the airport. We have a countdown sheet that he marks off every night, so I know he knows, he just wishes every day was THE day. But, before we know it we'll be catching a can at 4:30am to head down south! Look out deer and turkey, William is on his way!

Dear Gary Kubiak

Dear Gary,

I'm writing you a letter on my blog because...well, after 10 weeks of frustration I just can't hold it in anymore. (That bye week was glorious wasn't it?) I have no way of really reaching you, nor do I truly believe you need to hear what I have to say. So, my anonymous blog is all I need to vent and move on.

I'm positive you don't remember me, but we met back in the spring of 2011. You were watching your son's spring ball game at Colorado State and I was there visiting with a high school football player who was talking with the coaches. You stood silently as you watched the game, I assume to be one of the few you are able to see as a professional football coach. And yet, you didn't mind being interrupted by broncos fans and texans fans and people who really couldn't pinpoint how they knew you, but somehow they did. I was one of the people who interrupted your personal time to ask for a picture, and you kindly obliged. You were a very nice man, and we shared gig 'em's as fellow aggies before I went on my way.

I liked you. I liked you before that interaction as you had finally brought a spark to the Texans, and I liked you more after having met you. I liked you all the way up to yesterday, and I like you still.

But I gotta say - you've made it really, really hard.

I know that, as an average fan, I do not know what it takes to play professional sports, coach professional sports, or run a franchise of any sort - much less at that caliber. But I do know about job performance, and yesterday you had me baffled.

I am a tax accountant and I am quite certain that if I turned in 3 tax returns with the equivalent of a 'pick 6' in each one, I would be demoted in my role at work. I'm pretty sure after 2 I would have been on a performance plan. I don't think I would have had a chance to screw up a 4th. I'm also pretty sure that in my first year on the job if I made a mistake equivalent to one interception, I would not be replaced by someone who had done the former. And yet, that's exactly what happened in our QB position. When schaub was throwing points to the other team we were 'standing by our QB in a tough time' but as Keenum learns the game we abandon him when the heat starts to surmount. Where's the support now?

But back to me. My job is to file tax returns timely. Some are harder than others, and I do some to a better degree of excellence than others. It's the nature of life. But essentially, I have one job. If my success rate were the same as Randy Bullock's, I'm fairly certain I would no longer have a job.

Now, these aren't easy things for me to say. I think Matt Schaub did wonderful things for the Texans organization and I think he had a stellar year in 2011. Unfortunately, midway through last season I turned to my husband and said 'I think Matt hit his peak last week. I think that's it'. I supported him, I rooted for his success, and on October 6th I yelled loudly and proudly as he ran onto the field in San Francisco despite the harrassment by less than friendly fans. I was a Schaub supporter. As I am a Bullock supporter. He's an aggie - how could I not be??

But supporting someone doesn't mean you blindly think they're the best for the job. Maybe Case Keenum wasn't going to win the game yesterday, but when I saw Schaub go on the field my confidence (low as it already was) dwindled more. And maybe Case Keenum could never be a Super Bowl willing franchise quarterback, but I know the only way he has a shot is to have the support of his team and coaches behind him. 100%. Not a pouting Matt schaub on the sidelines (as he was during keenum's first start) and not the threat of losing his job when he's just barely earned it.

When I went to the game in San Francisco my eyes were opened to so many things that viewers at home just aren't able to see. A lot of pouting. A lot of missed reads by Schaub. A lot of predictable play calling. A lot of selfish behavior. A lot of dissention among what was once a tight cohesive team.

To sum it up, our most notable franchise player - who made a choice to stick with Houston when winning was but a distant dream - now says 'I'm in a contract, I don't have a choice' in reference to his status as a Texan.

Really? That's what it's come to? Someone, somewhere along the way, has driven Andre Johnson to feel that way about his ball club. And why?

With talent like Andre Johnson, DeAndre Hopkins, Garret Graham and Duane Brown to protect how can we go 2 for 14 on 3rd downs? 

With talent like JJ Watt, Antonio Smith, and almost the entire list of starters in the Bulls on Parade how do we possibly let other teams put up so many points? One of our defensive players once said that all we should ever expect of our offense is 14, maybe 17 points. Anything else proves to be a failure on the defense. Well - how did our stellar defense get to this?

Ben Tate said Houston fans are too wishy washy. Well, he can think what he wants. Fortunately for him, he didn't patiently sit through the agonizing years of 2002-2008 (or 2009? 2010?) as many of his fans did. I'm sure there are wishy washy fans, or bandwagon fans as I prefer to call them. All teams have them. They come out of the wood work when times are good and they're so quick to jump ship when the course is lost. I'm sure there are plenty. But let's be clear: voicing disappointment and frustration is not the same as jumping ship. If I (or the thousands of other Texans faithfuls) was going to abandon the Texans I would have a long time ago. I'd have been a patriots fan for their run at glory, then I would have left them the day tom Brady went down. I would have jumped over to the colts with how electrifying Peyton manning was, and now I'd be wearing orange and blue rooting for Peyton to bring the trophy back to the mile high city.

But I'm not. I'm a sucker for my boys in steel blue (though battle red is my favorite if we're talking uniforms). I'm a texans fan through good and bad, but that doesn't mean I have to pretend the bad doesn't eat away at my heart. No, I'm not wishy washy for being angry. I'm not wishy washy for thinking Schaub had not earned his spot back on the field. I'm not wishy washy for thinking it is absurd that Randy Bullock is still our kicker. I'm a passionate fan who loves her team. I'm a passionate fan who loves to see her team win.

I like you, coach. I am not one of the thousands chanting 'fire kubiak'. I'm not even one of the thousands hoping we go 2-14 to secure the #1 draft pick. I still have childlike faith that our boys can put their heads and hearts together and get us to an 8-8 season. But if that doesn't happen, I want you and the rest of the team to know that there is a difference in wishy washy fans and fans who passionately love the game. If we do go 2-14, and thousands get their wish as you are shown the door, and we do secure the #1 draft pick yet again, I will still be a proud Texan fan. No less proud than I was 4 months ago when all the talk was on a texans/falcons Super Bowl. No less proud, but a lot more frustrated. 

And coach - should that happen, should it come down to worst case scenario - please, please do what you can before you exit to make a spot in the locker room for Johnny Football. It's the least you could do.

Sincerely,

A fellow aggie, one of your loyal fans, and a Texan fan to the end.

Happy Veterans' Day

At the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month we mark Remembrance Day.

A day for us to honor all who have served. I am always very proud of my military family and friends on veterans' day but especially think of those who sacrificed it all. I didn't even know what it meant for them to sacrifice it all until I saw Austin leave his wife and one year son behind, only praying he'd return safely. These men and women truly lay everything down to serve, and it is by God's grace that they may come home.

But this year Austin gave me a new perspective and appreciation. In our small group we've been studying the book of Philippians. Well, we missed all of chapter 1 but were there for the rest. Last week we had a synopsis week - we just went over it all again and we each talked about what spoke to us the most. It's still amazing to me how the words in the bible can mean something completely different to each reader.

Austin said what hit him the most was when Paul talked about being content in all things. In Philippians 4 he mentions that he knows what it means to have everything and he knows what it means to have nothing; he knows what it is to be hungry and he knows what it is to be full. Austin said that struck him so much because he, too, knows what it is to have nothing and to have everything.

He went on to share (yes...Austin...verbally shared. Amazing!) what it was like at times to go days without food or shelter or showers. He said he truly felt he had gone to hell and he had nothing. then the day he came home he suddenly had everything. In all of that he said he had to learn, for mere survival, how to be content despite the circumstances.

What a perspective. Not many people are able to truly see the two extremes and to understand where Paul was coming from, but our service men and women have seen it all and somehow managed to make it through with a servants' heart.

I hope you can take a minute to think of these people who have laid it all down and be thankful. We are fortunate enough to not know what it's like to go hungry, and yet our service members make the choice to step into that on our behalf. They are true heroes, and I'm so lucky to have four of them in my family.

Thank you Brian, Jesse, Chris and Austin for your selfless service. And thank you to the rest of the men and women who have made the same sacrifice.

The Medical Side

I haven't written as much about my 'condition' as I'd hoped to. (Sounds a bit dramatic when described that way don't you think?). But my goal when being translucent (isn't that a step away from transparent?) was to possibly help someone else who may find themselves in my shoes. Or maybe someone will know someone in my shoes and will remember reading some of my Debbie-downer posts and attempt to take a positive spin on them. Either way, I wanted to write today about the scientific side of what I'm going through.

So, I'll start 10 years ago. In 2003 I was a broke college student who read an ad in the school newspaper for a clinical research study for a new acne medicine. Not only did it potentially offer a solution to my long-endured acne trouble, but it also paid $500. All I had to do was have a blood test, take some pills for 3 months and report back.

But, my gravy train ran dry when my initial blood test showed an alarmingly high TSH level in my blood. TSH = thyroid stimulating hormone, and if the level is high it means your hormones are over producing in an effort to stimulate your thyroid, which means your thyroid is under-functioning. Diagnosis: hypothyroidism. Suddenly my severe and sudden weight gain, increased anxiety levels, trouble keeping my body cool (among other symptoms) all made sense.  And once I told people, I learned it is incredibly common for females on both sides of my family, which means I was practically doomed. I began taking synthroid daily, which I'll take the rest of my life, and spent almost 2 years closely monitoring progress to regulate the dosage. In roughly 2005 we settled on a dose and it wasn't increased again until I was pregnant with William. that dose lasted until a few weeks ago.

However, in the time of regulated medicine I went back to the doctor on numerous occasions complaining of my thyroid symptoms. I was gaining weight despite concentrated efforts to lose. My nails were brittle. My hair was falling out rapidly. I was always very hot or very cold, never comfortable. And yet, each time I went I heard back in a few days letting me know my levels were fine.

It was infuriating! I knew these things weren't right and yet my blood results indicated I was fine. I wasn't fine. Last December when my doctor said it was fine I insisted she take more blood and test more indicators (T4, T3, and another that slipped my mind) because I had read in a book sometimes TSH can be fine while these other thyroid hormones are not. So she did, and she found they were just as peachy as the TSH.

I threw my hands in the air in frustration and then quickly found myself in the thick of tax season. Impossible to focus on tiny health issues between January and April, I vowed to revisit the issue after April 15.

So, in April I was referred to my fertility doctor (who I adore) and before doing any testing he went over medical history with me. We discussed my thyroid and other health history and then he went into detail explaining what he anticipated would be the findings of the day: PCOS. He explained what an ovary looks like in a person with PCOS, he explained symptoms related to PCOS and went over treatments. A few minutes later when he did an ultrasound my ovary appeared on the screen and it looked identical to the picture he drew in his office. I was amazed.

I was more amazed, though, to find out that the symptoms I had always associated with my thyroid were also possible symptoms of PCOS. He speculated that I had PCOS that whole time and that it likely developed around the time my hypothyroidism developed. But, because my doctors and I were always so focused on my thyroid nobody seemed to notice the rebel ovaries down there. The majority of my complaints arose in times when I was not on birth control, and birth control is a way of regulating PCOS so it is theorized that when not on birth control my PCOS ramped up, causing my symptoms to flare while my thyroid remained constant.

While it was frustrating to know that my doctor may have been able to find the root of not only my weight gain but also my infertility last December, it was also so freeing to finally have an explanation and understanding of it all. Knowing is half the battle, and it felt so good to finally know.

I think I've mentioned that this only reinforces how much of a miracle William is. I already knew, but this just reminded me that God had a perfect plan for William. He knew the issues inside my body and he knew when he wanted William born. He orchestrated all of the events for the miracle of life to transpire, and it couldn't be more apparent to me. This also offers reassurance that God has his hand in all of this now as well, and His plan is pure and perfect and we will all stand in awe of his power grace in the end.

What a wonderful weekend

This post is 4 days in the making - oops.

We had a fabulous weekend! This is not to take anything away from my California friends - I love my friends here and We're very blessed in the people we've met through work/church/the neighborhood. But there's something about spending time with an old friend. One who has known you since before you were even dating your husband, someone who you've known since her daughter (now a full on teenager) was William's age. It's awesome.

Brittany had a tax conference in San Francisco last week so we had planned for her to stay through the weekend and we'd head up there after work on Friday. By the time we got there it was bedtime for all, but we wanted to be able to get up and moving Saturday morning rather than waste precious daylight driving up there.

Saturday we were complete tourists. We started our day by having breakfast at one of the recommended breakfast spots in Brittany's tourist magazine. One of the cool things about San Francisco is how old it is - the famous restaurants have been around for decades and they're so unique. After breakfast we spent half an hour trying to figure out how best to catch a trolley - apparently a popular thing on weekends! But we finally caught one and headed down to ghiradelli square.

I think I expected more from ghiradelli square - but hey, they had chocolate - what else could I really expect?

William and Austin had fun running around and playing in the square, so I guess that was a good bonus too.

Somehow by the time we finished there it was already lunch time. I felt like we had just eaten, but we were all hungry so I guess that trolley ride took it all out of us. We relied again on Brittany's tourist book from her hotel and found a restaurant that claimed to have the best Irish coffee in the world. How could we not challenge that?

We were skeptical as we read the reviews - how could it be the best? Isn't it all the same? But when we walked in we noticed not a single person was drinking anything besides the Irish coffee. So it had to be something special right?

It was a weird structure for a restaurant - they do not seat customers, you seat yourself which means there are a ton of vulchers lurking around the tables. Also, if there are empty seats at someone else's table, you just pop a squat and make new friends. So, the 4 of us paired up with a group of 3 and stole a 7 top when it opened. It was pretty fun!

After lunch we went back to the trolley (good thing we bought a day pass) and headed back to the hotel. I had aspirations of Brittany and I sneaking down to union square while William napped, but what happened was we all 4 fell asleep - and I'm pretty sure William fell asleep last! Saturday afternoon nap...is there anything better???

After we all slowly woke up we...you guessed it...hopped back on the trolley to go down to the fisherman's wharf for dinner. William's parents, God bless them, didn't plan well for the weather so the poor child needed a new hat and new jacket.

What a big little minion I have!!!

We had dinner at an upstairs restaurant and had the perfect seats for the surprise fireworks at 8:30. William was so excited!

So, the day flew by and it seemed to revolve around food, but it was one of the best days. It was so refreshing to see Brittany and have all day to just talk and do nothing significant - it was so needed, and I loved every minute.

William Wednesday

I should really quit being surprised by William's manipulative and argumentative skills. But he gets me every time!

First, we went to a friend's house Sunday for football. He took toys to play with and at one point asked if he could play in the backyard. I said yes but told him he had to stay on the concrete because there wasn't grass, only dirt, so I didn't want him to get too dirty before we left. He said 'ok mommy I will' and went and played. 10 minutes later I walked outside and had trouble even finding the concrete beneath the mound of sand he had scooped over:

I said 'William you're so dirty!' And he said 'I'm on the concrete mommy'. Yes, yes you are. And clearly I dressed you appropriately for the day. Guess I better start saving for Harvard Law.

Last night we went to our friends' house. It was our small group night but instead of continuing with week 9 of our study, our leader wanted to have dinner and game night. We had a lot of fun and William loved playing with their daughter Elizabeth. He talks about her a lot and loves to go to her house to play. Usually he stays there with her and the babysitter so he was very comfortable in the house. 

They have three beautiful harps in their living room. The first time I saw them I thought to myself, 'oh man William would destroy those things if they were in our house'. Well, about 1.5 hours into our night I realized there was some pretty, yet random, music coming from behind me. I turned around to see William playing the harp. My heart jumped into my throat ad all I saw was his college fund being cashed out to buy a new harp, or at least repair a broken one. I said, 'William please do not play with that. It's not a toy and I don't have enough money to replace it if it breaks'.  He turned to me and said, 'Elizabeth's grandma says we can play like this' and proceeded to show me how to play it.

Elizabeth's grandmother babysat the first night he was there and apparently his listening ears were functioning just fine that night.

But, in addition to being a true manipulator, he's also a boy after his mommy's heart. Or at least a boy who wants to tug on the strings of my heart. I think I've shared that he likes to pick leaves for me. Some days when I pick him up from school he has a leaf in his cubby that he picked for me during the day. Some moms get flowers, some get mud pies; I get leaves! And you better believe I love every one. Well, Sunday on our walk to church from the parking lot he must have loved me extra because I got 4! 

I was instructed to keep them in my purse, so of course I did. They are my little love letters from my boy. He plays me like a fiddle. Or maybe a harp.

William Wednesday

The Voice has a song stuck in my head, and if you just change one word it applies to William's week:
This boy is on fire! (but you have to read fire like fye-ya)

He's been SO funny this week.  I am going to attempt to remember all of the little things, with a little help from my texts I sent to Austin.  I'll start with this morning and work my way backwards until I just can't remember anymore.

I usually go turn his light on in his room around 6:00 then give him 15-20 minutes to slowly wake up while I finish getting ready.  Then I go back in and get him out of bed.  Only today, when I went back in he wasn't there.  I went downstairs to see if I could find him and he was standing on the bench by the counter, where he sometimes eats breakfast.  I asked what he was doing and he said, "I am just waiting".  I told him we should go potty, but he informed me he already had.  So I asked, "Did you go in your pants or in the toilet?"  "Oh, in the garage"  WHAT?!  I asked what he meant by that and he said, "come see mommy.  i had to peepee mommy!"

I spent the next 15 minutes rotating between fighting my internal laughter, and being angry that he PEED IN THE GARAGE.  Boys will be boys I guess!

Austin has been on duty platoon this week which means we've seen very little of him.  It also means William and I get lots of special time just for us.  Monday when I picked him up he said he wanted to have dinner from a restaurant, so we went to Papa Chanos, his choice.  When we got there he saw a rather heavyset man and said, "mommy, who is that man with the big baby in his tummy?"..........how do you teach that??????????

Monday he was really on fire because I think I sent Austin about 10 different funny stories.  After dinner we went to Target to get a few things and I think I laughed the entire time.  He saw a young man who had a shaved head and everytime we passed him he said, "hey pop!"  The man looked nothing like pop (Herb is pop, fyi) but I guess his bald head had William convinced.  The guy eventually started responding by saying hi back!  One of the things we were at Target to do was to get Pop a birthday card.  William found one that sings, "do a little dance, make a little love, get down tonight" and he started dancing in the cart.  He said we needed to buy it for pop, and then he said he needed a new speaker for his radio in his room (radio=my old iPod, which had a speaker that is now deceased) and when he got a new speaker he needed that song on it.  Um - inappropriate much???

I know there's more, but as it turns out they're all just little silly things that had me cracking up but are probably lost in translation here :)  

Other than that we've had a great week!  I am loving this almost-4 age.  He's so funny and smart, fun to hang out with - a real blast.  He has been talking a lot about all of the exciting things we have coming up.  We have a visitor coming in 2 weekends, another the very next weekend, and then just 3 more weeks until we get to go to "the fun place" (the hunting lease...where the peeing outside was born and apparently never died...)  The end of the year is near and, as always, it's going to shape up to be a busy one!  But I'm really excited to spend it with my big big boy.

Love-Hate, hate-hate

I would say, after last night's terrible experience, 'all I have to say is I hope texans fans treat opposing fans with more respect' - but that's not entirely true. I have a lot more to say than just that.

But let's start there. I was appalled at a large bulk of the fans we encountered. I've been an opposing fan before, and I've heckled opposing fans before, but never have I felt like people's lives may be in danger for waving the flag of their preferred team. And I think at some point someone's life was in danger as the police swarmed and the whole north end of the stadium watched a fan fight instead of a football thrashing. I don't know if it was 49ers against texans in the stadium or if they were going after their own - either is very likely. But, the amount of cops in the big tailgating area of the parking lot really should have tipped me off to the fact that San Francisco is only marginally better than their counterparts across the bay. But they sure love for Oakland to take the heat!

I'll move on. Not because I'm out of things to say, but because that wasn't the most disgusting part of my evening. No, that came at the hands of the people I paid way too much money to see. 

Last year I had a love-hate relationship with football season. I loved it; I hated the anxiety, but I loved it. In the end I always had at least one win on the weekend between my teams, and even weekends with losses had glimmers of hope. This year though, all my hopes are riding on a 20 year old kid with behavior issues(who sure can throw the football!) because the texans sure aren't doing anything for me. I'm sick of hating other teams simply because they can execute an entire football game. I'm sick of hoping someone breaks a foot bone to ensure they're out for the season but they'll be fine. And I'm sure sick of standing behind Matt schaub because 'he's our guy'.

I saw someone's post on Facebook about how she feels bad for schaub and the verbal thrashing he's taking. She reminded everyone he's just a man trying to do his job and we should treat him with love just as we would if he was our cousin or brother. I agree - sort of. He doesn't need our verbal abuse, but I can say for certain if he were my cousin he'd hear about it from me. I don't think we need to go so far as to have jersey burning parties or stalk him in his neighborhood or any other form of hateful treatment, but I certainly don't see why he's been left in the game after his dismal performance over the last 4 weeks. He's just a man trying to do his job, I get that. But if a man isn't doing his job well, he needs to be replaced. At least for the time being.

He's not alone though. While he is a huge part of why we are 2-3 ( 4 weeks throwing a TD to the wrong team won't help you much) he's not the only one. Our play calling is atrocious. I've been a Kubiak fan since he got hired but I'm pretty sick of his poor and always predictable play calling. It's not working coach - change your tune. And while most fans will stop there and say those 2 are our problem, I think it goes deeper than that. Arian foster needs to get over his ego and stop whining on the sidelines because Ben Tate is getting some playing time. (True story, I watched it). Ed Reed may as well be on the bench cause he sure doesn't seem to care. He dooped our organization into thinking he had one more good year, then 'somehow' needed hip surgery, and he runs around the field like he's playing thanksgiving backyard football before he stuffs himself with turkey. He is not the Ed Reed of Baltimore, and he sure doesn't seem to care. He just needed to get as much cash in his pocket before retirement as possible. Thanks Houston, mission accomplished. And should we talk about special teams? Can I ask who told Keyshawn Martin to run kick returns out when he started 5+ yards deep in the end zone? It worked one out of five times. He needs to know his team and know himself enough to know when to kneel the ball. He's not trindon Holliday, he needs to play like he knows that.

Ahh, trindon Holliday. My heart hurts every time I see him flash across sports center. One of the biggest mistakes kubiak has made.

So - we have a lot of problems. It's not just Matt Schaub, but I bet even with the other problems Tom Brady or Peyton manning could make wins out of it. I waited patiently while we built our franchise and I cheered my heart out as we celebrated 6 wins, 7 wins, 8 wins. But to have a team with this amount of talent and be 2-3!?? This is ridiculous.

I wish I could take it with a grain of salt like my husband who continued to banter with the few friendly fans we could find. I wish I could be like my brother and say all games are worth seeing in person, no matter what the outcome. But I guess I'm more of a sore loser than I would like to be.  I wish I could just quit caring. I wish I could quit watching. But, I know next Sunday I'll turn on my tv and watch with hopes that we've figured something out. Because even though it seems to be a hate-hate relationship these days, I can't ignore the fact that I love the game.

Out of the mouths of babes

Last night we had our small group and William stayed with the babysitter they coordinated. The leaders of the group had been using this sitter so they arranged for her to watch any kids of the group (which for now is just their one and our one) She watches the kids at their house while we are at the neighborhood community center down the street. It works great and William loves their daughter. She's 1 and he told me all week he wanted to go back to her house and that he has to be very gentle with her cause she's a baby. 

I asked the sitter how he was and she said he was perfect - duh :) she said she asked him if he had any siblings. They had this conversation:

Do you have any siblings?

Little by little

What? What does that mean?

Little by little.

Do you have a little brother or sister?

No

Is there one in your mommy's tummy?

Not yet. Soon. Maybe February.

While I sure hope I don't have to wait until February I really don't know where he got any of that! Don't know if it's funny or intuitive or both. But he has been telling us lately that he wants a baby sister and a baby brother. And the baby brother will be named Case. He has voiced an opinion on a baby sister's name but I'm betting it's just a matter of time. Sounds like he's got it all planned out!

What would have been right?

I swear I saw Reagan last night.

Don't go thinking I'm nuts. I swear it was him! I was driving home from the gym and saw a big fat orange tabby sitting on a homeless man's cart. I almost ran myself off the road trying to get a good look to see if it was him, but thankfully my brain told me to steer straight and keep going.

And then I started to cry. My homeless cat, who we've long boasted is our home protection agent, is living with a homeless man in Monterey. I called Austin to tell him and he said that when I got home we could all go back and see if it was Reagan. I got home, he had Reagan's carrier in hand, and off we went.

Ok. Pause. Let's think this through. What on earth did I expect to happen? We were going to walk up to a homeless man, demand he give us his cat, load the 25 pound beast of an animal (he may be pushing 30 now) into a Carrier and take him home? As if he remembers me? As if he wants to live with me??? After all, he did run away to begin with. 

And what about diseases? Health issues? Reintegrating animals? And how on earth did I think we'd convince a homeless man (likely mentally unstable) that the cat was, in fact, mine?

Clearly we didn't think all of that through as we drove back to the scene of the sighting.

As we drove up we saw the man covering the cat with a blanket. Austin did have a moment of clarity as he pointed out the likelihood that it was not Reagan. He was basing this solely on the fact that the cat was sitting...still...on a cart. Reagan wasn't one to be contained. But, maybe he was drugged? Yes - that was my argument back. It must be Reagan because how many 25 pound orange tabbies live in Monterey? It can only be one.

So Austin opened his wallet and said 'ok. If it's Reagan I can offer him 25 bucks and hope he gives him up'. What a husband...he was willing to empty his wallet for a cat he never even liked. Anything to stop the tears, I'm sure.

He got out of the car, approached the man, and not 15 seconds later he was back in the car. He said he had asked the man what kind of cat it was, the man said North American. He then asked if he could see it and the man responded, 'I really can't, I've got to get back to my program' as he pointed to his headphones.

How rude!!!! And yet, what did I expect? I cried most of the way home and wished I had just never seen the cat. Maybe it was Reagan, maybe it wasn't, but it sure wasn't mine. Would I have been wrong to try to take it? Or just stupid for thinking a homeless man would choose $25 over his pet?

I miss my Reagan beagan. If it was him, I'm at least glad to know he has someone who loves him...and sort of takes care of him.

What would have been right?

I swear I saw Reagan last night.

Don't go thinking I'm nuts. I swear it was him! I was driving home from the gym and saw a big fat orange tabby sitting on a homeless man's cart. I almost ran myself off the road trying to get a good look to see if it was him, but thankfully my brain told me to steer straight and keep going.

And then I started to cry. My homeless cat, who we've long boasted is our home protection agent, is living with a homeless man in Monterey. I called Austin to tell him and he said that when I got home we could all go back and see if it was Reagan. I got home, he had Reagan's carrier in hand, and off we went.

Ok. Pause. Let's think this through. What on earth did I expect to happen? We were going to walk up to a homeless man, demand he give us his cat, load the 25 pound beast of an animal (he may be pushing 30 now) into a Carrier and take him home? As if he remembers me? As if he wants to live with me??? After all, he did run away to begin with. 

And what about diseases? Health issues? Reintegrating animals? And how on earth did I think we'd convince a homeless man (likely mentally unstable) that the cat was, in fact, mine?

Clearly we didn't think all of that through as we drove back to the scene of the sighting.

As we drove up we saw the man covering the cat with a blanket. Austin did have a moment of clarity as he pointed out the likelihood that it was not Reagan. He was basing this solely on the fact that the cat was sitting...still...on a cart. Reagan wasn't one to be contained. But, maybe he was drugged? Yes - that was my argument back. It must be Reagan because how many 25 pound orange tabbies live in Monterey? It can only be one.

So Austin opened his wallet and said 'ok. If it's Reagan I can offer him 25 bucks and hope he gives him up'. What a husband...he was willing to empty his wallet for a cat he never even liked. Anything to stop the tears, I'm sure.

He got out of the car, approached the man, and not 15 seconds later he was back in the car. He said he had asked the man what kind of cat it was, the man said North American. He then asked if he could see it and the man responded, 'I really can't, I've got to get back to my program' as he pointed to his headphones.

How rude!!!! And yet, what did I expect? I cried most of the way home and wished I had just never seen the cat. Maybe it was Reagan, maybe it wasn't, but it sure wasn't mine. Would I have been wrong to try to take it? Or just stupid for thinking a homeless man would choose $25 over his pet?

I miss my Reagan beagan. If it was him, I'm at least glad to know he has someone who loves him...and sort of takes care of him.

I'm published!

Ok - so it's not a book, and it's not on the most riveting of topics...but I am published nonetheless. I wrote an article for a local magazine and my boss and I are the named authors. How exciting! I'll be doing another one in the winter issue of the magazine...maybe one day I'll write something a little more intriguing :)

One of the Hard Days

This post isn't an easy one to write, and it may not be an easy one to read. But, when I started sharing about my PCOS and subsequent issues I said I was doing it in hopes to a.) remove the stigma associated with fertility issues, and b.) possibly help someone else who may be going through the same thing. how can I do that if I don't share the good, the bad and the ugly?  So today I will share with you one of my worst days throughout this process.

One night around my birthday I was blindsided with news of an unexpected pregnancy. I can't begin to explain all of the facts surrounding this pregnancy, but it was 100% unplanned, partially unwanted, and could turn out to be a very unhealthy situation. And, in my human mind, I instantly began to scream out to God about the injustice. Injustice to me, injustice to the expecting parents, injustice to the baby. 

I was home alone with William on this particular night. Austin was working late that entire week and had been getting home around 10:00. So, I had to do my best to hold my composure long enough to get William bathed and into bed before completely losing my mind. My efforts failed, though, as I found myself crying uncontrollably while William played in the bath. Then, to dig the dagger a little deeper, William and I had this conversation:

Mommy what's wrong?

Don't worry baby, mommy is just sad.

Is it my fault?

No, baby, it is not your fault.

Is it because I went peepee in my pants?

No William, you could never make me this sad by going peepee in your pants. You didn't do anything wrong, it's not your fault that I'm sad.

Is it Dada's? (--dada did play a role, but I was not about to project that onto our child)

No, it's not Dada's.

Is it Jesus's fault?

Now, I WANTED so badly to scream 'yes! Yes it is Jesus's fault!' But by God's grace I had one tiny shred of self control as I told William that no, it was not Jesus's fault. The he asks,

Is it William Timothy Blair's fault?

The knife kept twisting.  It was an agonizing evening and I felt more alone than I have felt in my entire life. I felt isolated from Austin, I reached out to a friend only to feel more alone, and I could not seem to pull myself together for the sake of my son. I was a wreck.

After I finally got him to bed I went to bed myself. At 8:15 I crawled into bed and cried. I held my phone the entire time, trying to think of who I should reach out to, but unable to make myself call on a friend. I know there are dozens of people who would have loved to have answered that call on that night, but I didn't even have the strength to do it. I already felt isolated by 3 people in this very situation, I wasn't willing to put myself out there again. 

Then, about 45 minutes into my sob-fest, my phone buzzed. A text message from my cousin. Chelsea and I talk fairly regularly, but we hadn't talked in a few days at that point. She was just texting to say hi and happy early birthday. Why was she texting to say happy early birthday? Why not just say happy birthday on the actual day? Well, the worldly answer is that she didn't want to forget and it was on her mind. The Godly answer, though, is that Jesus wanted to use her to reach me. He knew I needed support and above all I needed Him, so He used my cousin as a vessel.

We talked about randomness for a little while and then when I was ready I told her how I felt Jesus had called her to contact me to help me in that moment. I began to tell her the story of my evening and how I got to the point of crying alone in my bed. At the end of it I told her that what I really wanted to say when William asked if it was Jesus's fault was, 'yes, it is. Jesus has the power to change this and He hasn't because just like Austin, He has abandoned me'

Now, I know that to not be true. About Austin and about Jesus. But on that night I wasn't so clear. I was vulnerable and satan used that to get to me, as he so often does.

My cousin's reply, instantaneous and strong was, 'He will never leave you. Deuteronomy 31:8'

That's all she said, but that's all I needed.

That was by far the ugliest day I've had throughout this ordeal, maybe in my life. I don't know that I've ever felt like Jesus had deserted me like I did that night. The feelings of failure and inadequacy coupled with solitude can be very powerful and painful. I felt inadequate in so many ways, and if I could sum up infertility with one word that would be it; inadequate.

But that was also a turning point in this journey for us. After Austin got home that night we talked about the role he played and how his efforts to protect me really came across as him abandoning me. I know that was never his intention and all he wanted was to shield me from pain. He knows, now, that he can't shield me from the pain that will come with this. All he can do is hold my hand through it. It wasn't until that night that we were able to truly walk together in this rather than as two people who were hurting. 

We are still hurting. We are still lost as to why this is God's plan for us. But we are hurting together, which makes the world of a difference. 

God Works

So, if you were paying attention, God did not reward my commitment with a win for the aggies. He did, however, reward my commitment and that's all I could really ask for.

He also works in mysterious ways. We have been talking for awhile about joining a D group. (Home team, small group, life group - pick your name) Our church strongly encourages participation and plugging yourself into the church family in this way. We hadn't ever gone to one but kept talking about it. So, last week (not yesterday, 8 days ago) we looked at the d group schedule to find a couples group. We found one Tuesday and one Wednesday. Wednesday's group is lead by the kids church leaders so initially I was drawn to that one. Always good to know someone rather than walk into a room of strangers right? I talked to Doree about it and she was happy we were thinking of coming, but she also said the Tuesday group has a lot of parents of kids william's age. We said we'd think about it, but I fully intended to join her group despite her recommendation. 

Saturday at the conference I was wearing my aggie jersey (duh) and one of the girls at the checkin table said 'hey! Another aggie!' As she pulled her legs out from behind the table to show me her aggie boots. She was the most adorable 9 month pregnant person that ever walked the earth I think, and I loved her boots. Irrelevant, but fun to note. Anyway, she introduced herself, we talked for a few minutes and shared 'whoops' and 'howdy's' throughout the day. On Sunday I was looking for her after the service to introduce her to Austin but I didn't see her. 

Then, as we were leaving we stopped at the D group table again. We were looking at the schedule again - you know, in case it changed - and tried to decide what we'd do with William during d group. A guy walked over and introduced himself to Austin. He said he looked like someone he had served with a few years back, then asked Austin if he was in the military. Austin said army and he said 'oh ok I'm a marine'. At that point I noticed his ring and said, 'and an aggie!' He asked if we were in a d group, as I was holding the schedule clipboard, so we explained our situation. He said, 'my wife Kristen and I lead one on Tuesday nights and we are hoping to arrange childcare soon. For now everyone takes care of their own but we are working on it'

It all clicked. Doree had recommended we join a small group which we were planning to avoid. Then the husband and wife both sought out conversation with us and made connections unrelated to us joining the group. We thought it was pretty clear God wanted us to be a part of this group of young families, so we are excited to go tomorrow for the first time. Hopefully childcare will be worked out soon but we can make due in the meantime. 

This is Serious

A few months ago our pastor announced they were putting on a live simulcast of a Beth Moore retreat. If you don't know who that is, Beth Moore is a women's bible study leader - essentially. She's amazing. She's nationally famous for getting to the heart of the word and truth, being funny in the meantime and keeping herself real. She's awesome. So for $20 how could I pass the day up? I signed up and paid as soon as we were allowed, and never looked back.

Until last Sunday when our pastor said "This is a reminder about our upcoming Beth Moore retreat on Saturday..."

Wait. THIS Saturday? I'm scheduled to be at something from 8:30-4:30 on this Saturday?!?!

This Saturday Texas A&M hosts Alabama. At 12:30PT. The game all aggies have been waiting for since January. There could not be a bigger conflict of interest.

But I'm no fool who would blatantly pick football over God. Where would my relationship with God be if I was faced with such a clear-cut decision and didn't choose Him?

I am missing the best football game of the year???????? My heart hurts.

But, my amazing husband has agreed to record the game, not watch it so as not to accidentally be a spoiler, and watch it with me when I get home at 4:30. I hope I'd do the same for him!  And, while he's avoiding the TV, I will be avoiding my phone like the plague. It'll be turned off, actually. I mean, #1 ill be busy right? But also I just can't risk having something spoil the outcome. I haven't been anxious all week to have the game spoiled before I get to see it! That'd be such a waste. So, if you're looking for me on Saturday I will be in a hole from 8:30-8:30 probably. Poor iPhone won't know what to do with itself.

And...if God sees fit...I'd be ok with Him rewarding my devotion with a win.

Oh come on...like you never pray for your football team, or try to barter for W's. it hasn't worked in the past, but I'm just saying - maybe He'll look favorably on my good decision. 

Gig 'em aggies! BTHO alabama.

A Mini William Wednesday

Just 2 little stories for ya before I get back to cranking on my September 15 tax returns.  (yeah - i know - they're due in 5 days.  just a tad bit crammed into the last minute)

On the way home from school today William asked me, "What's that thing mommy?"  He was referring to a new rearview-mirror-dangle-decoration-thing that I put in Melvin.  I bought it years ago and had it in my trailblazer until I sold it.  I guess I put it somewhere really, really safe because it lasted through the year 2011, made it from Colorado to California, and then it has been hiding ever since.  Just found it!  But, ever since I put it in Melvin I've almost regretted it because William asks what it is at least once a day.  So, after his question of the day, this conversation took place:

It's a decoration
Yeah but what's its name?  What's it called?
...thinking...thinking...Um, Crystal.  brilliant mommy, there's a crystal hanging from it.  good name.
Oh, yeah, cause it has a crystal...HEY...MOMMY...we are learning about the letter R!  Crystal has an R in it!  First we learned the letter F but now we are learning the letter R like rrrrrrr.  There's an R in Crystal!
Wow, good William!  Sometimes it's hard to find letters in the middle of words, good job.
Yeah, its hard.
What word starts with F?
Oh MOMMMMMY, I don't KNOW.  This is hard.  But you know what?  My pinky hurts.

My little genius/ADD child.  He just doesn't ever know which one he wants to be.

Second story is shorter and sweeter.  

At bedtime we were reading books and he had chosen his Zookeeper book.  The last line of the book is, "We want to learn more about taking care of the animals.  That way we can be zookeepers when we grow up".  After I read that line William said, "yeah they will be zookeepers when they grow up but not me"

"No?  You don't think you'd like to be a zookeeper?"
"No, I don't think so"
"Oh, what would you like to be?"
"A firefighter.  I will have to be very brave to fight fires.  I will fight fires for my town.  I will have to help people."
"yes, you would.  Are you a very brave boy?"
"No, not yet.  I will be brave when I am bigger.  Then I will be a firefighter"



Anyone else wonder if he knows firefighter starts with F and has two R's in it???

Quantifying Love

When I went to Chicago a couple months ago I had lots of time to talk to Aunt Mandy. That's one of the best parts of our time spent together, we always have great conversations. We got onto the topic of infertility and Mandy brought up a common struggle people have when dealing with fertility problems.

Putting God's love in a box. Telling God, 'if you love me, you'll give me a baby'. By doing this, we not only seem to think we can make grand demands of God, we also limit what God can really do. Mandy said it much better than I can, but essentially we are telling God we will only accept and know His love through this one avenue. Yet He has so many more ways in which He wants to show His love!  He built the heavens and the earth for us to enjoy. He blesses us beyond measure, and yet so often when we are struggling (be it fertility or otherwise) we decide that unless God does this one thing on our own agenda, the rest of it is for nothing.

Now, I'm not saying we don't appreciate His abundant blessings. We just suffer from tunnel vision sometimes and the trials of this life often make that worse.

For me, though, God's love wasn't what I was attempting to quantify. It was His faith and trust in me. I am, at times, a bit of a perfectionist and when I decide to do something I aim to do it perfectly. I aim to be better than I even think possible. With that, I yearn for tangible evidence that my efforts have succeeded. I long to know that the people at the top of whatever my mission may be (band, work, family, etc) are pleased. I want them to be proud of what I've done and have faith that I can do more, and do it even better. 

The problem is, I have attempted to define how God's faith and trust in me will be measured. It has been His greatest calling in my life for me to be William's mom and I have determined that if I do that job well enough He'll grant me the blessing again. Unfortunately, in my mind, the inverse is true too. 

If I do not do this job well enough, I will not be given another baby.

I think I'm a good mom, but I know I'm not perfect. How could I be? I also know God doesn't expect me to be. But somehow the lines get blurred through all of the pain and frustration and too many times I've found myself crying, 'what am I doing so wrong with William that you won't allow me to do it again?'

I don't struggle much with quantifying God's love for me. I think my dad's battle with cancer and the fact that I lost him at 13 helped me understand long ago that His love comes in His ways.  We can not measure it by our own desires. His trust, though. I thought I could define his trust. I thought I was missing the mark as a mom in earning that trust, but really I was missing the mark in understanding it.

My Favorite Month

I used to think December was my favorite month. Break from school, lots of family time, middle of winter, and Jesus' birth. How can you top that?

Well, to be clear, you can't beat His birth. But December has been replaced. I realized last week that my favorite month is September.

In Texas September finally starts to see some of the edge come off the heat. A little. In Colorado September has the most beautiful aspen trees' leaves turning colors. It also may offer the first glimpse of snow. And I've learned that in Monterey September sees the fog lifting and offers some of the most wonderful temperatures.

I wouldn't say I'm 100% in love with Monterey weather, but in September - man. It's gorgeous. I've loved my sunrise view and dinners outside on the patio. I can only hope it continues through the 'Indian summer' I've always heard about.

But aside from the weather...

FOOTBALL IS HERE!!!!!!!!!

I am so excited! I'm struggling to keep my anxiety in check. With grand expectations in college and the NFL this year, it's stressful to sit back and hope they can keep it alive. This is new territory for me - rooting for two top 10 teams! I'm just hoping and praying it can last.

But - even if it doesn't - I'm proud to be an aggie and a Texan and I love my football teams! I've been waiting since February for the good ol' pig skin and its finally here. 

I love September!

Do you think the IRS would be willing to move the extension deadline to 8.15 though??? Guess we can't have it all.

A fun visit!

Two weeks ago today my mom and Alfredo flew into town for a week. We had such a nice visit! William was excited all week leading up to their visit and couldn't wait for them to take him to see planes. He asked every day if it was planes day! But after it was all said and done I don't think that was even the highlight of the trip for him.

Thursday he stayed home with Yaya while papa and dada played golf. He showed him the park and I'm sure got spoiled all day. Once I got home we all went to a Japanese hibachi grill for dinner. William has been a few times and always likes it but this time the fire caught him by surprise and he was in my lap so fast I didn't even know what had happened! He apparently doesn't like to be startled! 

Friday after the adults spent a day whale watching and wine tasting we picked William up from school. We debated putting off our movie night until Sunday but William wouldn't have it. He had it in his head it was Friday and there was no changing that! So we had popcorn for dinner and saw planes. It was a cute movie. Not as good as Cars (if you're not immersed In kids movies, planes is somewhat of a cars remake or spinoff) Not as good as the other movies we saw this summer either but still pretty cute. And William was happy, so that's what matters right?

Saturday we all drove up to San Mateo to visit Joy. William didn't want much to do with eating lunch, but he loves running around her courtyard. He'd do that all day if we'd let him! We had a nice visit with her and I know she loved having us. After we left, Austin and I stayed in town for the night while Yaya and papa took William back home. I hear they had a blast and William told me that we could stay out of town anytime we wanted. How sweet of him :)

Sunday we took them down to Carmel by the sea to see the beach. Generally Carmel beach is about 5-10 degrees warmer and exponentially sunnier than seaside, plus the town is so cute. But this was a rare day when we would have done better staying in seaside. It wasn't bad though, and William had fun running back and forth from the waters edge with Yaya. 

We had a nice dinner at home Sunday night and got regrouped for the week. Yaya and papa spent Monday on Austin's bike riding the coastline while the rest of us did our normal Monday routine. I think they got the better deal :) Monday we all went to Austin's last intramural softball game - they've been playing for a couple of months and William and I have enjoyed going to one or two games a week. William made lots of friends on the team (duh) and loved to cheer for them and call them by their nicknames (party boy, bang bang, dragon 6...) Bang bang was his favorite and he loved yelling 'aww good try ban bang!' They made it a couple of rounds into the playoffs but it ended last Monday - and though it was fun, I'm not too disappointed. It had gotten demanding on our time!

Tuesday morning yaya and papa left. William did good saying goodbye - he's gotten really good at people coming and going. While he's always excited to see them, he's never too distraught when it's over. Which is good!

And - since it's Wednesday I should report - William has had mercy on me and our laundry flow this week. He hasn't had any accidents since last Tuesday when I broke down! He also asked if he could sleep in big boy britches on Monday night so we gave it a try...2 nights in a row and he's woken up dry :) it's been happy potty times in the Wallis house. Hallelujah!

William Wednesday

It has been over a month since I last wrote William Wednesday.  Someone should be beating me over the head.  Today I'll mix William's post with one of the lessons I've learned through this PCOS stuff.

During the diagnostic phase of my meetings my doctor and I went through years of my medical history.  I'll get more into that in another post, it's really interesting to me, but basically he thinks I've had PCOS since college.  Naturally, my first question was "then how did I get pregnant with William so quickly?" to which he said, "babies are miracles".

Babies are miracles.

I knew I had some cycle issues before William, I just didn't know they could have hindered my ability to get pregnant.  I got pregnant the first month we tried and apparently that's the best time for someone on PCOS.  The further away you get from birth control the more irregular you may become, so that first month is sometimes the best because everything is usually still in sync.  Apparently for me, it was.

God knew William Timothy Wallis needed to be born February 2, 2010.  He had a plan.  William's life was written long ago and the miracle of conception and childbirth occurred perfectly in His plan.  I can't even put into words how miraculous that is.

My little miracle has been up to the same old, same old since I last wrote: growing, learning, running around like a maniac, and stealing my heart on a daily basis.  He is SO full of energy.  Are all 3 year olds like this?  I would guess so, but I really don't know.  He's nonstop all the time!  Go, go, go.

He seems to be creeping his way out of the terrible 3's.  Slowly, but we're getting there.  He has his tantrums pretty well under control.  He doesn't argue nearly as much as he did a couple of months ago.  He really seems to have outgrown that transition.  (for a short time I'm sure)  I can't believe he's almost 4!!!!

He has started a math enrichment class at school.  They meet on Tuesdays and Thursdays and work on basic math skills.  They started with sorting and counting, which his teacher told us he clearly already had mastered.  He still enjoys it a lot and he counts higher and higher now, so I can still see growth and improvement. He always seems excited on math mornings, which I love. After math we may try the language arts program or the Spanish program - wish we could do all 3 but everything has a price right? Sheesh.

A couple of weeks ago a coworker of mine offered us tickets to the monster truck show. I had work to do so I let the boys have a special day to themselves. William loved it. He lasted almost the entire 4 hours and he's still telling me stories about the show! He says next year I get to go too :) here he is on a monster truck ride with dada.

The highlight of the past month with him, for me, was Relay. 

He was such an angel - behaved perfectly, listened to miss Casey, listened to dada and mommy, loved sleeping in the tent, and he spoke in the microphone with all the bravery in the world! He loved being on stage with Austin and me during the various ceremonies and announcements, and during the luminaria speech I asked him a question and he leaned in to the microphone to answer. Maybe stage fright doesn't come until later in life, or maybe he just has an incredible amount of confidence. I don't know but I sure was proud of him!

But hey, I'm always proud of him. Even on days like yesterday when he causes me to write blog posts like I did...

Is this all moms? Or, do I have special DNA?

After the birth of her twins, when asked what the most shocking part of motherhood had been so far, Jennifer Lopez said "the mom guilt".  I remember reading that when I was nowhere near motherhood and thinking, "yeah, I bet moms feel guilty about going back to work".  Then I continued flipping through the magazine, not giving it much more thought.

About 12 hours after William was born I had my first pang of mom guilt and I have to say - nothing feels quite like it.  Nothing can make you feel more under qualified or like more of a failure than the inability to do everything 100% perfect for your child.  I know how ridiculous that sounds.  I know that we can't ever be 100% perfect - but anything shy of that feels like failure, and its killer.  I've had some pretty heavy bouts of mom guilt over the past few months and 2 weeks ago I was on the brink of writing a blog about it.  My plan, then, was to ask at the end for someone to write me the magic potion to fix the problem!  I think God had some mercy on me as he relieved that guilt for a couple of weeks.  But, it was just a short reprieve and now its back.  So, after reading quite a few blogs out there about the mom guilt, and mom comparisons, and mom failures - I decided I'd better take a stab at what I attempted to start two weeks ago.

William refuses to be potty trained.  There.  I said it.  I have been so hesitant to say it because once I type it out here in blog world, it can't be kept secret.  We can't hide it or mask it or pretend it's not there.  Everyone knows.  Let me take you back...

A year ago his teachers said he was ready to start potty training, and boy were they right!  He got it down really fast and was really good at it.  We did sticker charts and he earned prizes and as the charts began to grow he continued to succeed.  He was about 90% potty trained when we went to Texas for Christmas and then by the time we went back in February for Maizeanne's wedding I was ready to say he was fully potty trained.

But then something happened right when we got back.  Something that would have me lose sleep at night for at least half of a year trying to discern just exactly what that something was.

Was it because he turned 3?  Was it because I instantly starting working 10-12 hour days, 6 days a week for 10 weeks?  Was it because his teachers started talking about moving him up to the next classroom and he was afraid of change?  Was it later because Austin went to Arizona for 2 months?

Despite all of the analyzing I've done I have settled with the opinion that it was just plain stubbornness.  I don't know why he wants to be stubborn about the potty.  I don't know why he needs to pee in his pants to feel like he's in control.  But he does.  We've begged, bribed, rewarded, punished - we've tried everything under the sun (but if you have new ideas I am openly welcoming parenting advice...won't happen every day).  In the end, he just decides when he wants to be potty trained and when he wants to have accidents, or "purposefuls" as I call them.  15 days ago I came home and saw that Austin had removed ALL of William's toys from his play area.  Even his new toy shelf!  William had 3 accidents that day at school and Austin was fed up.  William was told he would earn one toy per day that he kept his pants clean.  For the next 6 days he kept his pants clean and he woke up with dry pullups every day.  At Relay for Life he behaved SO well and did so good, so the day after Relay we told him he had earned all of his toys back.  You should have seen his excitement!  It was bigger than Christmas.  He continued to be accident-free the entire week following Relay and while YayaPapa were in town visiting.  He was doing GREAT!  

Then yesterday when Austin went to pick him up he found he had 2 accidents.

And 2 more today.

Nothing has been more of a parenting challenge than potty training and I feel like an utter failure.  William is a smart, smart boy.  His teachers have told me since he was 6 months old how advanced he is.  He can form sentences better than some adults.  His logical thought processes are astounding.  He mastered most of his current class curricular goals before we even lived in California.  He is learning to read sight-words, knows how to spell a handful of words by memory, is learning simple addition...I could go on and on about how bright he is, and I often do.  He knows how to use the potty.  He knows when to use the potty.  He is choosing to have accidents, and for the life of me I can not figure out why.  More importantly, I can not figure out how to stop it.  I find myself looking at moms in Target of babies around 2 who are already potty trained and wondering "what did she do that I can't do?" 

Which then brings me to the second-worst mom conundrum I've found: jealous comparisons.  The comparisons started at the very beginning and I was ready for some of them.  I was ready for the working mom/stay at home mom battle.  I was ready for the breast feeding/bottle feeding battle.  I was armed and ready to defend my position on both, and I knew it was a battle that had been fought for ages.

What I didn't prepare myself for was the constant measuring-up we do.  Do we all do it?  Is it every mom?  Or just the really blessed ones with the crazy-psycho-analytic genes?  I'd like to be in company with all of the other moms out there, but I'd hope for your sake I'm just that special.  I see the moms at my work who have their hair and makeup done every day for work, who have the cutest clothes from the best stores, and I think to myself, "How on earth does she find time to shop for HERSELF and do her HAIR and her MAKEUP every single day?".  I've been talking about buying more new clothes since my shopping spree at nordstroms...10 months ago.  I see the military wives who don't work and I wonder how they can make it financially when I seem to think we'd be in the street corner if I didn't work.  I see the moms at the gym who are in far better shape than I am and I wonder why on earth I can't seem to make time to workout as often as they do.  I see the kids at the birthday parties eating broccoli and carrots while my child insists on "kid" food (I only have my own palate to blame here).  I see the pinterest moms who are doing all of the crafts all of the time while I have all but given up on pinterest because I can't even find time to look.  I see the homeschooling moms who are in playgroups and clubs and teach lessons and structure entire grade-school curriculums.  I CAN'T EVEN GET MY KID TO PEE IN THE TOILET 100% OF THE TIME.  How do these moms run these ships?

How is it that they have all figured things out which I can't even begin to work on?  And the sucker punch at the end: is this why I can't have another baby?  Have a failed my test?  I can't even do it with one.

But then I wonder: while I'm sitting here looking at all of those other moms, is there one somewhere looking at me?  Does she think my parenting is under control?  Is she fooled into believing I have it all figured out?  And, if so, does that mean I'm a fool too for thinking these other moms have it down pat?

I don't know why motherhood comes with guilt the size of Texas deep down in your gut, and I don't know why we feel like we have to measure ourselves against all of these other moms.  I have it on my list of questions to ask God one day.  But until then, I've got to come up with a way to set some of it free.  To let it go.  I am not the perfect mom and I know that no matter how hard I try, I never will be.  I have made countless mistakes so far and I will make exponentially more for the rest of my life.  I know this.  And yet, each time I do it is the disappointment of a lifetime.  I was right; I can not get my kid to pee in the toilet.  At this point, only William can make William pee in the toilet.  I just have to figure out how to allow myself to be ok with the fact that I am not the world's best potty training mom and instead be happy that I may be the world's best book-reading mom. (or at least in the top 3)  William may not be potty trained when textbooks say he should be, but I've read him books since the day he came home from the hospital and he truly treasures our book time every night.  Most days he even picks me over Dada!  I'm not good at everything, but I'm good at some things.  I just have to learn to be ok with that.