Blogger's block

Keeping with my usual pattern of starting a journal and not finishing, I've been neglecting even the blogosphere.  Frustration has set in which makes it even harder to get back into it.  Everyday, there is always at least one crazy or precious thing that happens that I want to always remember--but somewhere in between all the chaos and details that have to be addressed just to be able to sit down and type, my motivation to do anything other than veg-out on the couch during naptime is an overwhelming temptation. 

I need one of those voice-activated keyboards and just narrate my day for the record....maybe even include a soundtrack in the background for effect.

Take today, for example:
feeding Aidan inevitably led into a few rounds of "apples and bananas", which caused Connor to erupt into a fit of laughter after he yells, "what's a ban-ii-n-ii?", and then Aidan laughed, which led to me and him being covered in fruit and oatmeal.

And, seeing Richard give me one of those "I love you so much and I'm so glad your here" looks before he kisses me and walks out the door could be dubbed over with "just.you.know.why....why you and I....know true love ways" (love love love Buddy Holly).

What about later today, when our power went out for a few hours--Connor started running around the house flipping all the light switches and opening and closing the refrigerator door, amazed that no light came on....and a little weirded out that the "mens will have to come to [our] house to fix it"....I could totally hear REM chanting "it's the end of the world as we know it".

My favorite songs, however, on this life album are the cacophonic, yodel-ly, and often hear-splitting "music" that my two little budding composers perform for me on a daily basis. 

My Big Boy is 3!

March 31st, Connor turned 3 years old.  I can't believe that it's been three years.

 I can remember those little fists and feet pushing against my growing belly.   And, I was so proud of my pregnant tummy when I got to start wearing those maternity clothes.  It was like a badge of honor.  My baby.  I couldn't believe that God was giving us a baby.                                          

The picture below was taken the day before I went into labor. 
I can remember that night Richard took my cellphone with him to the Poetry Festival that was going on that

weekend at Baylor. Richard still doesn't own a cell and, then, he really didn't even know how to answer the thing when it rang. 

Well, I got a call from a patient--I was on call--and had to go out to their house to fix an IV pump.

I tried to call Richard on his cell phone to let him know that I'd be gone if he tried to call--no answer after three tries.  I figured that he couldn't hear it ringing at the loud reception or either he just didn't know how to answer it.  I waited a minute or two for him to call back, just in case. 

When I got back, he met me at the door with a paniced look on his face.  He'd seen the three missed calls and tried to call home; but, when there was no answer, he'd left the reception and raced home expecting to find me "passed out on the floor in labor" or "bleeding out, trying to get to the hospital alone". 

He was so nervous about how he would "perform" in his first role as "daddy".  That night, getting home, he burned about a half of a tank of gas zooming from Baylor to our house (about a 6 mile trip)!

                                                                                                                                                                                                  

Lo and behold!  the next morning at around 7am, my water broke!  I'd gotten up around 4 am, couldn't sleep--nothing unusual at that point--and had dozed back off on the den couch when it happened.    

Honestly, I thought that I had become incontinent!  

Richard jumped up from the bed when he heard me frantically run into the bathroom.  When I, embarrassingly, told him what (I thought) had happened, he wasn't so blind to the situation.  "You're in labor!" 

I wasn't convinced.  It was two weeks early.  First babies are never early, right?  And, besides, I didn't have any pain.  I didn't want to be one of those women who showed up to labor and delivery NOT in labor.  I am a nurse, after all--I should know exactly the minute I am in labor. 

Finally, I ended up on the phone to the wonderful ladies at the labor and delivery nurses station and told them what happened.  The nurse I spoke to told me to "just come on and let us check you" and "not to worry about it".  So we did.  And I was.

It was about 9am when we made our way into the main entrance of Hillcrest.  The sky was so blue...a carolina blue sky... and the air was nice a crisp.  It was just a week before Easter and everything was beautiful.  I can remember looking up and making a point to remember that moment, how beautiful the day that my baby boy was to be born--I was so thankful for ...everything.

 At 6pm, Connor Gray Russell was born.  Richard remembers that "Don't Stop Believing" by Journey was playing on the radio in the delivery room...how fitting.  We will "hold on to that feeling" forever.

                                                                                                                                                         

Things we can't live without

A lot of thought these days has gone into reducing out grocery store, etc. budget--after the recent credit card statement showed way. . .too. . .much spent nearly every 7 days or so at HEB.  In my mind, I thought that my market trips were averaging about every 2 weeks or so, but the bill does not lie.

I've tried to cut coupons, but usually I only find coupons for the stuff that I don't need but then end up buying anyway...or I just forget the coupons at home over and over again until they expire. 

My organization in this venture is VERY lacking. 

I've also tried better meal planning to prevent those extra impulsive trips to the store.  But, inevitably, I realize that we're low on eggs or milk right after I get home and have to go back in a couple of days--when I usually spend just as much money as I did just a few days prior.  How is that possible?!!

Richard is not completely innocent in this either.  His trips (on the sly mind you) consist of expensive coffee, chocolate desserts, and imported beer.  I'm sure the cashiers are laughing to themselves when they see him coming.

There are, however, a few items that, regardless of when the last trip was, we have to replenish our stock if out:

1.  Ketsup--Connor wouldn't eat half of his food if he couldn't dip it in ketsup.

2.  Milk--Connor and Richard alone drink about 3 gallons of milk a week!

3.  Chicken nuggets--I always said that I wouldn't be that mother who fed her kids stuff like this, but here I

     am...it's one of the only 'meat' type foods that Connor will eat.

4.  Cheese--sliced cheese, those cute little block-cut cheese pieces, and the already shredded cheeses are a

     staple

5.  Formula--alas, no, I'm not breastfeeding Aidan.  I can't wait 'til Aidan switches to regular milk-- 

     taking this item off the list will cut down our bill dramatically!

I'm sure that next week, I could make an entirely new "must-have" list.

I either need to make a firm committment to shave off those unnessessary purchases--like that bag of York Peppermint Patties...mmmm, my favorite  (it was only a small bag!)

Or...

I need to look into alternative food sources..
    

Kiddos--2...Mommy and Daddy--0

Ever feel like you're fighting a losing battle? 

We're getting dangerously close some days to accepting defeat over here.  Just tonight, Richard and I tried to have a conversation about a small construction project we've been wanting to do for a few years and now have finally gotten down to actually...almost... having it done.  Our 5 minute conversation was literally stopped and started so many times that it took over 1 1/2 to finish!   

We are barely able to finish a sentence anymore.  Before we were 'kidded', we would sit in judgement when trying to visit with friends whose kids would so consume the energy in the room that our memory of the evening would consist only of started conversations and dropped lines of thought.  I remember being so scatter-brained coming away from get-togethers with families of young children . . .well, now we're that family. 

Sitting at the dinner table tonight, I'll bet we said, "Connor, don't interrupt", about 22 times.  Sometimes, I'll take a step back and try to gain some perspective on the state of our war on misbehavior and battles with discipline, and I'm agast at my leniency. 

A couple of months ago, Connor's willful lack of restraint shown tonight (I know that some of it is just pent-up energy) would've sent him to time-out about a dozen times; but, alas, by the end of the evening, my mommy-fatigue resorts only to empty threats to 'stop that' and 'don't do that'. 

Some of the most frequent imperatives in our house these days:

1.  Come back to the table right now, Connor.

2.  Sit in you chair and stop getting up until you've finished eating.

3.  Stop yelling at Aidan.  Be nice to your baby brother.

4.  Stop turning off and on the lights.

5.  Don't ask me that question again--you already know that answer! (usually after the 10th time asking the same question)

6.  Don't yell at Mommy or Daddy. 

7.  Stop interrupting!!!!!!!!

Inevitably, these demands are never met with compliant behavior.  So, usually, the next words out of our mouths are:

"Go sit in time-out!"

Richard and I both have a renewed appreciation for the aggravation that our parents had to endure and we are marvelling at their patience, restraint. . . and also at what few grey hairs they have despite our attempt to will every last hair to fade to white.

Nonetheless...

Our frustration tonight at the dinner table turned (as it usually does) from furrowed brows to giggles and smiles when Connor decided to interrupt that one..more..time.  That was it--it was going to be the time that Daddy was going to have to remove him from the table and take him into the bedroom for some special 'time out'.  Then Connor said, "Daddy, HUGS!!!", and he jumped down from the chair (that is #2 no no on the list) and ran over to Richard's chair to hug him (his hands were covered in fish stick crumbs) as if he just remembered that he wanted a hug.

It's like Connor knows just about the time that the fuse is about the blow. . .and then he delivers the final punch and completely takes control of the situation. 

We are such suckers!

All these pictures were taken by Connor (except the third one down) using his camera.  :-)

Play time

While making beds this morning, I heard doors start slamming...I just sighed and headed back to the boys' rooms--I'd left Aidan on his floor playing with one of Connor's old puzzles (I knew that was going to turn into an argument...Ugh!)
When I turned the corner, I saw Connor shutting Aidan's door. 

Me:  "Connor, don't shut Aidan up in his room--he might get scared."
Connor:  "But, Mommy, I'm going to work."
Aidan:  muffled "ya ya ya da da da ..."

I decided to play along. 

Me:  "Okay, but make it a quick day at work and come home and open the door, so Aidan doesn't get sad."

I backed off for a while to see how this would play out.  Keep in mind, usually Connor wants nothing to do with Aidan except to tell him not to play with his toys, not to make any sounds, and he spends an extraordinary amount of time moving his stuff away from Aidan's reach, even to the point that he can't even play with it.
I heard the door open back up...

Connor to Aidan:  "I'm home from work.  I had a good day"....and then a lot of chatter that I couldn't hear b/c the door was shut behind him.  Whoaa!
They were in there playing together.

I opened the door up--I'm excited about the playtime, but I'm not stupid...with these two, things can change very quickly.

Connor:  "No, Mommy, I'm playin wis Aidan!"
Aidan: squealing and grinning

So, playing with Aidan lasted about 20 minutes or so.  It was such a sweet feeling to hear them.  God has blessed us so much and now He's helping to grow my boys to love each other. 

.........Connor:  "NOOO, Aidan!!!"
Aidan:  crying

Well, it's definitely a process.  Welcome to daily reminders of our sinful hearts in need of Him.

Doodlebug #2

I've devoted most of my postings to Connor's antics...reasons being that, in life, the squeaky wheel usually does get the grease. 

I've always prided myself to be a fairly empathetic person by nature...I am very sensitive in a large gathering if someone else is being ignored and I always try to not to leave anyone out (This, of course, has brought me to very low depths of people-pleasing and insecurities about what others thought of me, etc...don't ask me why, I can't explain it.). 
Anyway, my hope was that this handicap could be used for good and serve me well as a mother of, now, two boys. 

Anyone who has two, with the first being very energetic and, yes, egocentric and the second being very quiet and patient, will tell you that it is a constant battle to convince the former (and sometimes yourself) that the latter needs as much attention.

Aidan will be 9 months old on March 10th, and over the course of the past 8 1/2 months, I've developed a much keener awareness to spot those moments when I can swoop in a be available to JUST Aidan.  PDO helps a lot--three days a week, Aidan and I get to roll around on the floor, play pat-a-cake and EVEN play with some of Connor's toys, all without interruption. 

I'm still trying to figure out the nature vs. nurture question in relation to Aidan's laid-back personality.  There was a lot of stress surrounding his arrival with my health in question and impending surgery for melanoma.  My parents stayed for a month to help.  From the 'old-school' of parenting, they helped us forget about trying to start "schedules" and such--Aidan ended up napping in the middle of a chaotic kitchen during meal preparation and play-doh sessions with Connor.  We were amazed at his ability to grab those zzzzz's anytime and any place. 

But, it was not just the sleeping.  Aidan was always very complacent...and not the negative sense of the word.  With everything else going on in ours lives at the time, here was this precious baby boy, so beautiful...so sweet, and he was here just waiting to get to know us and for us to get to know him.  It was as if he knew that our lives were turned upside down...I didn't know what God's plan was for me or how much time I had. 

He was so patient with us.  And, like any good baby brother and second child, when we finally turned our focus to him after all had the scariness melted away into our usual normal chaos, Aidan bore no ill will...he just smiled.

Best Friend

And, then there's 'Old Puppy'. He's a soft, brown and blue pull down musical puppy that grandma brought for him even before he was born.  It doesn't play anymore b/c he had to be put in the washing machine after many unfortunate vomiting/spit-up incidents.  

Old Puppy is Connor's best friend of sorts and certainly his comforter and lovie. I started putting puppy in the crib with him when he was around a year old. It didn't take long for Connor to latch on and now Old Puppy is required for a good night sleep, or for a good milk-drinking session. Connor never took a pacifier, so I never had to fight with him to give something like that up. I don't think that I'll ever ask him to give up Old Puppy--it's not a life-crutch in that he can leave it home when we take him to mommy's day out or to church, etc. But, as soon as Connor gets in trouble or is sad, his first instinct is to go a find Old Puppy (I think to have someone on his side); and, every morning and after naptime and dinnertime when he has a sippy full of milk on the couch, Old Puppy has to be there. Connor will sit drinking his milk and stroke Puppy's silky tag.  So sweet.

I'm excited to see what Aidan's lovie will be. 

Reading

To his mommy's and daddy's great joy, one of Connor's favorite things is to "read". One of the most predictable requests in our house from Connor is, "can you read me a book?"  We've read to him since he was a few weeks old--from 'Brown Bear' to 'Goodnight Moon' and now 'Thomas the Tank Engine' and R. Scarey's books. He loves them all. We're constantly amazed at his vocabulary and how he can pick up a book that we've not read in months and recite some of the sentences word for word. He gets so involved in the stories, he'll even skip over, what he calls, "scary parts" (which may be something as harmless as a thunderstorm or a nervous expression on a character's face).

We've started making regular trips to the library, which I must confess I had intended to do a long time ago but just haven't made a priority.  It's so cute when we go to the children's section of the library--Connor will pull books off the shelf and mull over the covers wondering whether or not he wants to check them out.  He'll say, "I think we need to bring this one home, Mommy." 

As a parent, and especially as a parent who did well and enjoyed school, I want to do everything possible to help him realize his potential in reading and other subjects.  One very controversial issue in our family was that Connor was not allowed to watch any television (including videos) until age 2--there was the occasional slip in the morning though (I am not a morning person anymore).   Richard did a much better job of holding firm to this rule--I would've caved long before age two if not for his insistance.  Looking back, I'm really glad that we resisted temptation--there were rare times when UNC basketball was on and, funly enough, the tv wasn't turned off (hmmm).

Now, at almost 3 years old, we've relaxed our rules for Connor to watch one or two cartoon in the morning after he wakes up and maybe watch a video (like curious george or veggie tales or elmo) after supper.  All in all, he averages about 1 hour a day.

Sleep-aholic

Turning 3 on March 31st, Connor is growing up so fast.  I'll never forget that day that we found out that he was growing inside me--it took 3 pregnancy tests to convince me.  Richard was overjoyed.  I was amazed--yeah, we weren't trying. 

God's timing is so much better than our own. 

We were so green when he first came.  The nurse left him in his little bassinet with all the diapers and wipes and blankets beside my bed.  Richard and I just looked at each other...what are we supposed to do now?...where is she going?...she's leaving him alone with us!?  I thought that I was so prepared---the childbirthing class, the books...they do not prepare you for the realization that every need that little baby will have is dependent on you to provide him.  More than anything, we just didn't want to mess up on the easy stuff and look like fools--we figured we could handle the really major things, like 'don't let him starve' and 'don't let him play with plastic bags' and such.  But, please oh please let this diaper stay on and not fall off.  And, what are you supposed to do with all this breastfeeding stuff?  Richard changed Connor's diaper when I was too sore from the c/s that first night.  I laughed when I saw the urine spray up in the air--Richard was so cute.

I tried to do everything 'by the book' with Connor--which really aggravated mama, who wanted me to put him to sleep on his belly and give him something called "pablum" when he was only 5 weeks old (sounds like it might've been baby rice cereal) to help him sleep 'better'.   Well, we turned out okay--I could hear her thinking it.

We definitely tip-toed around Connor more than perhaps we should have done.  I was so focused and obsessive about him sleeping well--partly because, selfishly, I wanted some of my time back and partly because that's what I thought he should be doing.  So many days and nights I spent 30-45 minutes just pacing back and forth with him on my shoulder until he finally fell asleep and I could lay him down.  I never really just put him down and let him cry it out--at least not during those first three months or so. 

Over the course of his first year, naptime and bedtime became easier and easier, until all I had to do was put him into bed and he would simply turn over and fall asleep--a feat I, to some degree, credit myself (probably wrongly) for all those hours 'teaching' him to sleep at certain times of the day.  I remember what a wonderful gift it was for Richard and I to get our night back--when Connor would go down to bed for the night around 8pm and sleep until 6 or 7am.  Overjoyed that I had couch time and conversation time back, I really was hesitant to talk about baby number two when we'd have to give that time up again for a time.  So selfish!  But, to this day, Connor is a champion sleeper. 

I hear other moms talking about how their kids never really napped or they only took 30 minute naps, even when they were babies.  I marvel at their sanity and the casual way that they throw it into the conversation.  My sinful heart relishes my success in this area and I then convince myself that they just didn't try hard enough.  I'm brought back to reality, usually abruptly, when I see Connor's shyness ruling when we're in public and other kids having no difficulty joining in or answering those silly questions adults ask the children of their friends (like 'how old are you?' and 'what's your name?')  I know that God has made my little man a little more cautious than some others--and I need to give those other moms a break . . .not their fault their kids don't sleep as well as mine does.  Although, just let me say, we have been around some folks who I'm convinced make it nearly impossible for their kids to thrive--amazing how some people with kids are so hung up on their lives not changing at all that they go about their daily lives as if the children are just along for the ride--sometimes they eat breakfast...sometimes they don't....sometimes they go to bed at 7:30...sometimes 11pm...--we've been around families like this and are so baffled.  What are their parents thinking?  Are they thinking?  That type always makes my parenting style seem especially anal. 

.....but, I digress...

Bottom line:  Connor loves his sleep...and, even when he doesn't love it, he's gotta have it or we all suffer.  Know what I mean?  Without it, his whine and complain and short-fuse buttons are all turned on HIGH and constant. 

Now, naptime usually consists of us visiting the potty and then Connor climbing into bed.  Then, in an attempt to stall, he'll make a few requests that I can usually fend off if I can anticipate them.  He'll usually stay down after I threaten that he'll be too tired to play later if he doesn't take a good long nap. 

Naps these days usually last around 1 1/2 hours -2 1/2 hours.  (I know, WOW, right?)

Bedtime has the potential to be a little dicier.  Bath with a lot of silliness, then brushing teeth and struggling to put on 'jammies', and then we climb into bed.  I say prayers with him--usually he interupts a bunch...sometimes wanting to add something he's thankful for and sometimes to ask me a 'stall question'.  Then a firm demand that he stays in the bed--he has a bad habit of getting up with lots of excuses (eg. "somefin makes me scared" or "I wanted to give you a kiss" or "I want to take my monkey to bed").  Lately, this reminder to not get up works. 

We'll see what next week brings.

Snow Day

The snow started around 7am.  It's 10:30am now.  If you'd asked me a few months ago, I would've never believed that this would be our 4th snow this winter.  Thank you El Nino!

I love a good snow day.  It reminds me of living in Chapel Hill, NC, in 2000, when it snowed over 2 feet and everything seemed to stop for weeks.  I was working at the Burn Center at UNC Memorial at that time and I lived in a little basement apartment about 5 miles from the hospital.  My first shift after the snow, I strapped on my boots and set out to walk around 5:30am.  It was so dark but the icicles reflected the few generator lights that were on after the power failure.  It was breathtaking and so quiet.  To get from my apartment to the hospital, there is this huge 1/2 mile hill to climb.  The ice was thick on top of the sidewalks, so I'm glad that it was dark, so there was no chance of anyone seeing me struggle--not that anyone was around at the time.  The hospital didn't close during this extraordinary storm, so I was expected at work...except for hospitals, police, firefighters, and other 'essential' employees, everything else was closed.

It's so exciting for us to watch Connor see and enjoy snow for the first time.  The day we brought him home from the hospital, the day before Easter that year, it was snowing about like today.  I've been so hoping that living in TX wouldn't prevent us from enjoying this winter beauty.  I get so annoyed when folks complain about the cold and wish for summer to get here sooner.  Come on, people!  Summer here lasts from about May until November...brutally hot from sun rise until 10pm at night, if you ask me.  I love these cold winter days.  Such a gift!

Enough of this.
Connor and I are going outside to play while Aidan is asleep.

Date Night

Years ago, I wouldn't normally get so excited about a movie (matinee, in fact) and dinner out; but, boy we sure do jump at the chance now!  Well, Richard jumps--I very cautiously hop. . .worried about Connor getting so upset when we leave.  I started testing the waters around 3pm:

Me:  Miss Sarah is going to come play tonight.
Connor:  We can play choo choo train!
Me:  Yeah, y'all can.  Daddy is taking Mommie to a movie while y'all play.
Connor:  No, Mommie--don't leave.
Me:  Well, darling, we'll be back in time for your bath and bedtime.
Connor:  (lips beginning to quiver)  No, Mommie, I want to come 'wiss' you. 

This went on for a while until he finally erupted into full fledge crying and collapsed onto my chest.  While I kept reassuring him that we'd be there before bedtime, he uped the anti by, very dramatically, wiping away a tear on his cheek and looking at me with such a pleading expression.  Ugh!

[Connor, how do I protect you AND help you grow at the same time?  I love you so much, and I breaks my heart for you to be sad.]

He's always a little timid going to PDO and church nursery, but getting braver every time.  However, the idea of a  babysitter-over-to-the-house business is just more than his little nerves can stand right now. 
Different story when we left for the movie--he was busy talking away to Sarah, not giving us another thought.  Really different story when we got home--like a monkey climbing in trees, he was up on the counters playing with his tooth brush while Sarah was bathing Aidan; and, then he kept singing at the top of his lungs, running from room to room like a whirlwind and then making circles around Sarah.

He is so much like me.  I dread things unjustly, and then end up having a good time.  I guess my expectations are low, maybe as a defense mechanism. . . or maybe (more likely), I'm just a closet pessimist with a "glass half-full" persona.  Mmmm!

Anyway, kids and no time to myself is helping me really enjoy those rare 'date nights'.  Ours was very low-key, but so fun:  movie (The Education) and dinner (Pei Wei).  Movie--very good, much better than I thought it would be---except, it seemed to offer no consequences for very stupid behavior except the lesson learned from the memory of really stupid behavior (but, really, does every movie have a moral obligation to teach us--I was very happy just being entertained).

All in all, good night.  Now a glass of wine and a cuddle on the couch with Richard.  Here's to the 'glass [being] half-full'.

Setting:   cold study, morning, sounds of Dan Zanes floating through the air. . .even though there are no children around.  Connor is at PDO and Aidan is blissfully asleep.  Richard is at work.
Me:  sick day, supposed to be at bible study. . .I even did the work.  Oh well.  It's nearly freezing outside and raining and I'm contemplating starting this blog.
I've always thought of myself as one of those folks who would journal.  I've started about 10 in my lifetime that have, usually, ended up with blank pages after about the 3rd week.  In some weird way, I think that starting a blog is somehow narcissistic or vain--like I'm hoping that someone would read my thoughts and reward me with a young new author award. 
Actually, to my dismay, amnesia since childbirth has set in and I'm so afraid that I'm going to forget all those moments that we say we'll never forget--like the quiet cuddles on the couch and how it feels so good to have Connor snuggle to me after his nap, the way his hair smells like a mixture of shampoo/sweat/ear wax (gross, right? not to me, so precious), how Aidan crinkles his nose up and purses his lips when he has a buggar, or even how I love to look up from my "designated" place on the sofa at night after the kids are tucked into bed and see Richard engrossed in one of his novels or laughing while reading Dear Abby in the newspaper (which goes against all preconceived notions about his tolerance for stupidity). 
I never want to forget. 

So this is for me. . .and someday for my boys.



Our family. . .wow!  10 years ago I couldn't even have conceieved of what those words  would mean outside of fond memories of childhood--Mama always having the right words for raising us girls, even if we didn't want to hear it; and, Daddy so strong and trying so hard to make us laugh, even when we didn't want to--and looking forward to those fun Thanksgivings and Christmases getting to catch up with aunts, uncles, and cousins. . .

Richard is my soulmate.  He came into my life right at a time when I was leaving behind the comforts of sureness from childhood and school to enter into the unknown world of life beyond that small town.  I thought that I'd already made that jump 5 years earlier when I started at UNC.  Always so independent, I tried despirately to shed that accent, the slowness of life, and naivity that Mama and Daddy had worked so hard to give us. 
Even though I didn't know it until later, I was losing myself during that time.  I read somewhere that a college-aged teenage girl separated from childhood female family members is very likely to experience a dramatic drop in self-confidence.
With Richard, I found my way back.  He was one of those guys that you were glad to bring home--smart, funny, easy to talk to, and not judgemental. . .and best of all, he was crazy about me.  He made it okay for me to want to be who I was.  In fact, I am more myself than I've ever been.
Nine years later, here we are in Waco, TX, of all places--twenty-one hours, by car, from my "home".  That's a testiment to "bringing me back"--I've never been more my parents daughter than I am here in TX with my family.  What do you know. . .the little girl from NC, all brighteyed and ready to please, fought the temptation to stay and be unaware of how perfect things were in order to take the leap into the crazy TX "frontier", battle the heat and awful cedar (and, might I add, Texans weird obsession with being Texan), and to grab life by the horns (ha! TX pun intended) with my love.  The best thing is that now, removed from that comfort zone, I see how wonderful my childhood and my family are and I am determined to give that to Connor and Aidan. 

God's will be done.