seven

Yesterday was an anniversary of sorts, though not one that gets celebrated much any more. Neither my boy or I have been very good about recognizing our milestones -- probably because 4 years of a long-distance romance made it no fun -- and other than a weekend away every October there's not much that warrants gifts and cards for each other. That's probably why I had to check my calendar again when I saw the date that was approaching, and why I almost didn't believe how much time had passed. Seven years? Have I really been his for that long? I suppose you could say that I haven't "been his" since our wedding, nearly 3 years ago. Or that I wasn't his until the proposal, almost 2 years before that. Anyone who knew my heart wouldn't agree with that though, because he had me within a month of our first kiss.

I waited a long time to date, choosing to observe other people's misadventures and broken hearts rather than sacrificing myself. I even fought the feelings when they began to surface for him, this friend of mine who seemed so different than everyone else. I analyzed our conversations and picked apart our encounters, trying to find the difference so that I could label it something else. By the time I was ready to admit what was changing inside of me, the circumstances couldn't have been worse. I was leaving for college in 12 days -- physically a state away but really so much further. We were in the middle of a week at camp -- he one of the youngest counselors and me one of the oldest campers. It was a horrible time to start something new, and I almost didn't believe it when he kissed me one night. I floated back to my cabin and got ready for bed, thankful for the darkness that hid my beaming face, and wrote a note so that I would never forget the date. August 8, 2001. It was only later, when we were trying to figure out how "we" worked (or might possibly work) that I began to realize how much of a struggle he had gone through as well. It's silly, but I always assumed that when I finally gave in to my feelings for a boy, he would be beyond grateful and eager to make it work. I don't have such a high opinion of myself as a "catch," but I was used to being the only set of brakes in most relationships. In reality, to know that he had been working through doubts and fears about our changing friendship right along side me was a huge relief.

It was barely a month after our kiss that I had my first dream, and I remember waking from it in disbelief. I turned to my roommate and said, "I'm going to marry him..." and she politely "ummhmm"ed me in her sleep. It felt so strange to say, but even stranger to know -- that I was OK on my own but would be better with him. That he would be a part of me for the rest of my life (which is pretty unimaginable at the ripe age of 17!) I'm excited to celebrate our third wedding anniversary in a few months, because it's important to look back on the day that we publically committed our lives to each other. I hope that I never stop celebrating August 8th as well, because that was the day that my heart began to open to love. I think about myself, heart pounding, face beaming, giddy with the excitement of the boy in front of me, and I think -- you have no idea.

brew festival

We had this great idea at Christmastime to get our siblings up here for the brew festival this summer, and it almost worked for us! My sister was already planning on coming up to attend with 3 of her friends, so our gifts to the brothers were plane tickets for them to join in on the fun. Unfortunately, my brother had a concert to perform last Saturday (which I heard was amazing! Can't wait to see the video!) and Corey's brother had a wedding engagement that he couldn't miss... and 2 of my sister's friends backed out as well... so we ended up with a much smaller party! We ended up staying home on Saturday when Heather and her friends were at the festival, just because it was right in the middle of a nap, and Saturday afternoon/evening tends to be the time when you can't turn around without bumping into someone's beer (which stinks when you're the size of 2 people, and even more when you're pushing a stroller). We went on Sunday afternoon instead, which was much less crowded -- but they were out of about half of the beers due to Saturday night. Oh well, next year we'll head over on Thursday or Friday and call it good :-)

Corey's used to drinking alone when we go to the brew festivals (although last winter we had some friends join us and that was better!) so it was fun for him to have my sister there. Usually he says, "wanna try it??" to me and I look at him like he's trying to poison me... then I settle for smelling it, but all I can really say is "yup. Smells like beer." This time he had someone to swap tastes and compare notes with, which made both of us feel better!

The winter ale festival is the one that Corey gets REALLY excited about, so maybe we need to stop trying to get family up here during the summer and shoot for that one instead. Anyone? Anyone? Well, one of these years...

(I should note two things: 1)my sister spent the weekend trying to teach Benjamin to say "Beer" and thus should be considered a bad influence, and 2)when we walked into the festival and had IDs checked, the man looked at my ID and then at my belly and said, "pregnant?? sheesh" like I was going to be the one drinking. Yeah, and while you're at it could you pass over a mug for my 15 month old?? thanks.)

good ol' Portland

trying to fit in
(he can "holler" with the best of them when the cheering starts!)

happy beer tasters

Mmmm.
(they have free draft root beer for the DDs, but it was gone when we got there... sad!)

a little disgruntled that he didn't get to taste any

all done!

flying with baby

I've had a catch-up week for sleep, laziness, and general relaxation. Our trip to CA was excellent but tiring, especially after last week's busyness, so I decided to allow myself a week to recoup. (All of that to say, I haven't updated with pictures and stories yet, but I'm not going to feel guilty about it!)

There are pictures of family and my little guy over here, but I wanted to share about our travel experiences. Benjamin has flown about 12 times in the last year (6 trips), and each time has been a unique experience. As he's been in various stages of growth for each one, I thought I would share some of the wisdom I've gathered.

• Traveling with a baby means lots and lots of stuff. It's unavoidable. Take, for example, this weekend: We were going for 2 nights and managed to pack all of our clothes into one suitcase (including diapers, a few toys, and some emergency food for little guy, this is a huge improvement from previous weekend trips!) BUT then we had to pack his diaper bag with extra diapers, snacks, books, etc for the airport/plane (FYI sealed yogurt is a no-no with TSA. Who knew??) and a carry-on with some of our necessities (mostly things we don't like to check, like my camera). Then, since this was a trip to my grandparents' house and not down to southern CA, we had to take his pack-n-play for sleeping and his stroller for walks (the difference is, we have extras of these things that we leave at our parents' houses to avoid looking like Sherpas at the airport). We also had to take his car seat this time, since we weren't renting a car and there wasn't an extra available. All in all, quite the load for a quick weekend trip!!
• Teamwork is essential. I know this isn't always an option (like my trip down south next month without Corey... yikes!) but when you have the extra person, it's best to sketch out a game-plan. Example: One person gets the car from long-term parking, the other gathers luggage and waits *ever so patiently* on the curb. Or, one person worries about checking in and getting everything situated while the other is in charge of corralling/entertaining/feeding interesting things to baby. Once on the plane, teamwork mostly consists of one persons arm going numb under the (hopefully) sleeping child and the other person passing along sympathetic looks -- or one person trying to keep a squirming, active, curious 14-month-old contained to their lap while the other tries not to get an eye poked out in the scramble.
• Aim to fly during a normal sleep-time. This has been a tried-and-true tactic for us, and it has rarely backfired... with the exception of a late-night flight when people were being drunk, loud, etc behind us, and this last trip, when nap-time became a joke. This is still a good plan when flying with an infant, but I'm starting to wonder if they would do better fully awake after the 1-year mark. (Especially a kiddo like Benjamin, who gets hyper the more tired he becomes...) Of course, then you have to entertain a fully-awake and curious toddler while keeping them confined to your lap -- but hopefully without the whining.
• Have a back-up plan. This could be a treat, a favorite toy, a bottle of milk... whatever might appease your child should they become THAT baby on the plane. For us, this has included a bottle (or me, when we were doing that sort of thing), his butterfly toy, his favorite book, his blanket, little snacks... and this last trip, a laptop with the Animaniacs on it. (Don't judge! It's better than having him ruin the flight for everyone!) We also took his binkie, even though we've been weaning him from it, because it's a guaranteed way to calm him down/get him to sleep (or at least plug his escalating chatter).
• Medicate. Only joking! Well, half-joking. We've considered a little dose of baby tylenol before a long flight but always forget -- unfortunately we've had two trips coincide with a teething Benjamin and he's been miserable. This last trip, on the plane ride home, we remembered to give him a little tylenol before checking in and he was much happier on the plane (could have helped that he was absolutely exhausted from our trip!) For our flight next month I've considered a dose of something or other, since I'll be alone with him and he's awfully strong/active/big (plus, there's not much of my lap for him to fit on at this point!!) but I still have issues with giving him anything when he's not actually needing it. We'll see.
• Always always fly Alaska. Or, more importantly, never NEVER fly Southwest. We've used Alaska for every trip except this last one, and from the start we were able to see the difference. The Alaska people are always helpful, understanding, and accommodating when they see you travelling with a baby (and all of the baby's stuff). In the past, they have allowed my dad to help me to the gate (post-marathon when I flew home alone with Benjamin), they have looked the other way at our heavy luggage, they have moved our seats to give us more space, they let us board early, and they don't charge us to check a carseat, a stroller, or a pack-n-play. The best thing is, they have done all of these things without our asking for extra help (you might know that I'm horrible at asking for special favors!) Southwest, on the other hand, is horrible. They don't charge for a carseat/pack-n-play, but they count that combo as one checked item (which, these days, is all that you're allowed without paying extra). Then, they act as though they're cutting you a break for not charging extra. They insist that you provide proof of your baby's age no matter how old your infant. We saw on their website that they required a birth certificate to prove that a lap child is under 2, but we figured that our little guy (who, by the way is below the 50th percentile and actually little) was an obvious under-2. Also, we don't have his birth certificate on hand... but that's another story. When we tried to check-in she gave us a hard time about not having proof (apparently, their policy applies to everyone -- even if your infant is a week old) and then listed off things we could have provided in place of a birth certificate (immunization records, etc.) That would have been helpful to list on the website, don't you think?? Anyway, as we didn't bring those things with us, she gave us a break "just this once" and let us board without buying an extra ticket for Benjamin. On the way home, we got the third-degree again. I looked at the man who was checking us in and said, "We're flying home. If we didn't know that we had to bring proof on this trip, and we're just now coming home from this trip, why would we suddenly have the proof you need??" His reply? "Well, you're supposed to have someone fax you a copy of the proof of age." Excuse me? Wouldn't that have been nice to mention back when we checked in the first time? Again, he hemmed and hawed and protested, but eventually "did us a favor" and let us take Benjamin without buying another seat. "Next time, make sure you bring something... especially when you have such a big boy. It's really hard to tell age," he said, as Benjamin babbled incoherently and tried to eat his shoe. I sat there thinking, "How many 2-year-olds have you seen in your life??" while Corey responded, "Next time we're not flying Southwest, thanks." But oh, there's more. They don't offer pre-boarding for families anymore, but they do allow you to board between groups A and B (gee thanks). That's not so bad if you're boarding a previously empty plane, but if you're tacking onto a flight that's already got passengers continuing on from somewhere else, boarding after group A could mean not getting to sit with your family... and that makes the teamwork not really possible. Since I was pregnant (and thus "disabled") they allowed us to pre-board... but I had to remind them to give me the pre-board card and then I had to convince the flight attendant that I was in fact pregnant and not just trying to get extra favors for my family. Believe it or not, I could keep going... but this bullet point has become an essay. Basically, stick to Alaska.

We're already thinking about next winter and how we'll get to CA with Benjamin, Rutabaga, and all of their combined stuff. It was quite the adventure to drive with Benjamin last year, but when I consider the alternative...? Generally my feeling on flights is similar to the removing-a-bandaid theory -- though painful, at least it's over with more quickly. I might end up amending that when we have TWO lap children!

passed out on the plane during my last solo experience

safety

We had an interesting experience last night. I had just finished posting and joined Corey in our bathroom to get ready for bed when we heard the sliding glass door open. Usually when we come back to our room for bed we lock up the house and turn off all of the lights, but I admit that I'm worse about checking locks than he is... especially the back doors. Still, I had locked the front door and assumed that the back doors were locked.
Our sliding door has a very loud and distinct sound -- it rumbles, it squeaks, and it grates as you open it. We were brushing our teeth and joking about something, and then we were looking at each other wide-eyed and asking, "Was that the back door??" There wasn't any question, really, because it's so loud.
What do you do when there's someone in your house who shouldn't be? I feel beyond safe in our neighborhood and have forgotten to lock even the front door without giving it a second thought. We've left our garage doors open all night (obviously not on purpose...) and never been worried. I can't really describe the shock that went through me when I heard that door open last night, but you can probably imagine my instinct. Benjamin, asleep in his room, was a hallway and a baby-gate away from us.
We had moved a phone to our bedroom earlier in the day, and Corey used it to call 911. He locked our bedroom door, despite my repeated "but Benjamin!" As he explained our situation to the operator, I kept waiting for her to say "go ahead and get your son, just be quick and quiet." Silly, I know, but I kept hoping. Even now, when the rational side of me is back and I can see clearly that it's better to keep him asleep and safe in his crib while we're locked and safe in our bedroom, I can't say that I wouldn't try and get to him again. Instead, Corey had me sit down and I began to pray words that hadn't come to mind since Benjamin was a little Rhubarb, tiny and uncertain in my womb. "God, I can't be sure that my baby is safe. I can't hold him and see him and protect him right now. But you can. You've been forming him, and shaping him, and you know how to care for him better than I do. Hold my little one for me, until I get the chance."

Thankfully, there were several cops in our immediate area and they were tromping through our backyard within about 5 minutes. We hadn't heard anything else from inside the house, and I had been hoping that whoever opened the door just saw the newly-positioned computer and thought it was enough. When we met the officer at the back door we saw that the sliding door was closed and locked. How? No idea. He hadn't seen anything by the side-yard so he figured that someone tried to open the door and couldn't actually get in. He thanked Corey for calling and keeping his family safe, then left us to check on Benjamin and go to bed. (I didn't end up waking Benjamin because he had been up briefly with teething pain at 9, but I made sure that he was sleeping soundly and safe.)
My heart had a hard time calming down after we were "safe" again... which was made more difficult by the adrenaline shot that woke our Rutabaga. There had been no real danger, thankfully, and we were in the best possible situation, but it's hard to ignore the fear from not-knowing. We thought about it later and realized that Corey had been the last one outside that afternoon, which means (a)the door had been locked all along (he's much better about that than I am!) and (b)the screen door had been shut as well (one of his habits). When the cops were here they pointed out that the screen was half-open, which could have been the noise we heard. Our screen is loud and squeaky, certainly, but we both heard the rumble that accompanies the glass door as well. I can't explain it at all, but I don't think we over-reacted.

God has been giving me a lot of lessons in control lately. I take too many things for granted in my life, mostly because they've been easy in the past. My sense of security hasn't been coming from anything other than the knowledge that it's been OK until now. So when things start to get shaky, I take an "everything will work out" attitude and then try to fix it. In the past week or so I've had to reach a place of surrender with job situations, financial worries, peace, and my marriage. I'm re-learning to trust God with these things, even though it's been a long and slow process. Despite being a small matter, last night was hard for me -- but I've been reminded again of Isaiah 23:6 and for that I am grateful.

"You will keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on You, because he trusts in You."