through the looking glass

five years, six days.

2012-02-14T22:33:00.000Z

That title is probably misleading.

Maybe it should be "five years. six days".

Because what I am talking about is the fact that five years ago, my husband asked me out on our first date, and as a result, I am spending my sixth Valentine's day with him.

Not only that, but I get two Valentines now, because I have a son. (Score another one in the "having a boy" category. Sometimes being the only girl has it's perks.)

I woke up to these:

According to Hubs, Jameson picked these out for me.

A dozen red roses from my love.

And these:

Because he knows how much I love Valentine's Day, even though it's "commercial".

Apparently, this took a million years to make, and included an incredible mess.
All while I was spinning my butt off at the gym.
I love my guys.

Then Hubs took me to this restaurant, followed by this:

Then I got to hang out with these guys:

He's like, "Come on, Mom. That's enough now."

I love this. I know Jameson and I are out of focus, but it's my family.
We are happy.

And now I'm here.

Such a blessed woman, am I.
And a happy one, at that.

currents

2012-02-12T18:00:00.000Z

Jameson is still mega-sick, so we've been house-bound for the past few days.
I spent Thursday night in the living room with him from midnight to 6:30am, and he got an early morning bath on Friday, after throwing up/pooping everywhere. It's been rough going for us, but I'm hoping that he is over the worst of it and can start getting better.

In the mean time, since my brain is running slower due to lack of sleep, here's a pretty nonsensical post about...me! (Because I know you're dying to know all about that topic, since it doesn't get talked about often enough. Ha.)

Reading: Thanks to the Kindle I received for Christmas (as well as the stack of six books from my sister-in-law), I have kind of managed to start reading for pleasure again. Hallelujah. I just finished reading this book, which was so packed full of emotion, I almost didn't know what to do with myself. It was so good, but it kind of hurt, too. At the end, I just grabbed Jameson and cuddled him until he got mad and started to cry.
I also finally finished this series, which was good, but I kind of felt like the last book just trudged along for awhile. I'm not sure I'd recommend it, simply because it was so incredibly graphic in some areas, but the plot line was decent, and the suspense was excellent.

Listening: During the winter time, I always fall back on a few favorites. Bon Iver, John Mayer, and Ray LaMontagne are never far from me. However, Florence and the Machine have recently found their way into my life, and I couldn't be happier. Oh, and how could I forget Sesame Street and Yo Gabba Gabba?

Watching: On the off chance that I do have time to watch TV, it's generally of the trashy, brain-candy type. After spending my day with a seven-month old, 'America's Next Top Model' or 'Made in Chelsea' are generally where it's at for me. However, Hubs and I have recently started watching 'Modern Family', and we always have our old friend 'Grey's Anatomy' to look forward to (when it finally makes it's way across the pond).

Pondering: The ins and outs of being a mom, as well as being a wife and daughter of the Lord, and how all of those things fit together. All of this will be coming out in a post shortly, I promise.
I've also been thinking a lot about adoption (it seems that all my friends have recently begun the process, or are considering beginning the process to adopt), and whether or not it could/should be considered a calling for all Christians. If anyone has any resources about this, I'd love to take a look at them...

Doing: I seem to have finally found a workout schedule that is do-able for me, and it involves a lot of spin classes, a Zumba class, and a body combat class. I am tired, but I feel good, and finally feel like I'm getting back to where I want to be.
Other than that, I'm trying to cram a little bit of work in during the evenings and generally being the best momma that I can.

And there it is folks. Care to share your own currents?

flashback friday

2012-02-10T18:22:00.000Z

A snippet of a post that I started writing, but never finished:

I'm homesick today (but I'm not sure I can even explain what that means).

It's the middle of July, and there are rainclouds in the sky and a cool breeze blowing through the trees, and I just sit and think, "Where is summer?"

My son is sleeping in his swing right across from me, and the thoughts that tackle me when I look at him are overwhelming. The future seems so uncertain, especially with this new little guy, and I just feel like I am treading on unstable ground. Every day is different, down to how much sleep I get and how I feel physically. This is the biggest life change I've ever experienced, and I think I'm still in shock from it all.

I worry so much more now. I worry about his breathing, and his crying, and the little spots on his face, and the faces he makes, and all of the 'what-ifs' that hit me when we walk out the front door.

If I let it, this anxiety could consume me.
I'm sure I could attribute this to all of the hormones making their way out of my body right now, but I also know that this is probably just going to be the battle I fight for the rest of my life.
I'm a momma now, and suddenly, my heart is encapsulated in this little person, which means that I will always worry.

Six months later, and I am happy to report that the anxiety has gotten easier to manage, but is still around.

Looking back at this, I feel like I've gotten some sort of a handle on motherhood, even if it's just that I know my son now, and so am more familiar with what is normal (and what is not). I think the pendulum has swung the other way, and now I'm working on finding a balance between being a mom, and a wife, and still being myself and doing the things that feed my soul.

Any tips are greatly appreciated.

where are the words?

2012-02-07T20:48:00.000Z

Jameson has been sick for the past few days, so I'm starting to get a little stir-crazy over here.

We took him to the doctor yesterday (which required waking up bright and early to make sure that we were one of the first in line, so that we didn't have to sit in the waiting room with a sick infant for two hours...), and she told us that it's probably some sort of virus and the best thing to do is to just wait it out and let his immune system take care of it.

Which is beneficial in the long run, I know, but it's so sad to live through. The good news is that it hasn't really seemed to phase him (other than the snot everywhere and the coughing), and he's just as happy as ever. For the most part. The problem is that we got about four inches of snow the other day, and I'm not sure I'm up to wrestling the stroller through the sludge with a sick baby in order to escape the house for a few hours.

Although, check back with me in a few days, if he doesn't start to get better soon.

Anyway...this is pretty much just a lot of nothing. I guess I'm lacking in inspiration tonight, which I'm working on letting myself be okay with. I think I need to start remembering the discipline behind the talent, which means consistently practicing the talent, even when I don't feel inspired.

You lucky few just happen to be on the receiving end of the nonsense.

As a sidenote, thank you for the encouragement about the whole "pursue your dreams" thing. It gave me a lot to think about, and it's all still percolating right now...I think my biggest dilemma is finding the time and energy to essentially start my own business/brand/image while also fulfilling my responsibilities as a wife and momma.
And staying sane. Because that's equally as important.

Drink tea, and stay warm.

-C

tired.

2012-02-02T21:21:00.004Z

I didn't really want to sit down here and write this.

But then I thought about how I've let what I want dictate what I do for far too long. And the problem with this is that I always give up what I really want for what I want-right-now.
And in the end, it is just never, ever worth it.
Ever.

I spent a good couple of hours last night working on my "business" (I guess, if that's what you want to call it). It made me tired. Probably because I realized just how much work there is to go through to get to where I want to be.
And then this cues the question, "Where do you want to be?"

And I just don't know the answer, exactly.

I guess I want to be here, but making a living off of here. I guess I wish that I could find people that would give me money to write these sorts of things, and take these kinds of pictures, and I could just keep doing what I'm doing, but making a contribution towards our finances at the same time.

Part of the problem is that all of this requires time, and I just don't have that much of it.
I'm in full-time momma mode, now that Hubs is back to work, and while I love it so much, it is also completely exhausting. And then, when Hubs is not working, I am escaping to the gym for an hour, then making dinner, and then sitting down to write things that I don't really care about, because it's the only form of writing that pays. And don't get me wrong, I'm grateful for the work. I really, really am.

But how do you work towards the dream job when the real job takes up too much time?

I know I've got to start being more regular with this space. That's the only way to make, and keep, readers--by giving you something to read.
So I'm going to do my best. I'm going to try that whole "scheduled post" thing, and I'm going to attempt to devote some of my working time to writing what I want to write.
And then I'm going to hope that someone takes pity on me and gives me a break.

And I'm toying with the idea of an amateur photography business. I know.
It kind of kills me, because I actually really love photography and I really want to be better at it, but I get so discouraged and bogged down when I see that everyone and their mother that owns a DSLR has decided to open up their own business too. I just think, why would anyone choose me?
But then I've got to go back to doing something because I love to do it, and leveling with people.

I can take good pictures.
I also write well.
And at the end of the day, I need to own this talent, and refine it, and then go out and sell it for what it's worth.

So. Anybody out there want to cut this struggling artist a break?

this thing called marriage.

2012-01-28T18:00:00.000Z

There have been a lot of posts lately talking about whether or not marriage is hard.

I think this was all spurned by the Driscoll's new book that came out recently, and even though I haven't read said book, I've read the posts around it.

To be honest, I was a little surprised. Most of the posts I've read have all been talking about how this thing called marriage is not hard, and the surprising ease that they found during their first year together. And while I don't discount this at all, I feel like it's not necessarily fair to those of us that did have a hard time.

Because let's be honest here (since that's what I do).

My first year of marriage was probably one of the hardest things I've ever faced.

BUT

it was also one of the best.

And here's the thing. I got married at the ripe old age of nineteen, halfway through my second year of Bible college. When I got back to campus in the fall after we got married, I was surrounded by couples who had tied the knot that summer as well.
And that whole semester, I spent a good chunk of time worrying that we had made a mistake, because look at everyone else, they're so happy and all they talk about is how happy they are and how great marriage is, and gosh, we sure do have a lot of problems compared to everyone else...

And I just wish I had known that it was okay to wonder if we had made a mistake.
It was okay to feel like I hated this life, and to wish that I could just go back home and not do this anymore.

The problem is that no one warned me that it was going to be this hard, and that my husband and I would get in big fights late at night, and that I would cry and he would get angry, because we are imperfect, sinful people. No one wanted to talk about how marriage is like God holding up a big mirror that shows all of the bad parts of you and says, "Well kid, take a look. This is the truth, and there are parts of it that are pretty ugly." No one wanted to tell me just how selfish I was, and how I was going to have to learn how to say, "I'm sorry" and mean it even when I didn't want to.

So, I'm talking about it.
My first year of marriage was incredibly difficult, but it was also incredibly wonderful. There were moments that could have been pulled out of your favorite romantic movie, and moments that I will cherish for the rest of my life. But it was hard. And that's okay.
Because it's even better now, and I get to realize that and see how far we've come. And this is all okay with me. God has used my marriage like a refining fire, and even though I am far from done, I am proud to say that I have made progress.

And even though I sometimes get jealous of those people that have had a really easy time in their marriage, God is making me see that every relationship is different, and this just happens to be ours. Comparison is the kiss of death, it's the cause of all discontent, and it can be fatal to your marriage.

To my husband, thank you for loving me despite all of the roadblocks and difficulties we've faced. Thank you for forgiving me thousands of times, and showing me what sacrificial love looks like. Thank you for being my best friend, and making me laugh like no one else can.
I respect you so much, and I am so proud to call you my husband, and the father of my son.

To everyone else, I hope you won't judge too harshly.
And if someone else resonates with this, I hope you will realize that it's okay for something to be hard. That doesn't make it wrong, and it doesn't mean that you've made a mistake. It just means that it's going to take some work, but it's going to be worth it.

catch-up

2012-01-27T16:41:00.002Z

It's sunny but cold today, and I'm already on my third cup of (decaf) tea.
Jameson's still napping and I've finished working for the day.
We're almost out of milk and I'm trying to decide whether or not to rinse that load of laundry again.

I miss writing beautiful things.

I was completely content today, right here in this tiny town with it's lack of social activities and my inability to drive a car.

Jameson and I went out to a baby-friendly cafe, and I ate cake and drank coffee, while he sat in a highchair and gummed a baby rice cake. I made him laugh and he hugged me with his sticky fingers, and then a friend of ours coincidentally popped in and we ended up talking for an hour while she ate lunch with her two-year old, and the little bean-baby that is growing in her belly.

On the walk home, I looked at the sky and breathed in clean air, and reveled in the fact that I was okay, we were happy, and that I didn't have a burning desire to be anywhere else at that moment.

I don't know what this means.
Maybe it doesn't mean anything, or maybe it means everything.

Either way, it was nice.

Here's what life looks like lately. (And here's a promise to start working on photography again. Cause I need to.)

Hanging out at Uncle Jordan and Aunt Brandi's apartment in Dallas.

Oatmeal wasn't his favorite...

Gong Xi Fai Cai! (Or, Happy Chinese New Year!)

Double crowns. This may pose problems in the future.

Sesame Street. He loves it.

The gluten-intolerant's version of a ham sandwich.

the return.

2012-01-17T20:41:00.000Z

Ah, England. We meet again.

We've been "home" for almost a week now, and I am happy to report that we are pretty much settled back in and the jetlag is nearly out of our system. There are a million and one things that I need to work/think/pray through after our trip to America, and I am sure that they'll come out on here in time.

We had an amazing visit with so many amazing people, and I am just now processing how blessed I am, and how much support I have, even when I feel like I am in a very lonely place. It's interesting to see how God has given me the most incredible friends and family, and how I have not been able to find anyone similar in any of the places I've been. Seriously, I have been given the cream of the crop, and I am so happy about it.

Jameson was such a trooper during the whole trip--even the 10 hour plane rides where he had an ear infection and a cold. He was a rockstar baby, and people were constantly telling us, "Your baby is so well-behaved, and he is SO beautiful!" We would just smile and say thank you, but inside I was going, "I know, right? I got the best one."

He loved, loved, loved meeting his family in America, including 7 new grandparents (that's right folks, 7. We churn 'em out young in my family. Haha) including his great-great-grandma and 2 new aunts.

He also got to meet his godparents (outside of the womb), and the church family that has been loving on him and praying for him since he was the size of a poppyseed inside of my belly.

We had a dedication ceremony at church that was perfect, and exactly what Hubs and I wanted.

We got to celebrate my 23rd birthday at Spaghetti Factory, where I gorged myself on gluten-free pasta and wine, and laughed hysterically with my family.

Christmas was wonderful, and Jameson was spoiled beyond belief. We literally had to bring an extra suitcase back with us, that's how much stuff we picked up.

I put on at least five pounds from gorging myself with Mexican food, In-N-Out, Chick-fil-a, Starbucks, Panda Express, and so many others that when I think about them I just get hungry.

It was wonderful, and the perfect five weeks, and we didn't take nearly enough pictures (but I'll try to start taking more since I got a CAMERA PURSE for Christmas from my amazing husband!!!).

I am sad to be back here, but I am also glad to be in my own space, working towards a new goal of going home to the States for good. For now, I am trying to soak up the time I have here, because I know that there will be things I'll miss when I leave.

Hopefully, more regular posting will start to occur, thanks the the new schedule that I have us on. We'll see how it goes.

Love, love.

so this is the new year.

2012-01-02T06:19:00.000Z

2012.

I can't believe that it's here.

2011 has been a year of so many ups and downs, so many incredible things happened (including the birth of my son), for the good and the bad.

To be honest, I haven't spent much time reflecting on it all, simply because I am trying to soak up as much time with my family as I possibly can. We've been in Utah for nearly 3 & 1/2 weeks now, and are leaving on Wednesday, and...I really just want to be here.

Now.

Laughing with my sisters,

and drinking (decaf) coffee with my parents,

and watching my son get to know the American side of his family.

There will be posts with pictures to come (although, I've done a bad job of taking them. Again, I've just tried to be here with everyone, and not spend all my time behind a camera), and I'm sure the reflection will begin.

For now, I've decided that this year is going to be about taking better care of myself, so that I can take better care of my family. This includes all aspects: physical, emotional, and spiritual.

I want to be a better woman for the Lord, a better wife, and a better mom.

So, 2012, here's to you. Let's see if we can't live it up, right?

five months.

2011-11-30T23:32:00.000Z

Jameson baby is five months old today.

Unbelievable.

Next month, he will be half of a year. *cue weepy mom moment*

He is growing up way too fast.

This past week, he learned how to blow raspberries (along with the giant string of drool that comes out with them). Now, when he's really happy and he likes you, you'll get a raspberry (and a spray of baby spit) in the face.

He can roll over, from back to front, and he is lightning fast. Seriously, about a second after you lay him down on his back, he's already kicking himself over so that he can be on his tummy. However, he's still not a fan on this position, and cries for you to come get him if you leave him there too long.

He smiles a bit more now, mostly when he's tired, but also when he thinks you're funny. His little laugh is so cute, and there is no one that can make him giggle more than his Papa.

The teething monster showed up almost a month and a half ago now, and we have yet to see any progress. I swear I can feel a sharp ridge on his bottom gums, but I still can't see anything. Ugh. Poor monster baby. The teething necklace is still definitely helping, but we've also resorted to teething granules a bit more frequently since his pain seems to be getting worse. I wish his teeth would just show up!

He still loves the boob milk, and I'm happy to keep it that way for now. We're going to start baby-led weaning around six months (as long as he's ready), and I'm excited for him to try new things. So far he's sucked on bits of honeydew, apple, and orange, and has made faces at all three. We're going with the "Food for fun until one" adage, and I'm planning on nursing him until he's a year old, but hopefully for a while longer.

We love cloth-diapering (there's a post coming on that soon) and Hubs is officially an advocate for it. There is just something about washing diapers and hanging them up to dry that speaks to my momma-hood. I'm not even sure I can explain it. It just feels right.

But really, the most exciting thing is that we leave for the States in FIVE days, and I can't wait! Although I'm not looking forward to the eight-hour plane ride (which is only one of many, many plane rides we will be taking), I'm at the point now where I don't even care. It's been over a year since I've been home, and I can't wait for everyone to meet the new man in my life.

And finally, here are some pictures. Because what blog post about my baby would be complete without the pictures?

He was "The Last Airbender" for Halloween.
Perfect, I know.

The concentration (and drool) is overwhelming.

Oh mom. You're so embarrassing.

My beautiful, beautiful baby.

The artsy shot.

Hey guys? Guys? Can you come get me now?

Love.

that one time

2011-11-20T20:22:00.000Z

So there was that one time that I was going to do this thing called "NaNoWriMo" and write a 50,000 word novel in 30 days.

There was also this time where I was going to lose the last ten pounds that I gained while I was pregnant with Jameson baby.

Not to mention that one time where I was planning on making sure that our house stopped eating most (if not all) processed food, and bought more fruits and vegetables.

Also, that time where I was going to play with my baby every day, and read him lots of books so that he would have a higher IQ to serve him better later in life.

And then, that time where I was going to start being a better wife by not nitpicking at my husband, and just being pleasant and biting my tongue when I thought I was wrong.

Oh yeah, there was also that time where I joined that one manic-lady's website about keeping your house clean and organized, and she sends you a million emails a day so that you get to practice tossing clutter out of your inbox.

And I just remembered, that time where God and I were going to really carve out some quality time together, and I was going to read my Bible daily and start journaling again.

But then, there were all those other times where the sun stopped shining, the baby wouldn't go to sleep, all I could find to eat was cereal, I couldn't come up with a plot line, and I didn't have enough energy to get off the couch, let alone clean my house.

Maybe tomorrow will be better.

teething (and this thing called Baltic Amber).

2011-11-08T19:40:00.001Z

It has arrived.
That thing that I was dreading...

TEETHING.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, my son decided to exhibit teething symptoms at 3 1/2 months old, and much to his parents delight, we discovered that this can go on for nearly two months before the teeth even break through!

Awesome. Except not.

Anyway, after Jameson had been replaced by this rabid, drooling, biting, dramababy, I realized that we were going to need something to help us cope, ASAP. Besides the bottles of wine that we've been buying (that's parental coping mechanisms, thank you), I discovered this thing called a Baltic amber teething necklace through a friend of mine who had recently purchased one for her daughter.

I was kind of skeptical about it, because it's not something that they chew on, but rather the amber has these analgesic (big word for painkiller) properties that are supposed to help relieve pain as well as other symptoms of teething. When I asked my friend how her baby had done with it, she was so enthusiastic about it that she told me that she had decided to open her own store (www.viavaleron.com) and sell them herself.

Well, okay then.

Cue me, frantically emailing Mandy one afternoon, begging her to ship me an amber necklace internationally, because my child is crying and shoving everything he can into his mouth and I don't want to dose him up on Calpol (the UK version of Tylenol).

She emailed me back super fast, told me to pick out the one I wanted, and then she mailed it for me the next day. It took about a week to get here, and I was so excited that I was literally stalking the mailman for the few days before it came.

When I opened up my package, I saw this:


It's here! Yayayayayayaay!

I love the plastic clasp for safety, and it looks nice. There are knots in-between each individual bead,
so that if it happens to break, only one bead will fall off, lessening the choking hazard.

The best part about this whole thing is that it looks cute.

I put it on Jameson and cooed at him, cause he's adorable. He didn't even notice that it was there, and still hasn't, I don't think.

Look at my pretty baby.


Aaaand, another pretty baby shot. I can't help it.

So, besides the cute factor, let's talk about whether the thing actually works or not.

The night after we put it on him, he slept in for an extra hour (praise be to the Lord, God Almighty!) and took an extra long nap. I think he'd been so tired, but hurting too much to sleep, and this finally took the edge off of it for him.
I also noticed that his drooling was drastically reduced, and he didn't seem so frantic for something to relieve his pain.

He's had a few frantic moments since we put the necklace on him, where he seems to need a little bit extra "relief", so we give him homeopathic teething granules, but overall I'm really happy with the result. The combination of the two remedies has seemed to make life more bearable for this guy, and thus, more bearable for his parents. Even Hubs, who is the Biggest Skeptic of Them All has admitted that the necklace works and it was TOTALLY worth it.

I love the fact that a) it's natural (cause we all know how granola I've become) and b) it's cute. He looks like a little rockstar.

So, Mommas with crazy babies, I highly recommend that you click on this link, and go check out Mandy's shop. She's amazing to do business with, and I know that you're going to get the real thing and not some plastic imitation. The best part of it all, is that it helps not only with teething, but also just boosts their immune system in general, so you can leave it on all the time (we wrap it his around his ankle at night). I'm really debating whether or not to buy one for myself as an early Christmas present...(time will tell). Plus, if you like her facebook page, she'll give you 10% off, because she's just that nice.

And, okay, one last adorable baby picture. Because I can.

This guy has my heart.

*I received 50% off my order through a promotional review deal, however the thoughts and opinions expressed in this review are my own.

them.

2011-10-21T22:08:00.001+01:00

You know how there always seems to be that one person in your life that always manages to get what you want, only a little bit better, or a little bit more?

They're always there, somehow, kind of showing you up in this inadvertent manner that just drives you crazy, and makes you wonder if there's anywhere in the world you'll be able to go and escape from them.

A snippet of information here, a mention there...and suddenly you find yourself rocketed back into the one place you swore you'd never go again.

Jealous? Really?

But the problem is, in the end, it's always up to you to do what you want. So, even though they seem to have achieved that other level that you can never reach, when you step back and look at things, you have to admit to yourself, "If I had really wanted this, I could have tried harder. I could have fought a little bit more, carved out a little more time. I could have chosen this over that and then I'd be in a different place altogether...but is that really what I want?"

I guess I'm finding out that growing up means letting go of dreams and not begrudging other people theirs, even when you question whether it was ever truly their own.

And not only that, but life is about trade-offs. You get this, but you don't get that.

You have an amazing family, and a son that is beyond words.

You don't have a book deal in the works, and a flat stomach paired with a nice tan.

You live in a country that people would die to visit, and you've got international experience.

You don't live near your family, or see the sunshine, or feel comfortable in your own skin.

And I guess, in the end, that's just going to have to be okay.

baby terrorist.

2011-10-19T18:58:00.000+01:00

Baby terrorist with evidence of puke-bombing on his pants.
Satisfied with his work.

Yeah, that's right.

Apparently, Jameson has decided to let the world know that he hates mom, and has targeted me for his baby puke bombs that he drops at random.

It doesn't matter how long it's been since he's eaten, or how many burps he's just done, or how nicely I am cooing at him--BAM!

Puke bomb on mom's shoulder.

Even Hubs has admitted that he is definitely targeting me, but also says that I need to learn better burp-cloth technique.

Whatever.

This means war, baby terrorist.

Plotting his next puke-bomb attack.

half of a grapefruit and other things

2011-10-18T11:19:00.000+01:00

In my attempt to get myself into some sort of shape that doesn't resemble "squishy", I found myself eating 1/2 of a grapefruit this morning while I was waiting for the mini egg casseroles I had made to finish baking. It was kind of a weird moment, because 1/2 a grapefruit has always seemed like the typical "diet" food, the kind of thing you hear twig-like women asking for in the mornings.
I've never been a big grapefruit person, and I just happened to have one in my kitchen since my mother-in-law had gotten it on sale at Tesco. It was kind of ironic that I had just finished reading a blog post by a really skinny person, detailing how they ate 1/2 a grapefruit every morning before the rest of their breakfast in order to help their food digest better, and to also get a fruit serving in.
So, I ate it, and it tasted okay. And then I ate three mini egg casseroles, cause they were only 97 calories each. However, it was after eating three of them that I realized that eggs do nothing for me, and the only way I ever feel "full" is if I throw some carbohydrates and starches in there. Too bad I'd just consumed my morning calorie allowance.

Cue also the fact that I can no longer drink caffeine (at least until I don't have a child attached to my boob), and you have me, sitting on my couch in my sweatpants that probably need to be washed at 11:15 in the morning, not doing anything because we've finally gotten the baby down for a nap, and blogging about food.

This, ladies and gentlemen, is my new reality.

I did get a load of laundry going already, and I folded yesterday's, so that counts for something, right? I also have plans to go to the gym later (after bebeh wakes up) and I even have a pumped bottle of milk in the fridge so that Hubs can feed him.

Someday I'll write intelligent, interesting things again.
For now, you get the musings and scattered thought processes of a 22-year old mom who is trying her best to look 22 again, keep her house clean like she's 35, and cook like she's 50.

Awesome.

food.

2011-10-05T21:23:00.000+01:00

Some of you may know that about 5 months before I got pregnant, I decided to go gluten-free for a number of reasons, the main ones being that I was experiencing intense panic attacks as well as stomach pain that made me want to die. In the beginning, it was one of the most difficult things I'd ever attempted, purely because it meant cutting out all of my favorite foods. No bread, no cake, no muffins, no pancakes, no pasta, etc. Although I eventually found substitutes for these things (and just learned to live without some of them), even a small thing like going out to eat or eating at a friend's house was difficult, because I always had to be on the lookout for gluten-y things.

However, I found my rhythm eventually and was doing pretty well up until I got pregnant. It was at this point that the morning/all-day sickness hit and there were a limited number of things that I even wanted to attempt eating, one of which sadly included Whoppers from Burger King. Hubs tried to hold me off for as long as he could, but eventually the stress of moving to a new country, being pregnant, and not being able to eat anything that I wanted to got to me, and I just gave in. Surprisingly enough, I didn't seem to have the problems with it that I had before, and so I thought, "Well look at that. Pregnancy seems to have cured my digestive problems. Woo-hoo (and please pass the bread plate)!"

Now, three months after giving birth, I'm crawling back on that gluten-free wagon due to a sudden reappearance of that ridiculous stomach pain, coupled with bouts of thrush that won't go away. And can I just say, that even though I've done this before, and even though I hadn't been fully unlimited in my food choices for that long (I only stopped restricting myself all the way pretty much right before J-baby was born), giving it up again is HARD. Not to mention that I keep inadvertently eating gluten because I keep forgetting that I've got to get back on track.

Going back to eating gluten-free has gotten me thinking about all of the food that I am currently feeding my family. All of a sudden, the "hippie" food people have seemed to pop up out of nowhere and I have been confronted by loads of bloggers talking about going Vegan, going on raw diets, and limiting themselves to "real" food. I spent a good hour today reading through one family's journey of cutting out processed foods and sugars completely for 100 days, and it really impacted me. This family saw such an improvement in their overall health, and not only that, but their 5-year old and 3-year old were able to complete this challenge with an extremely small amount of difficulty and simply learned to accept that their family ate differently than other people.

This is not the first time that I've had a twang on my conscience about how our family eats. Hubs and I watched Food Inc. last year, and that was quite the eye-opener. We did adjust our eating habits slightly, but I feel like we've never quite taken the plunge wholeheartedly. To be honest, one of the main reasons for this has always been the cost. Sadly enough, eating "real" food seems to cost almost double the amount of the easy-to-prepare, yet processed-the-heck-out-of food. And although this is a legitimate concern (pretty much every choice we make lately revolves around our budget), today I was struck by the absurdity that is Western culture and our decisions about what we put in our bodies.

I have seen people (and been one of them) agonize over decisions about cameras and cars and computers and things that they "need" in order to get on with their lives. They research for hours, compare the pros and cons of this brand vs. that brand, and so on and so forth. They realize that this thing is going to be an investment, and so they decide that they are willing to make that investment because it will better their life somehow. However, when it comes to the food we put into our bodies to make ourselves work, we are willing to simply buy what is the cheapest without any regard for what is inside of it and what the consequences will be. This is so strangely absurd to me--what a ridiculous paradox. We are willing to take any means necessary to buy the stuff we want to surround us, and yet, when it comes to our body (which we only get one of!) we'll put anything in it depending on our mood or how well the marketing is done. This is not a judgment in any way, since I am completely and totally guilty of the same thing. (Hello. We're talking to the woman who ate Whoppers and whole chocolate cakes by herself during pregnancy. The woman who thinks breakfast foods are the best things on earth.)

I guess, ever since Jameson was born, I've taken a step back and begun to reevaluate all of the things that were so normal to me before. I've kind of become a crunchy-granola-hippie, if you want to know the truth. We're currently cloth diapering (which I am obsessed with. I mean it. I love it.), I'm breastfeeding (which I don't think should be such a big deal, but it can be, apparently), we kind of co-sleep, we wear our baby in a sling, and we're also holding off on vaccinations until he is at least two years old. I'm also planning on doing baby-led weaning with him around 6 months or so, which pretty much involves just feeding him what we eat. However, if I look at our diet right now, I can assure you that there are numerous things (and ingredients) that I DO NOT want to be putting in my son's mouth. And it's not just putting those things into his mouth while he's a baby, it's going to be for his whole life. If I don't want my son consuming something harmful right now, when would my stance on that ever change? And if my stance on that is never going to change, then what am I going to do when he becomes aware that the food that he eats and the food that we eat are different, and he wants to know why? Why am I more willing to look out for my son's health than my own?

Unfortunately, I'm not sure that I'm at the place where I can jump on the "real" food bandwagon completely just yet. Money is tight, and that is a major factor in everything we do. For us, right now, it's not about cutting back in other areas so that we have more to spend in this area, because we simply don't spend in any other area (except for bills, and I can't really justify not having electricity so that we can eat organic). However, I'm not giving up. I think I'm going to take the 10-day Real Food Challenge, just to see what that kind of lifestyle would involve. Also, since I'm gluten-free, my options are limited even further, since one of the main things that real food diets seem to include are whole-wheat everything.

I don't have the answers immediately, and I'm working on not expecting change to happen overnight. However, I do know that I am not currently satisfied with the way that our eating habits are going, which means that something is going to have to change. If anyone out there has ever attempted anything like this on an extremely limited budget, or as gluten-free, I would love to know what you think and what your experience was.

Whew. The end.

there's a drumming noise inside my head

2011-09-26T16:08:00.000+01:00

Every time I think I finally have something to say, the words vacate my head faster then I can get them down on paper.

I'm afraid that this could be a permanent road block.
But then I remind myself that I'm only 22, and I still have years and years ahead of me to write and take pictures and live my dreams.
I've just got to get through the melancholy I sometimes feel in the here and now.
I've also got to get over the guilt I feel for feeling that way, because I have a son and a husband, and those two things are more than some people get in a lifetime.

I am happy.
Most of the time.

And besides, there is more to life than being happy.
I know that.

My two guys.

The best things to ever happen to me.

the cycle.

2011-09-08T20:29:00.000+01:00

Sometimes I wish that my biggest struggle in life was the fact that I *willingly* decided to give up buying myself new clothes.

I just don't understand this world.
I just feel like there's got to be more.

And, I think that, sometimes, I'm a little disappointed in people when they act like this is all there is.
I just roll my eyes and try to keep going.

Then there are those sneaky moments where my covetous heart rears its ugly head and I am back on my knees asking the Lord to forgive me for all the items I'd sell my soul for.

And not only am I repenting of jealousy,

but I've also got to throw judgment on the pile,

and I realize once again,

that I am just as broken as everyone else.

Dang it.

security.

2011-08-30T11:51:00.000+01:00

I want a house.
And a car, to go along with that house, as well as some nice furniture to go inside that matches the paint colors that I would carefully pick out for each room.
I want to cook in my gorgeous, french-inspired kitchen that has loads of natural light and gorgeous mexican ceramic tile everywhere.

I want to be settled, living in the place that my son is going to grow up, where there is sunshine and blue sky and mountains to be conquered and everything else that makes for a happy childhood.

I want security.
I want to know that we've got something tangible to hold onto, a place for us to go when life gets tough and things get lonely.
I want to know that I've always got a place to call "home" and that it's the place my heart lives in and the place that my family is content.

I feel like that dream I had, the one with the "dream house" and the big backyard, the one where we've got stable careers and cars that work, the one with the friends that come over for dinner and go out with us, has somehow made it's way into the land of "never coming true".
After all we've been through in this country, all the trials and anguish and tears, I feel like the dream of security is the one dream that the Lord has continuously impressed on me will not be coming true.

I'm not sure how to take it, and I'm not sure how to plan a future around it.
I am doing my best to live in the present, to enjoy the way my son grows every day (he has just discovered his hands. It is adorable.), and this incredibly precious time that we're getting to simply be a family.
And most of the time I do enjoy it. Most of the time I am content, in a sense, and we get through our days in a happy rhythm.

But then there are moments, where I wish, just for a second, that we had a direction to go in, a place to look forward to, and the knowledge that I would finally, finally be able to rest in that place.

Lately I keep coming back to the fact that God is my Father, and that He loves me just like I love my son (except in an even more perfect and unconditional manner).
In an effort to understand this, I find myself asking, "If Jameson was here, right now, what would you want for him?"
I can't help but think that I would want to give him the world in a heartbeat, but I know that in doing so, I would force him to miss all of the opportunities to grow and stretch his character that he will need later on in life. If I handed him everything he wanted on a platter, he would never know what it means to work, and to trust in something bigger than himself, because he wouldn't have to.
And maybe that is what God wants for us. For me.
Maybe there is still more to be learned, more growth to accomplish, more stretching to be done.
Maybe I don't know it all, and haven't taken everything out of this situation that there is to find.
Maybe I will never be done.
Maybe I will always be growing, and stretching, and maybe there is no such thing as security until I am in Heaven with the one who invented the concept.

I guess, until that time, I will simply be here.
Trying to take one day at a time and live in it for all it's worth.

lately:

2011-08-24T13:09:00.000+01:00

all I want to do is

eat peanut butter in copious amounts

snuggle with my two favorite guys

lay on a beach with blinding sun and crashing waves

laugh until I can't breathe

hike my mountains and stare at the valleys I conquered when I was younger

find a new place and just be.

ah, desire.
It'll take your heart and steal your mind, and if you're not careful
you might never get it back.

blank.

2011-08-01T22:05:00.000+01:00

I am tired.

Jameson was a month old two days ago, and all of a sudden I seem to have put this invisible expectation on myself that everything should be "back to normal".
Maybe I've subconsciously told myself that one month should be long enough to physically and mentally recover from giving birth, and now I should be back to keeping the house clean, food in the fridge, working out at the gym, and making sure that my social graces aren't lagging.

I've got fifty thank you cards/birth announcements to write.

My living room looks like a bomb full of random clutter exploded everywhere.

My fridge and pantry are so empty that cereal has become my "go-to" meal for the past week.

And (embarrassingly enough) I can't really remember the last time I had a proper shower.

I went to bed yesterday promising myself that I'd wake up and feed the baby, then go to the gym and get myself started on getting back into shape.
Then I actually woke up this morning, fed my fussy baby, and laid in bed thinking about how maybe I could just learn to live with myself the way that I am, and going to the gym was second in importance to trying to get just another hour of sleep.

I got Jameson to bed tonight, stared at the stack of blank thank-you cards waiting to be written, and subsequently collapsed on the couch instead (which is where I am currently located now).

I think that I'm so tired that I literally can't think straight anymore...my attention span has currently shortened to the length of time in between Jameson's meals (which is about an hour and a half) and I just feel like I'm walking around in a daze.

Maybe I just need someone to tell me that it's okay for me to still be a ragged mess a month after birth, and that people won't be offended if it takes me awhile to get their thank-you cards out.

Right?

pieces

2011-07-20T11:46:00.000+01:00

I've started and stopped numerous blog posts in the past two weeks.
I've also come up with five million different things that I want to write about and explore.

But to be honest, every time I find a moment to sit down at my computer (which has become quite rare), I just stare, and stare, and stare at the blinking cursor and wonder what on earth to write down.

I could talk about the endless anxiety I experience thinking about all of the things that could befall my husband and son, and how every day I must make a conscious effort to step out of my front door and not let that anxiety rule my life.

I could talk about the unbelievably dramatic way that my son has forced me to stop and live in this moment, right now. The way that I see him growing and changing so much already, and the second I start to contemplate what he will be like next week or next month, I make myself stop and appreciate where I am now. He is already slipping away into a different person, and is growing right before my eyes, and my biggest regret would be to overlook any of that.

I could talk about the fire I have to write, and write well. I could talk about how I recently discovered this blog, and the way that it has changed my thinking, as well as the tinge of jealousy I have every time I read it, because I so long to be able to communicate the way she does. Will I ever have that moment? Will I step up and fulfill that dream of mine?

I could talk about how my center of gravity has shifted to this baby I hold in my arms and love so much that my heart feels like it's going to explode. How being a mother is perfect, and how I wonder why I was so afraid that it would be so unfulfilling. It is the best thing I've ever done, and also the most simple, while carrying incredibly complex emotions behind it.

I could talk about it all, but instead, I am simply sitting here with my thoughts spinning so quickly that it is nearly impossible to catch one of them and make it coherent.

Maybe I'll get there one day.

Or maybe it will simply be the trying, and I'll be one voice in a background of many, hoping that someone will pick it out and want to listen.

one week (and a birth story)

2011-07-08T10:36:00.003+01:00

(This was supposed to be published yesterday, but I got sidetracked, so it's going up a day late. Oh well.)

My baby is one week old today.
I cannot believe it.
I've already got "bittersweet momma" moments going on as I realize that he looks different than he did a week ago--his cheeks are filling out, and he actually put weight on after being born instead of losing it, like most babies.

Words cannot describe all of my feelings about being a momma.
There are so many emotions wrapped up in this small, 7lb, 14 oz baby boy that I'm not sure I could even begin to dissect them if I wanted too.

Suffice it to say that I did not know it was possible to love another person so completely, simply because they exist. Not only that, but all of those fears I had about meeting my son and wondering who he was going to be have faded into the background as I look at him and realize, "I know you." There are moments when I feel like my heart is going to explode because I am so overwhelmed by him and everything he means. He is the most tangible answer to prayer I have ever gotten, and I feel so blessed and so unworthy all at once.

*Disclaimer: birth story to follow. If you don't want the details, it's probably a good idea to stop reading. I won't be offended, I promise. :)

On June 28th, when I was six days overdue, my midwife came over to do another check and see if I had made any progress. I had been examined four days earlier and was pretty much closed tight, with the outcome looking kind of grim. She let me know that an induction would be scheduled, but only until I was fourteen days overdue (unless there was a medical reason that we needed to get that baby out).

So, when she came on that Tuesday, I was preparing myself for more bad news, and had pretty much resigned myself to the fact that it was looking like I had an induction (and two extra weeks of pregnancy) ahead of me. However, when she performed the check, she found that I was 2cm dilated, 50% effaced, and Jameson had moved his head all the way down (even though he was still back-to-back). She performed a membrane sweep, and said that she would hold off on scheduling the induction because she felt like, "This ought to get things going."

A few hours after she left, I began having some irregular contractions that lasted throughout the rest of the day, all that night, and into Wednesday. Although I was getting excited, I also knew that this was called the "latent phase" of labor and could last anywhere from 24 hours to a week. By Wednesday night, however, my contractions were becoming a bit more painful, and a bit more regular. Hubs and I went to bed around midnight, and at 12:30 am, I started to feel this little trickle of liquid coming out, but being the people-pleaser that I am, I didn't want to let anyone know that my water had broken until I was sure...I think I ran into the bathroom about four times before I was convinced that I wasn't just accidentally peeing myself. When I decided that, yes, my water had broken, I got in the shower while Hubs went and woke up my parents to let them know that we were going to head to the hospital.

By the time we got into the labor ward, my contractions were getting stronger and much more regular than they had been. However, the midwife on-call decided not to do a check because she didn't want to introduce an infection, so she told us to go home and come back when my contractions were 2 minutes apart for at least an hour. But by the time we made it home, my contractions were a minute and a half apart, and coming on strong. Hubs put the TENS machine on my back, which helped for a bit, but about fifteen minutes after we got home, we decided that it was time to head back.

This time around, we went straight to the delivery suite, where the midwife on-call checked and found that I was 3-4 cm, which equaled active labor. I asked to labor in the birthing pool, and somehow managed to crawl in about 45 minutes later. Half an hour after getting into the water, the contractions were so strong that it literally felt like I was being ripped apart from the inside. I threw up from the pain, and began to panic--I had only been in active labor for an hour and a half, and there was no way that I was going to be able to make it through another few hours with contractions like these (or worse). The gas and air that I had planned on using to help me cope was doing nothing except to make me more nauseous than I already was. I started saying, "I can't do this. I cannot keep going like this. I need drugs. I want BIG drugs." The midwife tried to calm me down, saying that I couldn't have an epidural until my dilation was checked again, but they had a policy of not checking before four hours had passed from the previous check. She offered me some codeine, which I took, but knew that it wouldn't kick in for at least a half hour.

By now the panic was overwhelming and I was getting desperate. I could feel a lot of pressure, and (what I figured) was the sensation that I needed to start pushing. Hubs suggested that I have the midwife check how far along I was, even though it had only been an hour and a half since my last check, just so I could get my own bearings. So, although she didn't think that I had made much progress, she agreed to take a look. I managed to get out of the pool and back into my room, even though it seemed almost impossible to move. The midwife checked my progress and, come to find out, I was 9 centimeters. Yeah. 9. (No wonder I was panicking...I was going through transition and didn't know it.) Clearly surprised, she tried to reassure me with the fact that I was going to have a baby soon, and (unfortunately for me) drugs were not an option any more. With every contraction, the need to push got stronger, but I was told to breathe through it and fight that urge as much as possible. I needed to dilate to a 10 before pushing Jameson out, otherwise swelling could occur and that would make pushing him out that much longer (and more difficult). I asked when I would know that I could start pushing and she said, "When your body won't let you hold back anymore. Your body will take over and you won't be able to stop."

The back of the bed had been raised, and I crawled on top of it with my arms thrown over the back, in a kneeling position. Eventually, I started to push and couldn't stop. This was the stage that felt like forever, as I could feel his head moving down sloooowly with each push, but after I physically couldn't keep pushing, he would move back up. It felt like I was making absolutely no progress, and even though I knew that it was important for him to move down slowly in order to stretch everything out, it was frustrating. I finally felt him move down and stay there even after the contraction had finished. I knew his head was going to come out soon, and I geared myself up to push harder than I ever had. The next contraction hit, and the amount of energy it took to push his head out was unreal. It's almost hard to explain--it was a superhuman moment where I am sure that the Lord helped, because there was no way that I did that on my own.

After I felt his head come out, I tried to wait for the next contraction, but the delusional thought in my head was "I can't just leave him hanging there!" and so I decided to just push the rest of him out. It was almost like he slipped out on his own, and the midwife kind of jumped up to catch him. I had only been pushing for a half hour, but it felt like eternity.

After he was out, I started saying, "Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh." I picked him up off the bed, slippery and crying, and thought to myself, "Who is this little person that just came out of my body? I don't know who you are!" I stared at his face and couldn't believe that this was my son. My son, that had just been inside my body five minutes earlier. He looked just like his dad, and the first thing I said to Hubs was, "He has your nose!" Jameson only cried for a few minutes, and (after pooping all over me) we just stared at each other. The midwife left, and it was just the three of us in that little room. My two guys. My family.

--------------------------------

Although I spent most of my pregnancy trying to prepare myself for a natural birth, I don't think that there is anyway that I could have known how I was going to react until labor began. I truly did not want an epidural going into this whole thing, but by the time I hit transition (the puking and panicking stage) I was ready to try anything.

To be honest, I felt like a bit of a failure asking for one, since I had just spent the last nine months gearing up to do this without pain relief, but I knew that (had I not actually been 9 centimeters) there was no way that I could have made it through another few hours with contractions as strong as they were--I was physically and mentally exhausted, and it was more important to me to get Jameson out safely than to save face.

All of this to say, I think I'm grateful that everything went as quickly as it did, even though it meant that the pain became so intense so fast. It was only seven hours from my water breaking to actually pushing Jameson out, which is pretty unheard of for a first-time mother. Giving birth naturally is an experience I would not have wanted to miss, and I think my recovery has been quicker because of it. However, I understand completely (and have no judgment against in any way) why women opt for pain relief. Childbirth is something that words literally cannot describe and no one can prepare you for until you're actually going through it.

So there you go.

If you made it all the way, thanks for hanging in there.

This past week has been the biggest journey of my life, and we are simply getting through it day by day.

I am a happy woman, a blessed woman, and every time I look at my son, I am overwhelmed with the fact that God chose to let Hubs and I take care of this beautiful boy.

The end.

Jameson Jia Sheung Ho

2011-07-04T09:05:00.000+01:00

On June 30th, at 7:14 in the morning, Jameson baby made his grand entrance into the outside world.

We're on day 4 of life today, and although I don't quite have the energy to do a full post about his arrival just yet, I figured I'd do a little update to try and keep things current around here.

My recovery is going okay, and he is doing beautifully for such a new baby. Hubs and I are getting some decent amounts of sleep and are so thankful for my parents presence over the past few weeks--they have been lifesavers with all the cooking, cleaning, and crying-baby-comforting that they have been doing.

Jameson is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, and I cannot even begin to describe how much I love him. He is my answer to prayer, and the absolute best thing I have ever made.

We are happy.

overdue

2011-06-27T19:07:00.000+01:00

Today is June 27.

Jameson baby was due on June 22.

However, as of now, he has decided that he likes his current accommodations, and will not be joining the outside world for awhile.

Unfortunately for me, England has decided to get it's one week of summer now, which means that it is currently 90ish degrees and we don't have an air conditioner.
Despite wandering around in nothing but the smallest amount of clothing possible and drinking ice water, I am so hot and miserable that I'm not sure words can do it justice.

Also, my stretch marks appeared over night, which is a whole new battle to fight.
I think that I figured since I had gotten this far, maybe I had dodged them. Had my son come out on time, maybe I would have.
However, this is not the case, and so I am the proud new owner of a body that is completely unfamiliar.

Pray for me (and my husband).
I'm trying to remember what the finish line brings with it, and how much all of this will be worth it when I get there.
Plus, I will only be pregnant for nine more days at the most, since they'll induce me if I go fourteen days overdue. It might sound pessimistic, but I am trying to ready myself for this, since the midwife did not make my situation sound very promising at my last visit.
She comes tomorrow to check things over again, but I don't really think much progress has been made.
Again, I'm just reminding myself that he will come out eventually, even if it's July 6.

Sorry for the whining...I just had to let it out somewhere.

-C

short and sweet

2011-06-18T09:28:00.001+01:00

I don't have a ton of time to post a major update, but for those of you that were wondering, Jordan and Brandi's visit was just as amazing (in fact, maybe even more so) than we expected.

We asked them to be Jameson's godparents and they enthusiastically said yes.

Hubs and I are so, so blessed to have these two in our lives.

There's not really a better way to put it than that, so there you go.

My parents are here with us now, which is another amazing and slightly surreal thing, and we are all anxiously awaiting the moment I go in to labor.

Which will hopefully not be very long, considering that I'm due in four days, and I would just really like him to come out sooner rather than later, so that he can spend a good amount of time with his grandparents as an outside baby.

So, if you don't mind, can we all just pray that Jameson baby gets the show on the road today? Or even tomorrow? Cause that would be excellent.

I know that it's short, but I'll post a more thorough update as soon as my head stops spinning from the amount of amazing people that have come through my house in such a short time.

For now, we are happy, and content with waiting for our baby, and that is enough.

thoughts

2011-06-09T13:56:00.003+01:00

I'm not in labor yet.

So, I mean, there's not much new to report on this side of the world.

Oh, except that our bff's from Moody are coming to visit us and will be in our apartment less than 24 hours from now!

Seriously, Hubs and I love these two.

We've been friends with them ever since our freshman year at Moody (Daveo and Jordan were both on the varsity soccer team, and Brandi and I transferred in together).

They've been through the ups and downs of our dating/engagement/break-up/re-engagement/marriage, and we've gotten to be there for them through the years of Jordan-likes-Brandi, Brandi-doesn't-know-how-she-feels, to finally dating, being a part of their engagement, and then having the honor of being in their wedding.

Fall 2007

Buckingham Fountain, Chicago

Fall 2007

Spring 2008

The Drake Hotel, Chicago

Sept. 25, 2010

We miss them so much, that a day rarely goes by when we don't look at each other and say, "You should text/call/facebook that to Jord and Bran." And then we go, "Oh my gosh, how much do we miss them?"

A lot. We miss them a lot.

So the fact that they are coming to see us all the way on the other side of the world is amazing and wonderful, and we can't wait until they get here.

*Wedding photo credit goes to MBach Photography

preview

2011-06-04T15:18:00.000+01:00

So, I've been wanting to take maternity pictures for ages (especially before my face puffs up and I start to look like Marshmallow Man).

However, there was no way that we could afford to pay for a shoot in a studio, so Hubs and I decided to host our own. On one of our neighborhood walks, we found a shortcut back to this random field, and figured that it would probably be a great place to take some shots.

*Cue us packing up camera equipment (and even a change of clothes!) and trekking through the forest to get there.

Hubs did a fantastic job and we even got some shots of the two of us (with the help of our self-timer) and I am pretty darn happy with the way they turned out. I've got some editing work ahead of me, but here's a peek at the few that I've managed to work on.

So there you have it.

I'll put a link up to the rest as soon as I finish them up.

What do you think?

a letter.

2011-06-02T13:15:00.000+01:00

May 29, 2011

Dear Jameson,
Although there are still 24 days left until your due date, I can't help but wonder if I'm going to meet you a little sooner. At the moment, you've got your bum stuck way out on my right side while you kindly jab your heels into my left kidney--clearly you are running out of room. Not only that, but we're nearing you're favorite time of day--1 am, which means you're about to get a dance party started in my belly.

It's a strange thing, being pregnant with you--knowing that you're in there growing, thinking your own thoughts with your own personality already. To be honest, even though I know that I made you, you feel like a stranger in so many ways. You are already your own person, who does exactly what he wants to. This scares me in some ways, since it makes it difficult for me to picture your life--who will you be at five? Fifteen? Twenty-five? Will you still love me, or will you look at me with eyes that only see a failing human being? Your dad says that worrying about these things is pointless, but I can't help it. You are my son, my firstborn, the child I dreamt about while I was still a child--and I love you so much that it scares me. I think I am afraid you will break my heart.

Whatever you do and whoever you become, I hope you know that I'll love you forever. You are my greatest accomplishment, my best work. I could go on to write a hundred books and sing a thousand songs, but you will always be my most beautiful creation.

My hopes for you are small, but important. I hope you love the Lord with all your heart and follow Him always, even when you don't think you can. I hope you find a woman who loves you, and takes care of you, but also puts you in your place. I hope you love her more than yourself and cherish her more than anything on this earth. I hope the regrets you will have in life are not so big that they become insurmountable, but not so small that you fail to learn from them. I hope you are like your dad, with a bit of me mixed in, and that you embrace exactly who you are with abandon.

My baby, my son, my answer to prayer--
I love you more than any words can say.

Mom

marriage.

2011-05-30T15:54:00.000+01:00

Tomorrow marks three years since I put on a pretty white dress, picked up a bouquet of red roses, and walked down the aisle to marry the man who had become my best friend.

Three years has seen us go through so, so much--more than I could have ever imagined.

There have been moments where I wondered if we'd ever make it,

moments that I wanted to scream, "This is not what I signed up for!",

and moments where I was convinced that there was no way on earth I could ever feel happier.

I could write a million sappy words, but they would never cover it.

So, here are pictures of our moments instead.

Engaged in Paris

August 6, 2007

 The Beginning

May 31, 2008

 Honeymoon in Cancun

2008

Our first apartment!

June 2008

Late nights spent studying.

2008

Fall 2009

Graduation!

December 2009

Two year anniversary

(Evanston, Illinois) 

May 31, 2010

Summer 2010

 Uptown Ribfest

August 2010

The Glass House

September 2010

Last nights in Chicago

October 2010

We're having a baby!

October 2010

Moving to England

November 1, 2010

Today.

May 30, 2011
-------------------------------

Husband,
You are the best thing that's ever happened to me.
You push me to be better, and even though sometimes I feel like I might hate you for it, I'm glad you don't let me settle. The longer we're together, the better we fit each other, and there is no one else in the world I could imagine even attempting to live this life with.
I can't wait for this jump into being parents, and even though it scares me sometimes, I know that we're going to do it (and do it well) because we've already decided to be together forever.

Quite simply, I love you.
Your wife.

a percolator.

2011-05-26T13:59:00.001+01:00

My brain is stewing things around right now, but none of it is coherent enough to craft into sensible sentences.

So, for now, here's a picture of me and my giant 36-week-pregnant belly (can you tell that he's dropped? 'cause I can. Ha.):

Also, my "What To Expect When You're Expecting" app has just informed me that my baby is the size of a watermelon.

Whoa.

It's no wonder I have to lift my stomach up when I roll over in bed at night.

Although I am the crankiest person on the planet right now, due to the ridiculous amount of uncomfortableness I am experiencing, God keeps whacking me on the head with the fact that all of this (including the heartburn, nausea, backache, grinding hips, sciatica, insomnia, exhaustion, pelvic ligaments that are too loose, and electric shocks that occur when Jameson stabs me with his heels) is a blessing and I need to treat it that way.

I have a healthy baby growing inside of me, and I am just a few weeks away from meeting him.

I couldn't ask for anything more than that.

things i don't understand.

2011-05-21T08:06:00.000+01:00

I don't even know what words to use to begin to write anymore.

I don't know where to start, and I don't think I'll ever know where it ends.

There is so much, so much, and I just don't know how to sort through it all and make it come out the way I want it to.

I don't understand why God is the way He is, and why He lets some things happen, and stops other things dead in their tracks.

I don't understand His logic or His wisdom, and every time I think I have His character nailed down, I come across something else that changes it dramatically.

I don't understand His purposes, or His timing, or even His will. I'm not sure whether or not I believe that God has all of the minute details of my life laid out, or just exactly how much He's going to leave up to me to figure out.

I don't know if moving to England was "God's will" for us, and I know even less about whether we should stay here long-term or look at moving on to somewhere else.

I don't know whether God chose my husband for me, or if I made that decision, and then it became what God would have me do. I do know that God has molded us together over the past three years, and we have become "the One" for each other, but I'm not sure that I can say that my husband was the only one out there for me in the beginning.

I don't understand why God chose to bless us with a (so far) healthy baby boy that is growing in my belly who I get closer and closer to meeting every day, when He has somehow seen fit to take other growing babies away from women who would make far better mothers than I.

I don't understand why it is so easy for me to question God through the difficulties, and yet live a lukewarm life through the times where I am not desperate for answers. Why does my heart waver so much?

I am so thirsty.

I long to know and be full to the brim with the knowledge and understanding of this God that loves me.

More than anything, I want to trust Him through everything.

I want to be a woman so full of faith that nothing can shake me.

I'm clearly not there yet.

And I don't think I'll ever completely understand.

But for now there is a child inside of me, a husband that shows me what sacrificial love looks like on a daily basis and a small enough seed of faith to push me through to the other side.

And that is enough.

a list.

2011-05-16T21:35:00.000+01:00

I've got too much swirling around in my head today to try and sort it out at length, so I'm just going to throw things out in a random list.
Maybe this will help.

*Three days after my burst of nesting energy, I am proud to say that Jameson's room is now painted, partly decorated, and he has a brand new moses basket to sleep in. Not only that, but the top of our dresser has been converted into a changing table, complete with baskets full of onesies and sleepers for when he poops all over himself in the middle of the night. Also, my hospital bag is pretty much packed and I even printed out our "birth plan", so if I go into labor tomorrow (not likely) we're prepared.
I'll post some pictures of the nursery as soon as we get the rest of the decor hung...It's so cute, and I can't believe how much I am in love with it.

*Went to an aqua class after being out of it for a week or so. (The bank holidays over here really throw a wrench in your daily schedule...all of my classes at the gym were canceled for two weeks and I just couldn't muster up the energy to go to the gym on my own. Except once.) It was a good class, and it felt good to work my muscles again, but at the same time I couldn't help but sit there and feel guilty for not doing more through this pregnancy. I know that I've done well, and I am proud of myself for not turning into the whale-monster that I was afraid of when I first got pregnant. It's just that nagging problem I have of tearing myself down and finding ways to turn myself into a failure.
Before I got pregnant, I had finally gotten to a place in my life where I was consistently in control of my body. My weight was where I wanted it to be, I finally felt like I looked good, and I actually began to believe that I was not at the mercy of my random DNA makeup. Going into pregnancy, I knew that my body was going to change, and I knew that it was important for me to do as much as I could to ensure that it changed in the right way. Although I've done that, and have stayed in the recommended weight gain, I still have these moments where I feel like I just should have done more. I'm sure there's a lesson from the Lord in here somewhere, about being patient and learning to value myself, but to be really honest, I just can't wait until Jameson is here and I am able to go back to being in control of my body, because it's on a mutiny right now and I don't have much choice except to wait it out.

*I miss America. A lot. And at the moment, this is not because I hate England (although I have my moments), this is simply because I miss my home. That, and really good cheeseburgers.

There is more, but my 8-month pregnant brain just can't handle rustling it up.

Please don't read this and think that I'm still consistently down.

I'm not.

It's just tonight, and it's just these moments of fear and doubt.

In truth, God has been good to us, and we are in a much better place than we were a few months ago. Things are definitely not perfect, and we're still slogging through, but there needs to be an acknowledgement of blessing and provision, because He showed up.

Just like we hoped He would.

nesting

2011-05-09T11:40:00.001+01:00

First of all, let me apologize for the haphazard appearance of my blog right now.

I started the redesigning process, got frustrated with the template I was working in and haven't had the energy to wade through all of the HTML and other things since. However, it's driving me crazy to look at, so it will get done soon.

Secondly, I now fully understand what pregnant women mean when they talk about nesting.

Our American friends over here, Erica and Zac, just had their baby boy, Clive Weatherly, yesterday. He is a beautiful 8 lbs., 7 oz. and 21 inches long. Hubs and I were lucky enough to be able to visit them in the hospital and it was such a surreal experience. Ever since I got over here, Erica and I have been pregnant together, moaning about all of the aches and pains we were going through and speculating about what labor was really going to be like.

But now that she's had Clive (and she actually does know what labor is like), I'm the lone pregnant ranger. It seems that the reality that there is actually a real baby in my belly who will be making an appearance sometime in the next seven weeks has truly sunk in, and I am like a crazy woman on a mission.

I had a mini-panic attack last night, thinking about all of the things we have left to do before Jameson gets here, and the first thing I thought about this morning was "Lists. I've got to make lists."
So, suffice it to say that I have a "Nesting List" broken down into three categories with the things to-do underneath each heading.

(When I get stressed, my OCD tendencies start to really show themselves. Ha.)

I have this sudden burst of energy now, and my husband has actually said that he is afraid of me.

Let the fun begin.

alive.

2011-04-24T15:16:00.001+01:00

It's three p.m. on Easter Sunday, and I've spent the morning doing my best to reflect on the incredible meaning behind this holiday, as well as trying to feel the adequate amount of joy I should be feeling.
This day is arguably the most important to Christians around the world, and it should probably be the one in which we feel the most hope, and the incredible promise that comes out of it.

"In their fright the women bowed down with their faces to the ground, but the men said to them, “Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here; he has risen!"
Luke 24:5-6a

In an effort to maintain my honesty, I will admit that I have been having a hard time rejoicing today. This is frustrating and guilt-inducing, especially since I can't quite pinpoint why. I should be able to put aside my physical and mental struggles for one day, in order to celebrate the most momentous day in history, right?

I read through all four gospel accounts of the resurrection, truly trying to see the magnificence of it all.

I put on the Christian music that I usually avoid, hoping that some sort of holiness would penetrate my brain.

I asked God to please give me something, because I don't want to mope around today.

But, nothing.

Until this.

(It's the cheesiest video ever, but the only one I could find on short notice. Please just listen to the song while you look at something else.)

This is my heart cry.

I need to be brought to life today. That's all I want.

I need to be resurrected with Christ, instead of staying in the tomb waiting for someone to come and get me--because He already has.

So once again, I will continue to wait and seek and cling on to that last thread of hope that I've got.

Because that's the promise for today.

“For through the law I died to the law so that I might live for God. I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I now live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me."

Galatians 2:19-20

I may feel dead, but Christ is alive, and that is all that matters.

time.

2011-04-07T13:45:00.000+01:00

I guess it's time.
I'm sitting here, in my living room on a thursday afternoon while the sky is blue and there is sun shining in through my windows, and I'm trying to realize that spring is coming and this is symbolic in more ways than one.

Since I've always been honest on here, I guess there is no reason why that should stop being the case now.

We've been living in this country for just over five months now.

We arrived with eight suitcases on a freezing and rainy November 1, and since then, life has consisted of working through each new day that has been thrown at us.
When we first arrived, we were empty of things, but full of hope. We had literally stripped ourselves of our possessions and brought with us what we could carry, along with the baby growing in my belly and the belief that this was going to be the place for us.
We were finally going to put roots down, settle in, and make a life for ourselves. We had the promise of a job with a good-looking outcome for Hubs, the knowledge that I could work anywhere I found myself, and the belief that soon we would be able to start "moving up" in the world.
No more cockroach infested apartments, or budgeting until we were blue in the face.

Reality check.

The job was not what it first appeared to be, and although we held onto it's promise for so long, it has recently become clear that there is no way it is going to work.
I lost all but one of my clients, not due to anything I had done, but simply because business models are changing and I didn't fit in anymore. Not only that, but I am now in my third trimester, and finding clients only to tell them that I will be taking six months of maternity leave after the baby is born, is not really ideal.
This country is expensive, with hidden fees and other things lurking around different corners, and somehow we did not find out about it all until we got here.
This is a different place, one that I don't really fit into all that well. I'm so much more 'American' than I thought I was, and although I have found friends, I am struggling to be myself and have that be okay. I find myself holding back, and taming myself down in order to fit into the landscape, and although this is okay, it means that no one really knows who I am and likes me for it.

I have been angry at God for a long time.

I felt like He had clearly led us to this place, obviously opened doors and allowed us to walk through them.

My spousal visa came through in three weeks, which is nearly unheard of.

We had the promise of this job, and security, and the opportunity to make a life somewhere we thought we wanted to be.

We got pregnant with our baby at exactly the right time so that all of the tiny little dreams I had worked out.

This was supposed to be it for us.

I felt like God gave us the promise of these dreams, and for all intents and purposes, it looked like they were going to be fulfilled.
Now, five months later, this is not the case.
And to be honest, I've hesitated to share with anyone about it, simply because I didn't want to put up with the pitiful looks, and the nice "Christiany" sentiments comparing us to Job or listening to "Footprints in the Sand" being quoted at me.
I'm not trying to be sarcastic or offensive, these things are comforting in the right time and place, it's simply that this situation can't be fixed with a nice, neat answer.

In fact, all I've got right now is this:

"So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own." [Matt. 6:31-34]

I've read this passage at least fifty times.
But look at it. Really look at it.
What's the promise?

God knows what I need.

If I seek after Him, He will provide for my needs.

Today.

And that's all we're given. No promise for tomorrow.

In fact, I'm told to not even look at tomorrow, because I've got to focus on getting through today.

The past five months have been about God whittling away this entitled part of me, and putting it to death. It means that He is taking all of my desires, be they selfish or not, and simply giving me one day at a time to live through. He is meeting my most basic needs, and He is forcing me to accept the fact that this is all I am allowed to expect from Him.

I hate this.
I don't understand the ultimate reason or purpose that God allowed us to come here and find ourselves in this situation.
I can't pretend to be happy and joyful, when inside there is still (it's much smaller, but it's there) a part of me that screams, "Why can't I have this? What is so wrong with wanting this or needing this that You won't just let me have it?"

However, there is a light at the end of it all, and even though it's small, it's there.
My husband and I have never been so happy or strong in our marriage. Life is becoming pure, in that we have so little, that we are truly learning to indulge in such small moments.
My son, my son, is growing and is healthy inside of me, and I get to meet him in such a short amount of time and finally hold the baby that I ached over for so long.
I so appreciate the incredible people that God has allowed me to find. The close friendships that I have are truly unique, because I have yet to find one like them in another country, and I now realize just how amazing the people are who love me despite knowing me completely.
We are still surviving, and still making it through each day, incredibly.
Although some days I wake up, and it feels like there is no way that we're going to make it, we always do. And one day at a time, we're continuing to get through this.
I don't know how we are, but we are.

And so that's it.
I've avoided coming here for so long, because I wasn't ready to hash this out on a public forum, and I just wasn't ready to be completely honest about my life.
Maybe I'm still not.
However, the window is open now, and maybe sometime in the future I'll be able to open the door and let all twelve of you in.
But for now, this is what I've got.

three months

2011-03-23T16:31:00.000Z

My third trimester starts today.

Jameson Jia Sheung Ho is due three months from yesterday.

I'm not sure that I've even really got my head wrapped around this quite yet. I think it still feels far away, but at the same time it is drawing imminently closer and I am trying not to run around in a panic about all of the things that I would like to have done before he gets here.

Although this has probably been the most trying time in our lives (for many reasons), I look around and I see the fact that we have still been given all of the things we need to bring our son into the world and take care of him for the first few months of his life.

I'm not too sure about the months afterwards, but I am doing my best to rest in the knowledge that at least the "now" is taken care of.

To tell you the truth, I am so in love with my son, that three months almost feels like an unbearable amount of time to wait to meet him.

I want to be a mom now, and time is ticking by.

Although I am still dealing with the realities of labor and birth, when I think about my baby, it's almost like an afterthought.

The little person I have waited for my entire life is almost here, and I am as ready as I will ever be.

hiatus

2011-03-17T20:42:00.000Z

I'm taking a break for awhile.

I'm not sure when I'll be back. I know that I'm not finished here, and that I do love having this blog as a creative outlet, but right now, I just can't muster up the energy or enthusiasm to keep it going regularly.
If that means that my chances at gaining 100 followers has been shot down, well, so be it.

There are bigger fish to fry than how many people are google following, or what kind of fashion trends are just coming up, or all of the clothes there are to buy and how on earth to make it through 30 days without buying anything new.

*insert sarcastic tone here*

I'm not shutting it down, or making it private, or anything like that.
Just letting you know that I won't be around regularly again for awhile.
I'll let you know when I make it back.

family

2011-02-22T22:16:00.000Z

My lovely cousin Kati flew into London on Sunday, and we got the chance to spend almost 36 hours with her before she hopped on a bus to Swansea, to visit some old friends from her semester abroad there.

It was beyond amazing to have a family member here in this crazy place with me, and we were a pair, the two of us.

I am (feeling) hugely pregnant, and she was jet-lagged, so poor Hubs had to deal with two loud, tired Americans wandering London.

It was wonderful.
Here is some photographic proof.

Outside Westminster Abbey, before we went in for the Sunday service, which Kati and Dave both dozed through.

No judgment.

Tower of London, and what the weather has looked like ever since I got here.

This Starbucks is so sentimental, cause it's one of the first places Hubs took me the first time I came to England to visit him.

I dragged the two of them around until we found it, and then I made them take pictures of me in front of it.
Someday I'll be that skinny again.

We went to Kings Cross in search of Platform 9 3/4, and we found this...A plastic picture of a brick wall while they do construction on the rest of the station.

Boo.

Love.

They're so cute.

We had such a good time, and it was so nice to be with someone who knows who I am, and who's been with me since...I was born, really.

Relaxing, and freeing, and a much-needed break from daily life.

Not to mention that she brought packets of ranch dressing, enchilada sauce, and the cutest baby items I have ever seen.

Love you, K!

contentment.

2011-02-18T16:11:00.000Z

My days are spent remembering this:

While living in this:

Maybe the weather's starting to get to me, and I'm starting to get my S.A.D on, maybe it's a combination of pregnancy hormones and homesickness, but whatever it is, I am lacking contentment in a big way.
My self-centered, selfish human nature is whispering in my ear that I deserve more than this.

A trip to a sunny island shouldn't be so out of the question.

Getting a manicure, or a hair cut, or a massage shouldn't be such a big issue.

Going out for a nice dinner shouldn't be "not an option".

And even though I know it's not true, I've got the devil on my shoulder doing his best to make sure that I feel like I'm lacking just enough to make me want to turn and run.
If you know me, you know that I struggle with making comparisons, and looking at what other people have and finding what I don't.
It's a thorn in the flesh, and a big issue, and something I struggle through daily.
And I'm going to be honest and say that I'm struggling a lot right now.

I hate the weather.

I hate not having a car and being confined to places within walking distance.

I hate going to the grocery store and seeing nothing familiar and trying to figure out why it's called bicarbonate soda and not baking soda.

I miss being surrounded by people that know me, and know who I am, and are comfortable with that so that I don't have to modify my behavior to be accepted.

I'm tired of introducing myself and feeling like an outsider as soon as I open my mouth.

There is this, and there is so much more, but I won't go on, to spare myself some dignity.
I don't have a "happy ending" note for this, other than I am at the end of my rope, and trusting that God will take it from there.

Prayers, encouragement, and hamburgers are appreciated.

-C

to my love

2011-02-13T22:10:00.000Z

Tomorrow is the fifth anniversary of our first date.

I love you so much more now than I did then, even though, at the time, I thought that my heart could never feel more full.

In honor of you, and the incredible way you came into my life and turned it upside down, here are some pictures to help you remember (cause I know you try, but details aren't your strong point).

I love you, and I cannot wait to watch you become a daddy and teach our son how to love a woman the way you love me.

I am so proud of you, and of the fact that I get to be called your wife.

-----------------

Valentine's Day 2007

We had only been interested in each other for a few weeks, and you told me that you didn't want our first date to be on Valentine's day, because it was too much pressure. I thought that was smart, and wasn't expecting anything from you that day...

When I woke up, you called me and met me in the lobby of my dorm, holding a bag of your favorite European chocolates ('cause American chocolate does not hold up to your standards) and a pot of mini roses, so that they wouldn't die like a big bouquet.

We said we'd meet up later, and I went back upstairs to do some homework...

Then you called me a few hours later and said you'd changed your mind.

So, did I want to go to dinner at five or eight?

This was our first picture together, and I was so nervous getting ready. All of the other dates I had been on up until now had just been awful, and I was so afraid that this one would follow suit.

In fact, I almost called to cancel on you, but my roommate did my hair, let me borrow her camera, and told me to have fun, but to NOT kiss you. : )

You somehow discovered that Italian food was one of my favorites and took me to such a cute restaurant by school. You made me try veal, and I ordered ravioli and couldn't believe that I was so happy and having so much fun on an official date.

After dinner was over, we walked to the Starbucks under the El tracks, which was deserted that night. We sat in a table in the corner, and when a slow John Lennon song came on, you asked me to dance.

I said yes.

You took me back early, because you said you didn't want anything to ruin the best night we'd had...but you called me an hour later, just so that we could talk about the best night we'd had.

You were the first man to ever pursue me and treat me like I was special.

I couldn't believe you had picked me.

-------------------

Valentine's Day 2008

This was our first Valentine's day after we had gotten engaged, and you surprised me by showing up at my work with a dozen roses and a box of your favorite chocolates.

You also had something special, that I knew you had been working on for ages, but I just couldn't figure out what it was...

I opened up a card from you, and inside were two "pretend" tickets that you had made.

We were going to Barcelona!

Your sister was getting married over spring break, and you and I were both flying back to England for the wedding. But you'd booked a day trip to Barcelona for us, in an effort to culturally educate your wife-to-be, and I could not believe it.

Tickets to Barcelona definitely eclipsed the night that I had planned for us.

All the girls at work were so jealous, and I couldn't believe that I had your ring on my finger, and that we were going to get married in just three months.

-----------------

Valentine's Day 2009

Our first Valentine's day after we got married, and I didn't know what to expect.

I woke up to the cat throwing up that morning, and stumbled into the kitchen to find a bouquet of roses, along with a red mug from Starbucks complete with a bag of coffee and mocha mix. You were so upset that I found out that way, because you had wanted it to be a surprise, but I just laughed and told you that it was special anyway (despite the fact that we had to bathe the cat at seven in the morning before you left for work).

You kissed me goodbye and told me to go back to sleep.

When I woke up, I found a letter on your pillow.

Inside, you talked about how no one ever said "I love you" to God in the Old Testament, but rather they showed it by their actions.

You said that it was so important to make sure that we showed our love for one another, and that was why I needed to pack an overnight bag and meet you downtown.

You'd booked a room for us at the Hilton on Michigan Avenue, and you took me to a blues bar before dinner because you know just how much I love that (and how much it reminds me of home).

Then you took me to a trendy new restaurant that wasn't that great, but we were both so happy that it didn't matter. This year, you bought me a chocolate bar that had creme brulee pieces inside, because that was our favorite dessert together and we spent the night watching movies in that giant king size bed.

I honestly thought that being married to you couldn't get any better than those moments.

-------------------

Valentine's Day 2010

I woke up to the coffee grinder and the smell of waffles...but I figured I was dreaming, so I went back to sleep. An hour later, you woke me up with a kitty on a tray, followed by a gluten-free waffle covered in whipped cream and raspberries (my favorite way to eat them).

You'd woken up early, and gone to the store in the snow to get everything you needed to make me breakfast in bed, even though you had no idea how to make waffles.

You even bought me red juice, and gave me pink and red carnations, along with a "Te amo" balloon (they ran out of the "I Love You ones at the store).

Kitty licked the whipped cream off my waffle and we laughed, while I sat in bed and couldn't understand how I had found someone who would do something like wake up early and cook for me, when you had hardly done anything like it before.

It was so small, but so big, and we were so happy that it almost hurt.

Every year, I think it can't be better than the year before, but I'm always wrong.

Every day with you is an adventure, and even though you can make me so mad, you can make me happier than anyone else.

I love the way that we laugh at the smallest, most stupid things.

I love the way that I can tell you any thought in my crazy head, and you just smile knowingly like, "My crazy wife".

I love the way that you talk to my belly, and how your son knows your voice and responds to it.

I love the fact that you brought me to a scary new country, and haven't left my side once. You take care of me better than I could have imagined, and I am so honored to be yours.

I love you, babe.

just give me a moment.

2011-02-10T12:32:00.001Z

I'm listening to an amazing music mix that is bringing back nostalgia in the extreme.
I'm thinking about coffee shops in the city, amazing evenings with my husband, cupcakes with friends, and the life I left behind.

I've been doing so well lately, truly living where I am at, that this is kind of taking me by surprise.

But I think this is how moving on happens.

Piece by piece, your heart spits it back out at you while the hole slowly closes and you begin to lose the pain you felt when you looked back before.

"You can't just turn your heart off like a faucet; you have to go to the source and dry it out, drop by drop." 

-Sarah Dessen (Someone Like You)

Moments

LaSalle st.

ca. 2007

Oak Street Beach

ca. 2007

My favorite barista

ca. 2008

Dollop

ca. 2008

Life

ca. 2008

The Coffee Studio

ca. 2009

The last days

ca. 2010

Whispers

ca. 2010

Our kind of town

ca. 2010

son.

2011-02-03T20:18:00.000Z

It's a boy.

That tiny little "it" I've been carrying around for the past twenty weeks has always been a boy.

My boy.
My son.

I cannot even begin to describe what it is like to type those words, let alone see them and know that I wrote them.

I'm going to be honest and say that I was ~~kind of~~ disappointed when the ultrasound tech said that he was "300% sure" that our baby is a boy.
I've been walking around with visions of ballet, and lace, and sequins for the past few months and to have that replaced with dirt, and frogs, and mayhem was an...adjustment.

However.
That boy in there is still that baby that I have been falling in love with, that I have been feeling kick and wiggle in my belly, and he is still mine.

I'm scared for this, yes.
I feel like I've got a handle on girls, I know what to do...but when it comes to boys, I feel slightly lost.

But he's my boy.

My son.

And I'm his mom.

And that's it.
That's all there is.

two days

2011-01-30T17:46:00.002Z

I am failing miserably at this whole 365 photo thing.
It's pretty pitiful.
I keep my camera out in the hopes that I'll remember to just take a picture for the day, but then I forget, or am too tired, or can't think of anything to photograph and I go to sleep and the next day comes and I'm missing another day.

Remember how I wasn't making resolutions so that I couldn't fail?

Well, I still feel like I'm failing.

Apparently, God works on our issues even in the small things--like reminders that perfection is never attainable, and the important thing is to just keep going, even when you've already missed the mark.

As cliche as it sounds, the learning is in the journey, not the arrival.
Move to another country, and this phrase will become infinitely more understandable and complex, all at once.

So, enough soppy for one day. Have some pictures.

Jan. 25, 2011

Erica and Inga posing in front of Erica's art show display.

Love it.

Jan. 29, 2011

A shot out the window of the Divinity School at the Bodleian Library in Oxford.

I'm kind of in love with this shot, but I'm not sure that I can tell you why...maybe because it was just unexpected.

---------------------------------------

That's all I've got for now.

I'm tired and have been wrestling through a lot of things having to do with creativity and my purpose lately.

I'm sure that I'll dump it all out here after I've had a chance to process it, but for now I'm just trying to deal with the fact that I feel sort of stopped up...Words aren't enough right now, and the photos I'm taking just aren't translating the way I hoped.

Essentially, I feel like I'm in this creatively frustrated funk, but instead of moaning about it and passively waiting for it to pass, I'm trying to take the road where I wrestle with it all and break through this wall that seems to have been erected without my knowledge around my brain.

So, the inspiration has slowed to a trickle, but I'm doing my best to siphon that trickle into these words and these photographs in the hopes that eventually it could turn into a steady stream, and one day, a big flood of creativity that will just last me forever.

Ha.

A girl can dream.

For now, we are working on settling in and finding our people.

And this is me, just putting my head down and bracing my way through it.

finally.

2011-01-28T15:43:00.001Z

My apologies for the quiet around here.
I've been checking nearly every day to see if my iPhoto would sync up to blogger, and it just decided to upload my photos today.
I know that these aren't all the pictures for the days I've missed, but it's at least a couple.
Plus, I have some great shots from our trip to Leeds Castle, but that'll have to be another post, cause I am a woman drowning in work and definitely cannot sit on my blog all day (as much as I would like to).

Jan. 18, 2011.

I was definitely scraping for something to take pictures of, and then the pineapple we had just been given caught my eye.

Jan. 19, 2011

Again, looking for inspiration in the usual places.

These are in my kitchen--tea jars!

Jan. 20, 2011

We had friends over for dinner, and I liked the way the table looked, all set up for everyone.

Not great, but it's a picture.

Jan. 21, 2011

Probably one of my favorite photographs that I have ever taken.

I am utterly in love with it.

In the library at Leeds Castle.

Jan. 23, 2011

I missed a day.

We all knew it would happen.

This was taken outside of our church, All Saints Loose.

I promise to write a more elaborate post in the near future, just as soon as I find my way out of all the work I am currently buried under.

On a completely unrelated note, my baby has decided to nestle up on my right side, and my little belly's all lopsided.

I fall in love with this baby more and more every single day.

technicalities

2011-01-22T11:14:00.000Z

For some reason, blogger won't sync with my iPhoto and realize that I have taken new pictures and written new blog posts to be put up.

Ugh.

In other news, my child kicked so hard the other day that I was able to see it, as well as feel it a little later on. I'm beginning to think that this baby already has a very strong will and a very unique personality. Nothing like it's mother, of course.

We find out what we're having in about a week and a half and I. cannot. wait.
Hubs and I have a debate going as to whether or not it's a boy or a girl.
He's convinced it's a boy, and I was leaning that way too, until I started to feel it moving. For some reason, ever since that happened I've just gotten it into my head that it is actually a she.
So who knows?

I've been trying my best to take pictures every day and definitely not succeeding, but I'm at least taking some.
We're taking an expedition today and I am definitely bringing my camera, so maybe I'll have something to show for it (if Blogger ever decides to cooperate with my computer again).

So, all of this to say that I am still here, and really am trying to get this going faithfully, but technology has not been on my side.
Boo.

365

2011-01-17T20:40:00.000Z

So.
After a ridiculously long absence, Hubs and I have moved into our new flat, secured a "dongle" (ridiculous term, I know) so that we can get an internet connection while we're waiting for the real internet guy to come and set it all up for us, and are finally, finally settling into life here.
So, hopefully that means all of my promises about blogging more will actually begin to come into fruition.
Hopefully.

In an effort to spur myself along, I've decided to take up a new challenge.
In fact, it's probably the only thing that comes close to a "new year's resolution", cause I'm doing the trendy thing and just not making any this year.
(Cami-1, Failure-0)

Anyway, I've been reading about other bloggers/photographers participating in something called 365 photo and have decided to do it myself. It basically involves taking at least one photograph a day for a year, and I think it's the perfect thing for me.

I've been really wanting to focus more on developing my (very amateur) photography skills, and I feel like this will push me where I want to go, as well as help me get a better grip on my particular style. Not to mention that it will simply force me to take more pictures.

So, the goal is to put a picture up every day, whether I write something or not.
That'll (hopefully) get me blogging more as well.

Without further ado, day one:

I'm really excited about this chance to push myself outside of my comfort zone and see what comes out of the camera.
Please feel free to leave (constructive) criticism and other thoughts. I'd love to know how the twelve of you feel, and whether or not anyone else is taking on a challenge like this as well.

Also, just a sidenote, these pictures are lightly, if at all processed, due to the fact that I've only got iPhoto and a child on the way, so buying an Adobe suite is kind of out of the question for us. : )

job.

2011-01-04T13:02:00.000Z

This year, I decided to switch things up, and am currently reading through the Bible in chronological order.
This means that I'm getting to read events as they happened, rather than jumping back and forth between stories by going straight through the Bible. So, the first three days consisted of reading Genesis 1-11 (which covers Creation, the Fall of man, Noah and the Flood, and the Tower of Babel, and subsequent scattering of people around the earth). Today I started reading Job, who's story actually takes place before the birth of Abraham.

Although I've gone through it before, and I can tell you the basics, for some reason it hit me harder today. Here is a man, who, for all intents and purposes, is living his life in the most holy manner he knows. He is described as "blameless and upright", as well as the fact that he "feared God and shunned evil". He loved his children dearly, so much so that he would ensure that they went through the purification rites after they had a wild weekend with their friends, and he made burnt offerings for each of them (he had ten) just to make sure that they were pure before the Lord.

This is a man who clearly takes God's commandments seriously and desires to follow after Him with his whole heart.

And yet...

And yet. Satan comes to God after wandering around the world, and for some inexplicable reason, God draws his attention to Job. "Look at this guy," God says. "Look at how much he loves me and fears me. In fact, he obeys me so well, that there is no one else on earth who can even compare." That should give you some idea of just how much Job followed the Lord--when Satan came to God, Job is the one who was noticed, and Job is the one whom God said had no equal in his worship of the Lord.

Satan (which interestingly enough means the accuser, according to my footnotes) then taunts God, and Job, by saying that the only reason the human is doing so well is because God has protected him and blessed him. Satan counters that if God struck Job, the human would turn around and curse him--that his holiness was only based on God's blessing.

God takes up the challenge, and has faith enough in Job to tell Satan to go ahead and give it his best shot.
So Satan does.

All of Job's wealth is stolen and destroyed.
All ten of his children are killed at once.
A mass amount of his servants die.
And still, Job's response is sinless.
"At this, Job got up and tore his robe and shaved his head. Then he fell to the ground in worship..."
Despite it all, Job worships the Lord.

So Satan comes back to God, and once again, God points out Job's holiness.
"...And he still maintains his integrity, though you incited me against him to ruin him without any reason."
God freely admits that He was against Job, and allowed Job to be messed with. And He goes even further, after Satan says that Job will not worship God once harm is done to his physical person.
God allows Satan to harm Job physically, and to put him in as much misery as Satan wants, as long as he spares his life.

And this is what kills me.

Reading through this, Job simply sounds like a pawn in a game. The next image we get of the man is the most pitiful, heartbreaking thing you can imagine:

"So Satan went out from the presence of the Lord and afflicted Job with painful sores from the soles of his feet to the top of his head. Then Job took a piece of pottery and scraped himself with it as he sat among the ashes."

His friends come to see him, and they weep once they get a good look at him.
Here is a man who once had it all, and is now reduced to sitting in the dirt, cutting himself with broken pottery in an attempt to stem the physical pain he is feeling.

Why?

Why would God allow the most holy man in existence at that time to be reduced to this pitiful pile of festering flesh and bone?

The answer infuriates my very sinful human nature.

Because this life, and this world, is not about us.

God would make an example of one man, simply to show that His glory is more important than anything else.

Worshiping the Lord, who gave us life, is worth our lives.

And if He so chooses, God can do what He will with us in order to show that He is holy, and give an example of who He is.

That's part of the deal.

It comes with being human.

Job's answer is the epitome of a man who realizes what life is truly about:

"Shall we accept good from God, and not trouble?"

Too often we get caught up in how we feel, and how we're doing, and if we're being taken care of.

And although God blesses so many of us extraordinarily, and provides for us when we need it, and gives us what we ask for, that does not mean that He is obligated to.

We are His creation, not the other way around.

We belong to Him, and He can do with us what He will.

This is hard to accept, and there is something inside all of us that fights against it.

But it comes with the territory.

God owes me far more than I have been given, and has taken away so much that I deserve.

I am a disgraceful sinner, full of evil intent and wicked purpose.

And yet...

And yet. I have been given grace, and a hundredth chance, and blessings beyond what I can imagine.

God does not give us what we deserve.

He gives us everything we do not.

For that I will say:

"The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away;

may the name of the Lord be praised."

Amen.

*All scripture references belong to Job 1-3

smattering.

2010-12-30T12:45:00.000Z

Okay, okay.

I know, it's been a week.

However, Christmas was hectic, and my resolution to start blogging more doesn't kick off until AFTER the new year, so technically I still have another 48 hours of slacking to do.

This is just going to be a rambling photo post, so I hope you all enjoy.

Serious stuff to come later, I promise.

(If there is one thing I can be counted on for, it's bringing some serious thoughts into your life.)
-------------------------------

Christmas morning with the most gorgeous flowers from my family, coffee, and my Bible.

Maternity clothes from Grandma!

They are sooo comfortable.

I think I will be wearing them for the next five months.

Aaaand, of course, no post is complete without a belly shot.

This is fourteen weeks.

I swear my stomach has exploded ever since this was taken. I feel like a whale.

Christmas socks.

My gift from my sister-in-law and her husband.

They're trying to help me out.

There is no better gift for a pregnant lady than chocolate.

Except for maybe a massage.

Very traditional English Christmas meal, complete with Christmas Crackers.
(Chicken, Roast potatoes, Brussel Sprouts/Carrots/Mushrooms, Pigs-in-a-blanket, Stuffing, Gravy, and Bread Sauce)

Mum and Dad

Jessica and Nelson

Uncle Greg and Aunty Fely

(Nelson's parents)

And, us!

(Which one of us is not like the others...?)

-----------------------------------

This lovely couple celebrated their third anniversary, and were nice enough to let Hubs and I tag along for some real Mexican food.

Happy Anniversary, Zac and Erica!

It even looks like the ones you get in Mexico!

Best tortilla soup I have ever eaten, hands down.

Margaritas (for the men, of course, seeing as how Erica and I are both with child) and Zac's flautas.

Pork tacos.

Oh man, I'm getting hungry again just looking at this.

Strawberry cheesecake.

Happy us, with full stomachs.

----------------------------

There it is.

The past week or so that I've missed.

Like I said, blogging more is on my priority list, I just seem to find myself without a good chunk of time to sit down and put it all together.

However, I promise to make it happen more often. Promise.

a confession

2010-12-23T12:57:00.000Z

This post has been brewing for quite awhile, I just haven't had the time to sit down and truly write it all out. It's long, and it might be a bit tedious, but it's the truth, and sometimes you just can't cut off the truth.

This story starts nearly a year and a half ago, when my middle sister graduated from high school. I flew out to Utah in the beginning of June to be there while my husband stayed in Chicago to work (What a guy...buys his wife a plane ticket home and then stays home working to pay them off). My family had recently joined a new, amazing gym and somehow scored me a membership as well. Part of the initiation into the gym included a physical assessment with a personal trainer, as well as a training session and program.

Fitness and working out hadn't been at the top of my list after I got married. We had a million other things going on (like all newlywed couples), I was trying to finish up school, and work, etc., etc. So I figured that getting a solid examination of where I was at couldn't hurt, and in the very least I might be surprised at what my numbers said.

My initiation day came, and I don't really think that surprise covers how I felt about the results I got. Try horrified and humiliated.

(Brutal honesty coming up here...) I weighed 179.5 pounds, and am 5' 7" tall. That put my BMI over the top into the overweight category, and it wasn't by a small measure. The worst part is when I looked at it and realized that I was only 20 pounds away from weighing 200 pounds.

Are you kidding me?

So, the shock washed over me like a bucket of cold water, and I realized that I had a few options.
--I could get myself together, figure out how to lose the weight and try to get myself in a better place.
--I could do nothing, but keep going in ignorance and telling myself that I didn't really have a problem.
--I could cry and moan about how it wasn't fair, and it wasn't my fault, and maybe it would just go away if I didn't think about it.

I think I took part in option three for awhile, and then decided that wasn't really working for me, so it looked like option one was quickly becoming my only choice. I went back for my training session and realized a few things: a) I didn't have to have gym membership to work out. I told my trainer what my lifestyle was like, and she came up with a program for me that could all be done in a park outdoors, or even in my living room. b) I was going to have to work for this. My muscles were going to get sore, and I was going to groan through the workout, and it was going to be painful. c) That success in this was all up to me. I could do this if I wanted to. Really, really wanted to. This wasn't about the luck of the draw in the fast metabolism category, or the body type identification program. This was about me, making a choice, and continually making that choice every single day.

I went back to Chicago determined to change. I was going to do this, and I was going to make it happen. I would watch what I ate, and work out regularly, and drop the weight in no time. Losing thirty pounds should only take about fifteen weeks, according to the two-pound-a-week principle, right?

If only.

Counting calories is time consuming, and shocking, once you realize just how much junk and fat you've been eating. It's stressful, when you have to figure out how to cut out 300 calories every day and try to not leave yourself hungry. And yeah, it sucks.

For awhile, that was all I could manage. Trying to fit exercise in there was too much, and so for the first time in my life, I let myself take a small bite of something until I could handle taking on more. I'm the type of person who dives headfirst into everything she does, and usually comes up choking because she realizes she doesn't know how to swim very well. So, letting myself go slowly was a milestone.

But it worked.

For six months I didn't exercise. I just wrote down everything I put into my mouth, and made sure that number was about 1700. And almost every week, there was a small drop on the scale (note that I said almost).
There were weeks where nothing changed, and weeks where it went back up. But over time, numbers started going down until January came and I had lost fifteen pounds. It was around this time that I felt like I had enough of a handle on "how" to eat (because yes, I had to re-learn what it actually felt like to be "full". And to realize what true "hunger" felt like as well. It was pitiful, but it is the truth) and now it was time to throw exercise into the mix.

I joined a gym five minutes down the street (because I knew that if it wasn't close enough, I just wouldn't go) and started exercising slowly. Again, a weird and big step for me, to not just try and grab it all at once. I started off with long bouts of cardio, where I wasn't forcing myself to feel like I was going to die. Just forty-five minutes on the elliptical while I read a magazine.
Then I threw weight training in there. Low weight, lots of repetition.
I mixed the routine up a bit--pulling ideas out of 'Self' magazine and things I had read online.
I started pushing myself harder, going a little bit faster, lifting just a little bit more.

I'm going to take a time out to be honest and say that I don't think I've ever been happy with my body. Ever since I was a little girl, and I could point to a section of myself and tell you what was wrong with it. There was a constant struggle to be beautiful, and to look beautiful, and to feel beautiful, and I lost often.

But soon, there came a day when I could see my triceps again, and my shoulders had nice lines and I thought to myself, "Your arms are amazing."
And then, my leg muscles started to come out from underneath the fat they had been buried under, and I thought, "Look. You are strong."
I began to give myself permission to feel beautiful, and it was a hard struggle. Battling twenty years of lies takes work.
But when it began to sink in, it was amazing.

Nearly a year and a half later, I had my numbers reassessed by the same trainer. I found out that I had lost 28 pounds of fat and put on 5 pounds of brand new muscle. My BMI was almost in the normal category, my strength and flexibility were higher, and I had literally transformed my body.
It is one of the biggest successes of my life. I had done it, and I was still doing it.
Let me fast forward to about four months ago.
My husband and I had been talking about starting a family, and having a baby. I wanted to be a mom more than anything, and I felt like now would be the perfect time to go after that dream.
But there was a niggling fear in the back of my mind--What if I got fat again?

I'm now fourteen weeks pregnant, and that is still a real fear.

So let me tell you the small conclusions I am coming to.
--I don't have to give up my body for my child. I don't have to give up myself, and what is good for me for my child. In fact, that's not good for my child either, because then I would simply sit around all day and cry. By taking care of myself, I am taking care of my baby. I think that is one of the first things that God is teaching me about being a mother--I have to make sure that I'm okay, so that I can make sure my baby is okay.
--I need to eat more food. This is weird, and sort of scary, because I'm so into the habit of 1800 calories a day. But my baby needs more food, and so do I. In fact, when I don't eat enough, I get headaches, and am exhausted and cranky. I have to give myself permission to eat more, which is frightening, but also sort of liberating.
--I need to gain weight. According to everything I've read, the average weight gain should be about 25-30 pounds. This is almost the exact amount of weight I lost, and the scale is going to read the same number it did when I was at a crisis point. But this time, it is going to be okay, and it is going to be a good thing.
--I need to exercise to be healthy. This is the first time in my life that my focus in working out has not been about looking better or losing weight. In fact, that can't be my focus. Right now, I need to make sure that I am staying healthy and strong so that I can take care of my child when it comes. This is strange, because it's such a simple reason for going to the gym and the motivation is different, but deeper.
--I am still afraid of not looking like I used to after I give birth. I know that my body will change, but there are certain things that I want to avoid. And this is all going to be up to me. Just like it was before, I am the one who is going to have to decide what I want, and then go after that. It is going to be hard, and there are days I will feel hopeless, but I know I can do it, because I've done it before.

This was long.
It was hard to write.
If you made it all the way through, thanks. I hope it was worth your time.
This was simply honesty.
Take from it what you will.

cold hands, warm hearts

2010-12-20T22:05:00.000Z

Christmas is almost here, and I realized that I haven't yet posted what I received in the "cold hands, warm hearts" swap that much love, Illy and sandyalamode put together.

Blame it on the holidays, and the move I just participated in, and the fact that I am nearly 14 weeks pregnant and struggling to remember much of anything other than how hungry I am.

Anyway, I loved the idea behind this (I always wanted a pen-pal when I was a kid, but it never happened. So this kind of made up for it.) and was super excited to get in on it, especially since I had just moved internationally and was missing America.

I got paired with the wonderful Tiffany, who runs Dancing Branflakes. Her blog is so cute, and I love all of her dinner party ideas, as well as her honesty.

So, without further ado, the loot!

Yay! Look at all my treasures!

I was so excited while opening this--just as my husband.

The perfect cuddle blanket.

I have used this every day since it arrived.

Not even kidding.

My husband keeps saying, "But you have other blankets!" and I reply, "But this one is so cute and the perfect size!"

This journal is so beautiful and precious and I am almost afraid to use it.

I haven't decided what to put in there yet.

I'm saving it for the perfect story.

Loads of cute gloves, my journal, and some delicious-smelling hand sanitizer.

I will tell you a secret--usually, I have a huge aversion to hand sanitizer cause it smells all antiseptic and stuff.

But this stuff smells good. I guarantee you, I will run out of it. : )

Sadly, I didn't quite get my package out on time, as the English don't know how to handle the snow, and the first big snowstorm of the year had hit the day before they were supposed to be mailed out. We just got another storm, so now we're back in the same situation we were two weeks ago. The post has been backed up for ages, the airports are closed, and the country is in chaos.

So I'm hoping that Tiffany's package arrived in one piece, even though it was unacceptably late.

Sorry!

So there you have it.

Some extra Christmas cheer to help this pregnant lady through her first Christmas season away from her family.

It was nice.

honesty tinged with a ring of jealous overtones.

2010-12-16T16:26:00.006Z

I am not a writer.

The words that flow from these fingertips are dripping with rust and overcome with the labor that it took to produce them.

I am not a writer.

I am just a girl wishing that she could be more in this life.

I am a woman who is about to be a mother, who is wondering why God chose her for ordinariness, rather than greatness.

I am a human being, who feels short-changed, as though they were judged to not be quite worthy of what they could have had.

What makes greatness great, and what makes every day?

Why do we strive to be recognized?

Why is there a burning in my desire to be known for more than this, but at the end of the day still finds me settling for being known by my family?

What does it mean, and where does the “more” go?

“If I have a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the explanation is:
I was made for another world.”

--C.S. Lewis

birthday, baby.

2010-12-14T18:07:00.001Z

The past few days have been busier than I thought they were.
My resolve to blog regularly has been shot down, and I didn't even know about it.
Ah, well. We'll keep trying 'til we get there.

A few major things occurred over the past few days, and the best part is that I remembered my camera for most of them! Yay!

My 22nd birthday was a few days ago, and my lovely husband took me out for lunch.
Every time we'd drive by the place I'd always say, "Oh, that place looks so cute!"
So I finally got to try it out, and it was just as cute on the inside as it was on the out. : )

Unfortunately, the whole "eat free" thing only counted if you had four people with you.

Oh well. We still had a lovely time.

Handsome guy. He makes me smile.

As I am nearly in my second trimester, it seems that I am sloooowly gaining back my sense of style.

It was pretty scary for awhile there.

I think I lived in sweatpants and a hoodie for a good four weeks.

The best tomato and cream soup I have ever had.

No joking.

And it was only my starter.

Hubs started off with the squid.

I'm definitely off seafood at the moment, as it just makes me want to hurl.

But I was glad that he liked it so much.

I got to pull my first Christmas cracker and was super excited about it.

I read about them when I was little, and always wondered what they were and what was inside.

Well, now all you curious Americans know as well--

Paper crown, a little joke, and a fake fingernail that is perfect for scratching someone's eye out.

It's my birthday!

Hubs was also clearly entertained by said fingernail.

So, I got distracted by the cracker and the fingernail and forgot to take pictures of our actual food. But it was delicious. I had chicken fajitas, which were almost legit, minus the fact that the chicken was coated in curry. But they actually had guacamole, sour cream, and salsa that were fairly passable.

Ole!

Hubs had the traditional bangers and mash, which were also good.

Except that I hate peas, and here, bangers and mash always include peas. Always.

----------------------------

The biggest and best part of the past few days took place this afternoon--

We got to see our baby for the first time!

This is a body shot. The head is on the right hand side. The little dot by the head is it's hand.

This is closer in of the head. If you look at it closely, you can see the jaw line, the eye socket, and it's little fist again.

Apparently, our baby has already inherited the temperament of it's mother and father, as it decided that ultrasound time was naptime and it did not want to be disturbed.

I got up and wiggled, rolled over, the ultrasound tech poked at it, and it still did not want to move.

When it did roll over, it had both fists up, like it was boxing.

I said, "Hey, when you try and wake me up, I get all defensive too!"

It was amazing.

We heard it's tiny little heart beating, and I just started to get so choked up.

My baby has a heart that's beating inside of it, and it's also beating inside of me.

I truly have no words to describe this, except to say that it's that much more real now, and I absolutely cannot wait to meet it in six months.

Keep cooking, baby!

overdue. [pt. 2]

2010-12-09T13:09:00.000Z

The day after the Dickens festival, we went to my sister-in-law's house to celebrate her birthday.
She hosted a cream tea (which means that they serve tea and a few goodies) and then she also had people bring cakes and other things that they had baked themselves.

This was the spread. There were loads of cakes and scones, along with fancy breads and cheeses, for the people who preferred savory.

They even baked some gluten-free stuff for me, which was so thoughtful and really tasty.

I loved this cupcake stand.

Plus, those are gluten-free red velvet cupcakes.

Yes, they were as good as they looked.

George.

So, if you know me at all, you know that Mexican food is a weakness of mine.

However, that doesn't really exist in the UK, as their version of a burrito is more like a sloppy joe wrap.

So, when I found out that there was a Chipotle in London, I made Daveo google maps it, and we went out and found it, despite the cold.

I can safely say that I was the happiest pregnant lady on earth after I ate that burrito.

And I'm sure I offended some Brits, cause after every bite I would sit there and go, "MMMMM. OH MY GOSH this is SO GOOD."

Daveo told me I had to calm down before he would even take me inside, that's how much I was freaking out.

A sad sight--An empty Chipotle basket.

I'm thinking about just ordering them in bulk and putting them in my freezer so that I am prepared for my next pregnancy craving.

(Which would be happening right now.)

Best and most patient husband ever.

He is so good to his crazy pregnant wife.

After our Chipotle craving was sated, we went for a walk around Covent Gardens.

It's a very cute, posh part of London, and it looked SO great all decorated for Christmas.

They had gorgeous Christmas decorations up all over.

I wish I had gotten better pictures, but the camera wasn't reading my mind and I was too cold and blissed out from my burrito to care very much.

Supposedly, if you kissed while holding the mistletoe, the tree would light up.

I wanted to try it, but it was a pound and Daveo said no.

That's okay. Again, too burrito-happy to mind.

The Apple Market, or main market area in Covent Gardens.

It gets all decorated for Christmas, and all the vendors start selling gift-y type things.

It was so cute, and very English, and we had fun.

---------------------------------------

And so, here I sit.

I'm having a hard time adjusting, especially because my feelings are kind of like a roller coaster. I can have a great weekend, as pictured above, and yet the next day I am in tears because I still feel like I would give it up if I could just go home.

I feel like I don't know what I want, and I hate that feeling.

I feel like I know what I should be feeling, and because I am not feeling those things, I get this overwhelming sense of guilt for not appreciating where I am.

The good news is that we officially have a flat, and will be moving in right after Christmas.

This is helping my demeanor, as I know that I only have to last a few more weeks, and then I'll be in my own place and I can really try and make that into our "home".

Also, our first ultrasound is on the 14th (which is the day after my birthday) and we'll get to see our baby for the first time. Plus, my belly sort of popped, so now I can't wait to see what's inside there!

I think I just keep coming back to "one day at a time".

I can have a truly hopeless and wretched day, but there is really nothing to do about it except wait for tomorrow and try to make that a bit better.

I'm learning God in all of this--nuances that I've never seen before, facets I didn't know existed. Complexities that are even deeper than I thought, and grace that is so abounding it's like a flood.

Truly, I have nothing left to cling to except for Him, and that is the path I have chosen.

Now I'm simply along for the ride.

overdue. [pt.1]

2010-12-09T12:20:00.001Z

Okay.
It's been a long time coming, but that's because I kept forgetting my camera cable, so I couldn't load any pictures up.
I'm going to break this up a bit, so that it's not as overwhelming.
Ha.

First up, the Dickensian Christmas Festival that we went to in Rochester. It was really gray and cold that day, but we went with some American friends that we found (who also went to Moody, and who are also having a baby a month before us. Go figure.) and we had a great time.

The docks in Rochester. Please note the sky and the snow.

The country got more snow in three days than they knew what to do with.

Schools were closed, post offices stopped delivering mail, and EVERYONE stayed inside.

I loved it. : )

Inga, all dressed up in her Dickens costume.

A few others that decided to dress up as well.

(The town takes this thing seriously. People go all out on their costumes.)

Inga and Zac.

We were sooo hungry, and extremely cold, but all of the pubs were full up.

We finally found one that had seats available, called the Kings Head Hotel.

Charming.

Dave's bangers and mash, fancy style.

The festival also had a Christmas market that was full of people selling loads of homemade goods.

We bought some fantastic smelling potpurri and a bundle of cinnamon sticks.

Also, Dave let me get some cinnamon roasted cashews, cause I really love them.

It's not a Christmas festival without Bratwurst and Beer.

So, it's a bit hard to tell, but this was the crowd, all gathered together and singing Christmas carols with a choir.

We were right next to the cathedral in the town, which was gorgeous but hard to get pictures of because it was dark.

Silent Night.

After the festival was over, Erica, Zac, and Inga had Dave and I over for some deep dish pizza that they made from scratch.

It was delicious and reminded me of Chicago,

which I have been missing more than I thought I would.

windows

2010-11-29T13:08:00.000Z

Although there are things to say, I am lacking in pictures at the moment.

However, laundry is being done, lunch is being cooked, and after I finish working today I'm going to equip myself with Google Maps and get myself to the library.

This is progress.

This is big, big progress is the form of baby steps that are extraordinarily difficult at times.

For a lack of anything better, I'm going to give you my views every day.
Also, it snowed this morning, which made things infinitely better, so that is what that little smattering of white happens to be.

The view out of our bedroom at Hub's parent's house.

Looking the other way out the window. This is the back garden, and a bit of the neighbor's back garden.

View out the front room window. Mum and Dad's little hybrid, and SNOW!

My day, summed up by these three things--laptop, giant watter bottle, and my mug.

I promise to start taking more pictures, especially as I venture out of the house.

And, that's it folks.

(I'm keeping it lighter today.)

a picture is worth a thousand words

2010-11-25T11:51:00.000Z

Although these might not be the best or most interesting pictures in the world, there is meaning to them.
And I think, that even though that meaning can be interpreted wildly, there is an element in each of them that describes how I am doing better than words ever will.

(Thank you, Mr. Wilkinson, for giving me another tool to express myself with.)

Happy Thanksgiving.

i miss

2010-11-23T12:53:00.002Z

all of this.

I wish my heart would stop aching so badly.

creative

2010-11-20T19:41:00.000Z

I'm finding a lack of creative in my life.

I look around and I see all these amazing, empowered, regular-blogging women who make all of these beautiful things and have these cute-shabby-vintage-lacy-jealousy inducing homes and I just think, "Ugh."

I want my baby to have a beautiful nursery, and cute little things that I made in there, along with great thift shop things that I found and re-did to make even cuter than before.

I want a house (or apartment, at least) that I have decorated well, and that I can walk in and think, "I love coming home."

I want to go to craft stores and buy random things and put them together to make art projects that Martha Stewart would approve of.
I want a blog layout that does not look like I simply got started on Blogger and tweaked things on my own (even though I did).

I feel like I used to have an outpouring of creative in my life, and it seems that it has dried up and gone. I don't have ideas, and I feel like my brain is broken.
I remember in my graphic design class, I would design a piece and I could just tell that this element went there, and this color fit there.
I miss that, and I don't know where it is.

I realize I am complaining.
I'm sorry.
I've discovered that pregnancy has made me more of a whiner than usual, and if you know me at all, you know that is the exact opposite reaction that I was hoping for.

Pray for this poor, uncreative, pregnant lady.

She is sick, and ravenously hungry, and doesn't sleep well at night, and she could use some extra grace.

birthday

2010-11-18T15:34:00.002Z

In an effort to redeem myself from my earlier ranting, I'm going to post something on here that I think is extremely important, and I am super excited to be a part of.

For my 22nd birthday, I'm doing something a little different.
Rather than making a wishlist of all the things I want, I'm asking friends, family, and random (but kind) strangers to make a donation of $22 in order to help bring clean drinking water to people across the world who don't have access to it.

Go to www.mycharitywater.org/camarinadoo and find out more about it, and why it's such a burden on my heart.

A rant

2010-11-18T11:43:00.002Z

The following is not meant to offend, but rather to inform:

In the UK, you cannot get a bank account without verification of address. So, you must have a bill or bank statement with your name on it and your current address if you want to open up an account.
However, you cannot get an address without a bank account (so they can do a credit check), a paycheck being put into that bank account, and a whole bunch of other fees that equal about half of your savings.
You cannot get a job without an address, which you cannot get without a bank account, which you cannot get without an address.
You cannot get a cell phone (pardon me, a mobile phone) without a UK address in which you have lived for the last three years, a bank account with enough money coming into it, and a passable credit check.
And you cannot get any one of these things without the other, which begs the question, how does anyone in their right mind manage to live here?

i don't quite know

2010-11-13T12:55:00.011Z

where to start, exactly.

How about some pictures of my most recent adventure?

This weekend, we stayed at my sister-in-law's house. She lives on the outskirts of London, so on Friday, we took the National Rail (sort of like the Metra, for you city people) in to London Victoria (the main train station in London) and then took the tube to Notting Hill and Portobello Road.

If you've seen the movie 'Notting Hill' you probably know what I'm talking about.

If not, it's one of the biggest and most popular outdoor markets in London.
Every Friday and Saturday, vendors come and set up tables with all of their items to sell.

(Kirra, you would have died. It was antique heaven.)

Anyway, it was raining (of course) and we were hungry, so we ducked into a cute little pub for some lunch.

This is the "Salon" where we ate. So very English, and very cozy. We loved it.

You pick a table, and then order your food at the bar and give them your table number. That way, they'll bring your food out to you when it's ready.
We were table 3.

This is me and Jessica, my sister-in law.
Love it.
We get along really well, which is great, and she and her husband have been so gracious to let us come and spend weekends with them in their lovely house.

My cutie husband.
He is so happy to be back in the motherland.

Our first major stop was this man selling all sorts of incredible old books.
This is a catholic prayer book, I think.

Here we have some Oliver Twist, and some Sherlock Holmes.
I could have spent some major money here, except that he wanted nearly 75 pounds for each book, which comes out to about $115.
No thanks.

It was about this point that he started yelling at me for taking pictures, and I put my camera away for the rest of the trip.
There was so much more I wanted to shoot, but I didn't feel like offending any more Brits.

We also went to Covent Gardens, and this amazing candy shop where I bought "chocolate fudge" that was really more like a big tootsie roll.
A little disappointing, but that's alright.
It's the experiences that count.

I love this chair, which is in the living room of Jessica's house, and where I am currently crafting this post.
Plus, there was nice lighting.

And this is what the weather looks like outside...and, let's be honest, what it's looked like for the past two weeks.

--------------------------------

I've got Coldplay in the background, and I am literally choking on the emotion and memories that it's carrying with it. Add to that the fact that I am pregnant and homesick, and it's almost a wonder that tears aren't falling down my cheeks yet.

I miss home.

And the most awful part?
I don't even know where home is anymore.

You can blather on about how home is the people around you, and home is where the heart is, and home is where you lay your head at night, but I don't think any of these are right.
Because if this were the case, my home would be about three different places and none of them feel right.

And I guess that's what I'm waiting for, and it's what I've been waiting for.
A place that feels like home, and can feel like home, and that will feel like home.

I know that God never promised that all of this would be easy.
In fact, I don't think that's what I'm asking for.
I think I'm simply asking for the reassurance that one day, I will have my place.
Someday, I will look around me and think, "Yes. Here we are. We're home."

Until then, I'll be here.
Posting pictures of the story of a girl who is trying to find her place in the world, and boy who is sticking beside her the whole way through.

Love, love.
-C

arrival.

2010-11-08T22:44:00.007Z

Well, we made it.
More to come later, but at least this is some proof that we're actually here.

Love, love.

these days

2010-10-28T02:18:00.003+01:00

Currently missing:

Po kitty.
I know he's happy with grandpa and grandma back in my hometown, but I still miss snuggling with him.
Boo.

Four days.
Wowwwweeeee.
Cannot believe it.

I know that I have been fairly awful at posting regularly, but definitely watch this space.
One of my goals is to start this up more regularly, especially as we start this brand new beginning in our life.
Yay!

mishmash

2010-10-11T19:01:00.005+01:00

Just a few quick things:

I love romance.
And my husband is good at it...I just thought I'd brag. : )

I had the most delicious breakfast the other morning.
Plus, it looked pretty, so I have finally taken a food picture and posted it to my blog.
Does that make me a "real" blogger now?

Our 50mm lens came, and I loved it, but it didn't autofocus 'cause apparently, my camera body is lacking an autofocus motor.
So, we sold said 50mm on eBay, and bought a 35mm (which actually turns out to be a 50mm with my camera. Complicated camera lingo, trust me) which is supposed to get here tomorrow.
I can't wait.
The little taste I had with the 50mm was enough to get me obsessed with my new lens.
Love it soooo much already, and I cannot WAIT to see all the new pictures I'm going to be taking with it!

Finally got to go to Sprinkles with my dear friend Kirra Sue, who, even though we have only met in person twice, I feel like we have been old friends for a long, long time.
She also brought along Livie, one of the cutest babies out there.
No, seriously.
I could not stop "awwwww"ing over her.
Plus, she was kind enough to let me take pictures of them with my new lens, so that got her even more brownie points in my book.
Love you girl.
(And you and T are REQUIRED to come visit in England. I'll take you to Jane Austen places, I promise!)

--------------------------------------

There is so much more going on, but I am at the library, where I am supposed to be working, but am taking advantage of the solid internet connection to update everything.

For now, let me just say that I am in "git 'er done" mode, when it comes to moving, and I feel like I will not be at peace until my apartment is empty and our suitcases are packed.
We're heading back to my home for a week or so, to say goodbye to everyone, which will be good but also terribly sad.

Pray for us, if you think about it.

Stress abounds, and we're doing our best to stay calm and united in the midst of it, but sometimes crankiness wins and I can't help snapping at my poor husband. He's been so understanding, but an extra measure of the Lord's patience would be wonderfully helpful.

'Til then...
-Cami

here's the thing...

2010-09-17T22:11:00.002+01:00

With my recent acknowledgment of stress and terror, I seem to have brought a whole host of other things flying down onto my back.

Instead of a monkey, I'm carrying a 300 pound gorilla with fingers of steel.

It all seems soooo real now...
*We purchased one-way plane tickets.
*My UK Settlement Visa arrived, stating that I am free to come and reside in their country.
*We've started packing (or rather, throwing away and giving things to thrift stores).
*We're about to go and start the round of family visits I have to make before we move.

And, see, I know that there are so many people out there who would take this opportunity and run with it. And it's not that I'm not grateful or excited, or even afraid that this is not where God wants us.

But holy crap.

This is permanent for the foreseeable future and I have no way of knowing how it's going to turn out. And I really hate that.

I seem to have this issue where I need to know what's happening so that I know how to deal with it. It doesn't matter if I can directly contribute anything to resolving the situation or not, I simply need the knowledge in my brain so that I don't go crazy with the possibilities and unknowns. I don't like not-knowing.

This situation is one in which I know that I am not happy in Chicago. Please note that I didn't say that there haven't been times of happiness, cause I've had so many good things happen to me here.
But I don't have a deep-seated sense of fulfillment in knowing that this is where God has placed us.

However, I am complacent here.
I am familiar. I have an apartment and a cat, and I know where the grocery store, coffee shops, transportation system, hospital, and other things are located. I made this place my home because I had too.

Now I am faced with leaving complacency, and trading it for an unknown.
This is an incredibly tough decision, even though it sounds easy. (Who wouldn't hop on a plane and fly to Europe at the first chance they got?)

Right now I am faced with confronting the two things that are the most difficult for me, and that ones that I just really hate: do I stay muddled in complacency, or do I trade that for an unknown with no promised outcome?

Obviously, the choice has already been made, but that doesn't mean I'm ready for it.

However, God has recently impressed upon my mind that I cannot choose to follow Him when I feel like it. If I am in it, I must be in it always, at every moment of every day.
In every awful and ugly situation I find myself in, do I trust that God sees and cares and understands? Do I trust that He has endowed me with the knowledge and capabilities I need in order to make the best decisions that will bring the most glory to Him?
That's a difficult one, because it means believing in myself, and believing that I am worth enough to Him that He will allow me to do what I want and still take care of me in the process.

This is long, and messy, and I know it's not a sample of my greatest writing abilities.
But it's where I'm at, and it's where I'm headed, and that's really all I've got right now.

My tunnel of knowledge is coming to an end, and I have no idea what I'm going to find outside of it.

woosh.

2010-09-16T16:13:00.003+01:00

45 days.

I am terrified.

snippets.

2010-08-17T15:29:00.003+01:00

I am chasing away the desire for more with a list of summerish things to accomplish. I love my work, and I love the fulfillment it brings, but I also don't want to wake up one morning and find myself drained empty because I didn't take time to do things I LOVE doing, simply for the sheer pleasure of doing them.

Things to accomplish before we leave:

1) Explore Wicker Park: I've always wanted to go here, and many weekends we've talked about doing it, but we can never seem to get up the effort. So I am making a statement--we're going out there!

2) Take more pictures (and refresh myself on "what makes a good photo"): Photography class was such an outlet for me, but it got buried under piles of other homework and stress. Now that I'm out of school, I want to be able to photograph for enjoyment, and not critique myself too harshly, but also work on improving my style and skill.

3) Teach myself how to dance: This comes from watching my sister dance and finding out that she watched YouTube videos to learn how. I've got about ten of them loading right now, so just wait. I'll break it down soon enough.

4) Hit the touristy things of Chicago that I missed while in school: These include

-The Sears Tower

-Examining the Loop Architecture

-The Lincoln Park Zoo

-The Garfield Park Conservatory

-The Field Museum

-The Planetarium

-The Shedd Aquarium

-The Museum of Contemporary Art

and probably a few more that I'm missing.

5) Keep my tan up at the beach: Where I'm going, the beach is far, far away, and it rains too often to get a decent tan anyway. I've got to soak up the skin cancer while it's still in my reach.

6) Read all the books I check out of the library: Seriously, I always check out more than I can handle. I've got to get some sort of system for figuring out how to tackle them all before the late fees hit.

7) Go for another "just because" bike ride: I want to explore this place, the ins and outs, the parts that you only see when you look for them. I want to smell the sun, and whisper with the wind in my ears, and smile because I am flying for just a few moments.

8) Do something every day just for the sake of feeling pretty: Be it giving myself a mani/pedi, doing my hair differently, putting on more makeup than just mascara, taking extra time picking out my outfit, or accessorizing really well, I just need to make sure that there is something I can call on when my self-doubt hits. Something I can hold up and say, "You may feel fat/tired/unstylish/poor but you did ----- today, and that makes you beautiful."

9) Cook a good, difficult recipe every so often: My husband bought pork chops one night, and I was forced to find a recipe that would be worthy of them. This led into a foray of gourmet cooking that left me shocked at my abilities and a desire to do it more often. So, I'll talk him into buying stuff for a really nice meal, and I'll find something phenomenal to do with it, and we'll eat like kings on the cheap.

10) Remember that I often see memories through rose-colored glasses, and my happiness is right here: I am a ponderer, a brooder, and a wishful thinker. I remember things and they are tinged with the emotions I want to feel when I think of them. This often leaves me unhappy and discontent, and I don't want to be that way anymore. I'm going to remember things as they were, and remind myself that we all had to make mistakes to get to where we are today. They are integral to our makeup, and it is not the mistake that changes us, but our response to it. So what will I choose to do with the consequences?

Don't forget to smile when you can, laugh as often as possible, and take a moment to feel nothing but the sun on your face.

That is satisfaction.

satisfied.

2010-07-28T17:13:00.002+01:00

This can't be long, as I have to get ready to dash out the door to my ice cream shop job, but I felt like I had to sit and record a moment of happiness in my life.

My contented moments are few and far between and so when one hits, I need to acknowledge it wholeheartedly.

I am writing, and getting paid for it.

In fact, I have so much work that I am confident I will be taking this on as a full-time job soon.

Can I tell you how wonderfully happy this makes me?

I've been determined to be a writer since I was fourteen. And it's actually happening.

People are giving me money to put words on pages!

I feel so accomplished because for the first time in my life, I saw something that I wanted more than anything, and went after it. And it's working...I'm succeeding.

God has blessed me immensely with a friend who is already freelancing, and she has been gracious enough to pass on clients.

I am getting orders for more and more articles, and each time another one comes in, I simply smile and think, "Wow. I'm actually doing this."

I don't think I've ever been so satisfied or fulfilled with my work before, and it is a wonderfully delicious feeling.

I am so, so grateful.

the long haul

2010-07-06T21:45:00.007+01:00

Words escape me.
The fluidity I used to have is gone, and in it's place is a gaping hole that I keep trying to fill with sleep, cleaning, work, and anything else that will keep me busy.

I miss writing.
I miss the ease, and the intensity of it.
I miss having something to say, and a burning need to say it.

I don't know where this is going. I don't know why I'm trying to fill the void, and spit something into the black hole of "internet".
Maybe it's just me trying to remind someone that I'm here, and I'm alive and I want more than I've got right now.

I'm sure that my moaning about contentment (or lack thereof) is getting old, and for that I apologize. Apparently, it's a lesson that I need schooling in often.

To end this on a positive note: the 4th of July was fun, especially since I have an English husband and this is the most American holiday possible. I always go all out, if possible. : )

(cute lil' englishman--note the book he brought.)

(yay America!)

(peace at last)

(it started to rain, and we realized the blanket we brought was actually a duvet cover--so, we crawled inside. haha)

(--we are in it)

betrayal

2010-06-09T21:44:00.003+01:00

It's difficult today.

Fighting back the argument that I am the reason I have found myself alone in this city without a familiar face to talk to and laugh with.
I'm reminding myself that college wasn't the end-all, be-all of my life and the point of going there was to accomplish my degree, and not set myself up with my "best friends EVER!" for the rest of my life.
But there are still moments like today, where it is so easy to look around and see moments that I missed, laughs I did not hear, and relationships that I am not a part of.

I just wish I was there already, settled in, happy, with people I could trust.

I think I miss that the most...trusting people.

Ugh.
Ugh, ugh, UGH.

Fall seven times, get up eight.

resignation

2010-06-01T20:09:00.000+01:00

Well...I'm going to be brutally honest and say that the reason it's been one month since I've posted something is because I had this huge ginormous goal that I had almost met, and I made a deal with myself that I wouldn't write until it had been accomplished.

I have not yet met that goal, and I gave up trying for a good while.

But the fact that my fingers are typing on this computer is testimony to the fact that I do not yet have even myself, or any part of this life figured out, and God continues to teach me about both.

I am learning that life is not about me in any way shape or form, and yet, I am not an accident.

I am learning that everything I do must be driven by the ultimate desire to serve God, even when what I am doing seems trivial or unimportant.

I am learning that there are good things about this life I am living right now, such as:
sunshine,
aqua blue nail polish,
gluten-free sections in the grocery store,
laughing with strangers,
walking and biking everywhere I need to go,
free vases of tulips,
and my ever-loving, truly amazing husband.

I'm going to keep trying to stop being restricted by who I want to be, and start being liberated by who I am.

resolve

2010-04-03T21:16:00.003+01:00

There are things in life that will not happen unless I make them happen.
Sadly enough, this can cause problems for the extreme procrastinator that I am and also cause undue amounts of stress about not "seizing the day".
I always wake up full of hope which is promptly quenched around one o'clock when I decide that I simply do not have enough energy to follow through on those small dreams for the day.
This leads to lots of regret and discontent in my life, and rather than sit and complain about it until I turn eighty, I have chosen this day to try and make a small change.

I want to write again.
I miss the passion and frequency I had before I boiled it down to a science, fit it neatly into my box, and packed it away with my college degree.
I will write, and I will not put rules on it. I will let it flow and twist and writhe and pour out into words that may or may not coherently fit together.
If I can make a living out of it, good.
If not, even better.

Instead of doing something for the end result, I will do something simply to do it.
Instead of analyzing every move in my life, I will just move.
Sometimes without reason, and sometimes without thought.
But at least I will not be still and stuck.

I am going to use this body that I have exercised and taken care of.
Otherwise, what is the point?
Why work so hard to keep something in good condition if you're not going to take it and see everything that it is capable of?

What am I capable of?

one hundred.

2010-03-27T18:15:00.002Z

I've faced this empty page 100 times, and poured out my thoughts.

I feel like I should have something profound to say, but, I don't. I feel oddly like Joy Williams in her latest blog post...like the words have left me for a season.
This is scary, and unfortunate, but at the same time I cannot press myself to create.
I've never worked that way, and I wouldn't want to.

God brings the words as He sees fit, and I don't have much other to do with it, except write them down.

As a final addendum, I got a job.
I scoop ice cream and I love it.
I don't have to think too much, rather I just chat with friendly people and make them smile as I hand them a cone full of sugar.
It's nice.

Scrape.

2010-03-16T21:12:00.003Z

I'm trying not to let it get to me.
Trying to remind myself that life takes care of itself, and God takes care of life.

But really...after awhile it just gets disheartening.
I don't know why I worked so hard those four years of school for that shiny piece of paper in my diploma cover.
Why did I spend SO many nights not sleeping and pounding out papers, if not for a purpose and a dream?
Why did I cry and scream and plead with God to just get me through it all if I was going to end up sitting in coffee shops looking at jobs I won't get and thinking about what to cook for dinner?

I don't understand this and it frustrates me.
There has got to be more than this, and I don't get the waiting part.
Why?
No, really, why?

I missed out on the sunshine today so that I can sit and send out fifty resumes.
I didn't take my camera out because I needed to find somewhere to make money.
I gave up what I wanted for what I needed, and still came up empty handed.

This has got to end.

collide

2010-03-11T21:30:00.002Z

To seek the truth...to find the truth.

Strive, and push, and ponder, and deal with the things that are unearthed along the way.

Your life is a journey, and there is nothing at the end except for death (and what comes after).

What will you have left behind after you've gone?

Because you cannot take anything with you.

hope.

2010-02-16T13:23:00.002Z

There is a sense of promise in the sky today, and I am finding it easier to breathe because I have a date.
We are moving out in mid-July.

I'm not sure where yet (there are possibilities), and I'm not sure what we'll be doing when we get there, but the point is that God is letting us go.

He has kept me and sustained me for the past three years here in Chicago, and He is finally going to release me of this burden that I feel when I'm here.

But let me just pause for a moment, and say something:
I realize that so often on here all that you twelve readers hear is me complain and argue and rant against God.
Please understand that what you read here is a smidgen of my life and my attitude. I am honestly trying to seek God and be content wherever it is that He has placed me. I just happen to be a strong, ferocious woman who doesn't like doing what she has to do sometimes. So when I get stuck between a rock and a hard place, the easiest way for me to cope with it is to write about it. However, I just want to reinforce that I truly, truly believe that if God had called us to stay in Chicago long-term, that He would not only get me through it, but give me a sense of joy and peace about being here.
And it's not like I have completely despised my time here. This has been a wonderful place for me, on many occasions. God brought me here to meet my husband, He gave me a college degree here, and so many other amazing things.
So all of this to say that I have really appreciated being here, and I am sure I will miss this place when I am gone.

But for now, I am thrilled to know that I will be able to start settling my life in a few short months!

no name.

2010-02-10T13:41:00.001Z

There is sun.

The Amelie soundtrack is playing, and I have finished my cup of tea.

I have to leave for work in eight minutes, and if I think about that too much I may start to panic. So let's just not think about it.

There is a foot of snow on the ground, and it is cold.

I am seeking, seeking, seeking.

When will I be found?

a request

2010-02-07T00:35:00.003Z

As absurd as this may sound, there are moments in life where I am angry at God.

For as long as I can remember, I have sifted, and strained, and stalked through people's lives looking for the details that mean they have it better than I do. I struggle with contentment, and it is more of a burden than I thought possible.

I am so quick to take in the joyful moments of other people's lives and think, "Why don't I have that? What is so different and special about them that they get everything I want?" And how quick am I to relish in the moments where I see others going through hard times, simply so that I can know that I am not alone in my imperfect life.

And this is a risk, sharing this. This is opening up the monster, and letting her crawl out. This is allowing the darkest, nastiest parts of my soul emerge into the light for others to examine.
Because this the truth.

I am selfish, and mean. I am not content, and I want everything that I do not have. I have the ability to compare and complain in any situation, and I am good at it.

I am an ugly sinner who deserves nothing that she has, and everything that she has been spared.

And in the middle of all of it, I have the still-tiny cry in my head saying, "But surely you're not that bad. Surely you deserve some good things in your life!"

That, my fellow readers, is the depth of my depravity.

A few weeks ago, I heard a sermon given on Cain and Abel. Obviously, a commonly known story, and one in which not much new information was going to be revealed. Yet, I cannot stop thinking about it...there was one phrase the pastor delivered that has been sewn into my brain, and it attacks me at my weakest moments. He said this:

"Jealousy is not wanting what someone else has. Jealousy is resenting that person for getting what you did not, and wondering why they are so much more privileged."

That, my friends, is exactly it.

He then went on to say that we must confess our sins to the Lord, and also to each other. If we truly want to be delivered out of bondage, we have to let the light into the dark places, and allow someone else to help us be accountable.

You are my flashlight.
This is my dark place.

Please help me out of here.

a mixture

2010-01-18T02:01:00.003Z

There are lots of things swirling around today, and as usual, I'm going to be cryptic about them and simply say that I am trying to experience my emotions in moderation.

Or at least balance things out a little.
So, to negate the complaints I have in my head today, let me simply say that the sky was blue and beautiful and I actually accomplished capturing it through my lens.

"The Lord bless you and keep you, the Lord make his face shine upon you and give you peace."

sustain

2010-01-11T20:19:00.003Z

I have been to the gym every day.
I have read five books in a week.
The apartment is clean, I have cooked dinner, and made the bed.

What does it mean when I just want to be busy all the time instead?