When plans change.

I was so excited to write my funny post about how to live like a hillbilly, and to link up with all these house posts. Then for some reason I left my phone on Sunday morning and my sister woke me up when she let me know my mom was in the E.R. And had a heart attack.

So the plans changed.

To say this was unexpected is an understatement. My mom Is 53 and had minimal risk factors. She thought she had the flu. But life is unexpected.

Really it is the best case for a crappy scenario. One angioplasty later, a couple nights in the icu, and my mom is still alive. Modern medicine truly is amazing.

The hard part for me is to adjust to a new normal. Now that there is no imminent danger, I'm crashing. I'm coming off my "let's focus on what needs to be done" high and it's starting to set in that my mom had a heart attack. I'm realizing that the road to recovery isn't easy or instant, and that this is a process. A one day, one hour, or one task at a time process. And I don't like it because I am a sucker for instant gratification.

But I'm grateful that God is in the tasks and the moments, that when I learn to slow down, I learn to listen better. I learn to feel a little deeper and cherish a bit more. (Except for those times when I want to bite someone's head off.)

My mom was admitted to the hospital I work at, so last night the girls at work blessed me we some time to go sit with her. She didn't know I walked in and she didn't know I was the one that grabbed her hand. She didn't know I tried to take a picture of it. But that has been my favorite moment since Sunday. Just the two of us when she didn't even know I was there.

She woke up while I was still sitting there and said she thought I was someone holding her hand down because she kept taking off her blood pressure cuff during the night, and she figured the nurses were fed up with it :). So we shared some late night Italian ice and she went back to sleep and I went back to work. It wasn't much, but it was enough. Enough time just the two of us where I could let some tears fall without her knowing and tell God how grateful I am that she is still here, that I'm grateful for the reminder to cheerish my time, and that I'm grateful for the reminder to slow down. The plans have changed and I'm learning to be ok with it.

The Ugliest Kitchen Ever

I need to be better about posting before photos.  So here is the ugliest kitchen ever.

Here is refrigerator number two and the table the sellers left here with my enormous amounts of "get this done now" crap piles.  Luckily, after a whole month, ComEd will be picking up said refrigerator in a week.

In these picture it actually appears like a kitchen.  This shall be the current angle for all of my kitchen shots from here on out.  Like the harvest gold floor?  It is the third level of linoleum we have been bless with. That space next to the kitchen is from the original beast stove.  We have now replaced the stove....twice.

We rock some nice original 1950's cabinets.  You see those drawers on the left  I am taking a sawsall to them and putting a dishwasher there.  Watch out sucker.

Where the fridge and the counter meet will one day be no more.  This fridge will be shoved against the wall so that I can have a dishwasher...only my counter top won't be long enough to cover it.  Creative solutions anyone?

Like the track on the ceiling?  It is from the original light.  To say the wall paper needs to come down and everything needs to be painted is a bit of an understatement.

In case you are scared of the dark, hooter will lead the way.  Only not really because he only gives off 2 watts of light.

We have high hopes for it one day.  Until then, we plan on cutting out some drawers next to the sink and having putting in a dishwasher that we salvaged from my dad's shed.  It will look interesting to say the least, but I will take an interesting dishwasher over none any day!

In the meantime I noticed something funny.  Ever call you husband this sweet endearing term, when really you are just calling him an idiot?
Prime example:

"Babe, don't you need to get over a lane of we will miss out exit?"
"I know where I am, babe."

What really conspired in this sweet conversation:

"Hey whack job! You are driving really fast in my dad's old rickety van and I'm scared if you don't get over now, I shall surely die."
"I live here too dippy doo and if I wanted to get over already I would have.  I am confident in my driving skills and if I wanted a back seat driver I would ask, thanks."

I'm sure every married couple speaks their own language of love.  There is a little snippet into ours.

3 Bedroom house? You need 3 refrigerators.

Right now we have two refrigerators in the kitchen.  The appliance saga continues, and gets more comical as we go.  After living with the toaster over for the past couple weeks, we finally had the new oven hooked up.  If you know my husband and I very well, you know how much we love frozen pizza.  So in the 95 degree heat without our AC window units in, we decided to light the stove that just got hooked up.  I walk back into the kitchen 30 minutes later to feel like I had been transported to Hades.  Apparently the stove is unable to turn off.  Preheating was a joke in it's book, and it continued to heat to what I am guessing was more than 800 degrees.  So we will be replacing the stove.  Again.  In the mean time we haven't taken out the old working refrigerator when we put in the one to match the stove that we are now getting rid of. There is also one in the basement in the second "kitchen," with the other stove I am afraid will burn the house down if I use it.

So I have a new set of priorities in my life.  One must have as many stoves, and refrigerators as they do bedrooms.  If not, you are a slacker.

We have company coming over today.  I asked Jon if there is any way we can remove said second refrigerator from the kitchen out to the garage.  He thinks we can do it together.  Que Will Smith... "Just the two of us...we can make it if we try."

Or not.

His response was "Strong like bull."

My response, "Fat like pig."  Ain't happening honey.  While your stubborn wife balks at being told she is incapable of doing something while pregnant, I am admitting defeat here.  I'll move a shelf or two.

Also, I have had paint in my hair for over a week. Patients point it out, and I have showered multiple times in the past week.  Still there.  It's the white paint from the trim.  Maybe when I dye my hair this week, it will just dye the paint and I can get over it.

I may have done the worm this weekend.  You know that dance move where you slap your belly on the floor multiple times and use muscles in your arms you forgot you had as you swan dive towards your face?  Yea, that one.  Before the weekend, didn't really look pregnant.  Well, I popped.  Probably because of the worm.  My bad.  Just want to make sure baby knows how to dance and I promise I didn't look this pregnant when I commenced my dance off.

Happy weekend!

Common Thread

These past couple weeks have been a rough season for us, and I don't think we are walking out of the valley yet.  I am pretty upfront and honest about that with friends and family.  Most of the time I can move past the venting and bitching and get to the deep down crap that I really am petrified to admit.  I just hate going there.

What if we can't provide for our children.
What if my marriage isn't as strong as I thought it was.
What if my friends will judge me when I pull up with my crappy two door car to take my baby home in from the hospital.
What if our friends won't visit us once we have a baby.
What if I am really all alone.

Deep dark place, I know. But if I admit it...those are my fears as I am arguing with my husband about buying a pair of jeans, or as I am sitting on my basement stairs sobbing watching the water pour in through the window well.  Do I want to live in a pretty pottery barn house, kinda, but I know that I am a sucker for consumerism and really what I want is to know that I'm O.K, that we are O.K.  That my marriage is going to be O.K.  And that this baby isn't going to be screwed with us as parents.  And deeper than all of that I want to know that God is still here and that this is still the plan.  That my life has a purpose and a direction.  If I was able to catch my breath, the basement was pretty funny.  We bought this house knowing it had "seepage."  Maybe I should have looked up the definition of the word.  My bad.  I didn't think it meant streams, but whatever.

As crappy as I feel while I oscillate between tears and awkward laugh, I also feel this place of peace.  Just in the last couple hours, up until then.  No peace.  None, nada, zip.  Just despair and bitching.  So please forgive me friends if you were on any of the receiving ends of that.  Forgive me if I wasn't able to admit my deeper truths to you and ask you to just hug me as I cry my eyes out.  It's just so hard to admit sometimes.

Today I found peace that I am not alone.  As I hear my friend all shook up on the other end of the phone because she was just in a car accident.  Or as I talk to other friends about how hard marriage can be, and sometimes no matter how hard you try, you still feel wrecked at the end of the day. Or as I sat here and cried reading sweet Connor's blog and his experience with the bone marrow transplant.  There seems to be this common thread that sometimes you forget in the comfort and day to day busyness.  A thread so thin it's hard to notice unless you pay attention.  And I will admit right now, it is hard to get my attention.  I am head strong and stead fast, and my ability to slow down, sucks.

But it's there.  Like spider web silk. All shiny and glittery (because everyone knows by now how much I like shine and glitter).  We are all connected together by this thin thread.  By our deep heart ache and our deep joy.  By our fear as parents, and our hope for our children and this world.  By our love for our friends and family, and what lights our hearts on fire when we hear of injustices of this world.  By the fist that grabs our hearts and brings tears to our eyes when we hear about people taking on and conquering those injustices.  By our regrets and our ambitions.  By our humanity.  There really is a God orchestrating what seems to be this hot mess, and when I am finally broken enough to see it, it's really beautiful.  Hard, sad, scary, deep, full, rich, and beautiful.

So today I might end up crying some more, but I will cling to this thread.  I will again gain some perspective as I hold a sweet baby that knows nothing but love, and as I pray over the one in my belly.  I will revel in the time I get with friends from far away, and I will let go.  I will feel the fear and then I will let it go.  I'm sure it will come back, but it doesn't have to own me.  Because I am not alone.  God is still here, He is still good, and ultimately, I am OK.  Thanks for holding onto the other end of the thread.

Jon and I saw this on a street corner in the city one night.  I like it.

I attached Connor's blog on my side bar.  Please feel free to go show him some love and send Steph and Steve some encouragement.

Been Awhile

It's been a couple weeks since I have had anything nice today, so I haven't said anything at all.  That whole welcome to home ownership is like going home to fat camp.  More work than you ever thought you signed on for.  In the first three weeks of home owning, we experienced gas leaks, basement flooding, new car problems, and some other fun stuff.  I don't want to be known as a whiner so I decided it was best to not blog and rant and rave...until now...just kidding.

Better to just start sobbing when you tell your husband your growing ass no longer fits in your jeans and he asks you to wear more sweats and dresses.  My threshold is low, what can I say.  (I have since talked to my husband and borrowed some jeans from my sister, all is well, or well-ish at least).  

Things get put into perspective when you slap an ultrasound wand on your belly and see that you really are still pregnant even though the nausea has passed you you only look like you are carrying a muffin top.  

I will eventually post some pictures up of the house, as soon as I actually complete a project or two and there are not two refrigerators in the kitchen, or boxes all over the floor.  Luckily we have company coming this weekend, I'm hoping it will get me to a new level of motivation to make this place more like a home.  

Is it just me or does it stink to spend money on things like electrical panels and basement sealing?  I want to spend money on pretty curtains and rugs, where I can see the evidence of my money on a daily basis and smile as I sink my toes into it.  Flipping a blown fuse just doesn't have the same feel for me.

So for the next couple weeks I will chose to hold onto hope.  I will try to keep the hormones in check and keep laughing with my coworkers and family. I will keep having hard conversations with my husband, and I will probably just sit on the stairs and cry again the next time I walk into the basement after a flash flood/hail storm.  Apparently, when I am pregnant that is my only coping skill, I've lost the rest.  At least I can laugh about it later.

I am so excited to have some good friends come stay with us this weekend and to connect with other friends throughout the week.  I can't wait to get my baby cheek kissing on with sweet Ty.  It's totally not cool to live so far away from such good friends.  I might also be plotting a way to get them to move back.  Just saying.   

I haven't disappeared, and I'll hopefully be back with more soon.  Happy Wednesday.

The Night Shift

Today I turned down a day shift position.  For real.  For those who have been around for the past couple years, I can imagine how shocking this sounds. It shocked me too.  I can remember my desperation last year of wanting to do anything to get off nights.  Heck, I thought I was willing to work in an office to make the switch.

In retrospect, I am so grateful that didn't happen.  I can't really picture myself in an office dealing with geriatrics.  Just not my thing.  I like babies, and emergencies, and life changing moments, thank you very much.

So when my manager asked me this morning if I wanted to switch to days, the "no" came out of my mouth really fast for a couple reasons.  With starting a family, this works so much better for child care.  I would love to eventually go down to part time, and I stand a much better chance of doing that while keeping my night shift differential.  The day shift position would also be a pay cut because it would have been in labor and delivery only, instead of all the maternal/child units.  I'm kinda a sucker for money, especially now that we have sunk ourselves into this whole home ownership bit.

After saying no, I realized something else.  I like nights, well 12 hour nights.  I continue to abhor 8 hour nights and would not go back to that unless I was part time.  Three nights a week is plenty for me.  Insert gasp here and an ode to Tena from the last  hospital I worked at.  I get it now.

I love the girls on nights.  Honestly, I go to work for my social life. I work while I am there, but if you can't have a good conversation to stay awake, those nights would be brutal.  I love that it is quiet and dark, except when we are laughing too loud because of the absurd stories we can tell. I love that it is a supportive group of people because in an emergency, you need each other because there aren't many other resources you can call. It is just a different feel and a different mentality, and for right now it works for me and it works for my family, so I was able to make a choice that I could have never foreseen a year ago, and I'm OK with it.  I'm no longer hanging out at the edge of the cliff. Will I be tired and want to sleep more than I am able to?  You bet.  But isn't that the deal with a new baby anyways?  Might as well make some extra money and have some fun while I'm walking around like a zombie.

What a mental shift, I feel like a whole new person.  I guess this is just part of a growing up process, but I like not hanging out at the edge of the cliff and I'm sure everyone around me agrees.  Because no post is complete without a picture, here is a family trek to Dairy Queen on one of the oddly warm days last March.  I'm glad Erica is here to join us on some of our treks now.

Can you guess this drawing?  My husband and I had a high quality "draw something" game going. 

Happy Wednesday.  I'm going to go continue painting my windows and trim.  Loads of fun.

Welcome to Home Ownership

So we closed.  After a loooooong closing process we closed Friday, ripped out carpet until 12 at night, discovered some beautiful wood-like-looking linoleum on top of the wood floor, and then moved into the garage and basement on Saturday so that the hardwood floors could be refinished.  Holy gaucamole.  The weekend was topped off by finding some puddles in the basement and a wet floor in the garage on Sunday night after we had some big storms.  Since there was nothing I could do, I dropped some choice words, closed the garage door, said a little prayer, and pretended like it didn't happen until this weekend when we could move in. I just slapped this grin on my face and called it a day.

Too bad this light fixture doesn't work.

We got the all clear from floor guy Andy to move in on Friday. (If anyone needs someone to refinish their hardwood floors in the Chicagoland area, I would highly recommend Andy. He is out of Norridge and has awesome prices and he's funny to boot.)  So Friday we were incredibly blessed to have a friend from church head over to see the place, and he said, "let's just start moving some stuff in while I'm here."  Jon and I are opportunistic and don't pass on opportunities like this, especially when I am trying to hold back and not move the couch and the dresser myself even though I really wanted to.  Well Marty and Jon moved in all the furniture in just a couple hours.  Awesome!!  Here are some during and after shots of the floors

This was the room covered in linoleum tar crap.  Andy is awesome.

Bad night pictures but awesome floors!

During this time, I'm whining.  I know the house smells because of the floor fumes, but my prego nose is picking up more than that.  So since no one else smells the gas, we trek on and I get over it.  Until my mom smells it, and then Jon smells it.  Then Nicor comes over and shuts off the gas when they discover 4 leaks.  Yup, there went the heat and my sanity.  I blame the hormones.

Luckily my dad rocks the party and I called him in my panicky state and he headed on over.  I might have pulled the "I'm about to cry," and let's just say that my dad can't handle tears and I was legitimately about to sob my face off. Three hours later (and with plumbing skills I didn't know he had), we had replaced parts of the gas lines and taken out the ultramatic six burner stove.  It's so unique and ancient there aren't even pictures in google images for me to provide you with so that you can see it in all it's carbon monoxide and gas emitting glory. Luckily we took a before and after picture for your viewing pleasure.

So for now we are stoveless, on the upper level that is.  We are trying to make a plan before just buying an appliance, because at some point (maybe in the not as distant future as we had hoped) we are going to have to invest money in the kitchen.  We were hoping to get a year or two out of that beast.  No such luck.  In the mean time, my dad and his blow torch figured out that the stove in the basement functions.  Be careful to not put your hand in the middle of the burners where the single pilot it.  Let's just say it isn't cost effective when you can burn your hand off. It looks like this:

And while you are down there, you can enjoy the ambiance of the basement.

Yep, Saloon doors ahead.  Into my second "kitchen"

So Jon and I might have to give up our frozen pizza addiction because you have to light the pilot in that beast every time you use it.  Maybe it's a good time to go on an all fresh food diet?  Either way, we are stoked to be in our house, our home... meeting all of our neighbors and already going for lunches with neighbor Maria is pretty awesome.  We are excited to invest in our community and in this silly home.  Even if it keeps throwing some curve balls.  I could do with a few less curve balls in the first week, but, what are you going to do?  Welcome to home ownership!