I've been called out.

I don't like the month of February.  I never have.  Now, before those that have birthdays, or children's birthdays, or whatever in this month take offense, this does not mean I don't like you.  Or them.  I just don't like February.  It's short.  I know it's only like, three or four days, but that throws me off.  I'm always relieved to see March because it means that I've paid all my bills and gotten all the appointments and such out of the way--and now life kind of gets back to a normal pace.  I know it's just weird.  I know it makes no sense.  But I also know that I'm the girl that takes two weeks to get used to daylight savings and springing forward time changes.  (Which I also hate, btw. Springing forward, especially).  
When times were harder, financially, February used to kill us.  I dreaded it all year long...and it's become habit, I guess.  I thought I would make it an entire month before posting again--letting all my February crap settle before I took to my keyboard.  However, Amy told me that I needed to blog.  And it's 3:36 am.  And I feel really, really sick.  Like, the when you have the flu.  And all your body just aches.  And you're so tired, and your head is fuzzy...but you can't really relax.  I think Syd has the same thing, because she was tired at like, 8:00pm tonight.  After waking up from her nap at 6. (This will all become more relevant, soon...I'm just setting stuff up).  Basically, I'm sick, I'm tired, and I'm trying to explain myself after I've been out of the game for a while.  So bear with me.


Today Sydney had her first meeting with the Speech Therapist.  Not surprisingly, she qualified for help.  Kids who Count have to first assess your child, see where they are on some sort of scale, and if they qualify, your child will be accepted into the program.  With her physical skills, she would have been passed over, the Therapist told me.  She's got mad physical skills.  :)  However, because she's really low on commonly used words, and she didn't get that she had to "feed the teddy bear with the spoon", (It was a whole bit in the series of tests), and she had no interest in pointing out to the Therapist the items on her laminated pages, she scored so low that it balanced everything out.  Thus, Syd is now official.  Officially what, I'm not exactly sure...but we are now totally committed to this program.  I'm relieved.  I'm glad that she's getting help, and that I'm getting help.  Because this has been something that's been eating at me for a while now. 
I'm also kind of sad.  I know kids develop at their own levels.  And I don't know if it's because I'm not feeling my best anyway, but I guess what it comes down to, is that I don't want anyone to tell me that my kid is sub-par.  Does that make sense?  I started tearing up when the Therapist, who was really kind and fun, btw, but when she started telling me how Syd was going to score.  Having someone put a number on your--I can't even think of what to call her, because her importance to me is greater than anything I can think of at this moment, but having someone put a number on that, is rough.  Especially when they break it down and tell you what it means in respect to all the other supposed children out there.  That she's really behind.  That even crack-babies are talking better than she is.  And before you assume I've just caught whatever Charlie Sheen has and will now start saying the most asinine things you've ever heard as truth, let me say that I KNOW that's a terrible way to think.  But I thought it.  And it broke my heart for her, and for me...because I'm so rotten and I think such awful things.  Please believe me when I say that I honestly am contrite about my thoughts.  Some of the time I really hate the things that I find in my head, however fleeting they may be.   
Syd was tired.  I would have put her down for a nap, but the Therapist had a cancellation and so she came right at Syd's nap time.  And let me say that she was a good girl.  And for the first thirty minutes she really tried.  But then she was done, and she was ready for bed, and she was pretty pissed that we apparently weren't getting all her hints.  Or allowing her hints to pass as her telling us she was done, and ready to sleep.  So she resorted to crying that mad cry when she stares at you and keeps getting louder and louder, until you give her what she wants.  It's a fairly easy system to figure out, I'm sure she's not too happy about me trying to change the rules.  
Anyway, that's all I'll say about that for now.  There's a lot of things I'd like to say, but I can't really be held accountable for my thoughts around 4 am.  Because usually they seem to be bleak and destructive towards myself.  
I will say this, though.  If Oprah were to have a couple kids, and then have to worry about them being on the norm with everyone else, she would be more of a yo-yo dieter than she already is.  Because I am in a place right now where I am literally all over the place.  Sometimes I can't eat anything because there's too much to do, and I'm too distracted.  And then other times I can't stop myself from eating a ton of some kind of comfort food at a ridiculous time.  I think this hurts my mental state, as well as my physical state.  Because I seem to be on the verge of tears a lot...and hating myself for various reasons.  And I don't say this for sympathy...I say it for solidarity, maybe?  Like, does this happen to others?  I've mentioned the person I blog-stalk just so I can be mad at them for the rest of the week because they say dumb things.  Things that are something straight out of high school, and try to pass it off as healthy adulthood.  I don't know why I read their stuff.  Sometimes I fantasize about responding to them, and I have so many great things to say...so many burns that they'd be crying for weeks.  And then I realize that that's MY high school self coming out, as well.  The one that I didn't recognize then, but do now as a definite bully.  
Anyway, do I live my life that way?  I wonder this, sometimes.  I try to tell myself that I'm not overly shallow and boring, but maybe I am.  Maybe I'm that person that others turn to when they just need to hate someone or something. 
On that note, I hope March brings better things.  I hope I can be more positive and generous and less angry.  I hope I can improve so I'm not in the "permanently bitchy and pessimistic" section on the scale of my life.  This was all way too much information.  But that's kind of why I've been pretty quiet in the blogging world lately.  I'm trying to be better.  I think a new month will help.

Thanks.

I wanted to respond to all your comments via post, rather than commenting in the appropriate section.  Because I know I have a lot of things to say and why not give you all a "pretend post" to glance over while you're faking your way through work?  
First off, the relief I feel is very freeing.  I have been able to sleep, and that in itself has made me feel less anxious and heartsick.  I don't know what I would do without sleep.  I would need to be locked up or something, because life looks a lot more dreary without it.  
Anyway, Kids Who Count called me today.   They made another appointment for Syd a week from today to have two specialists come out and give me their assessment of her.  I'm a little nervous, because no matter what, whenever there is any kind of "test" to be taken, I worry.  But I'm going into this knowing two things.  One, Syd is smart--she can figure stuff out that Cole still has a hard time with.  And two, she's really started to learn more and more in the last few days.  Also, I think having Peggy come out and exceed my expectations gave me a new view.  I'm less down on myself for Syd having hardships.  We are gelling more, and she's honestly trying, and I've found that I have more patience, and more readily accept that it will take time. 
More on that as it unfolds.

Again, much thanks for all your stories, inquiries, support, and just all-round good vibes.  It's all been felt.  I know that a couple of weeks ago between Cole and his gluten intolerance, and Syd's little meltdowns here and there, I was ready for a vacation.  From my life.  And the sad part is, I know that my problems, in comparison to a lot of people out there, are quite minimal.  But they always feel bigger.  

 I also said I really felt alone in this...and before, I was a bit afraid to blog about it.  Because it's personal.  You know, she's my baby.  

But I should have been more confident in your willingness to show love and help, and most of all, understanding.  I guess it's true that we all love someone more than we knew possible.  And they hold such a private and special place in our hearts.  And we share that feral, fighting protectiveness over them.
Brandi, Keri, Kory, Kyle, Lora, and Sharon.  Thanks for your love and concern.  
Amy, Erinn, Kass, Leah, and Sarah C-B:  I appreciated your sharing stories of concern about your little ones.  You know, to me, it's easy to see how smart and loving and confident all your kids are.  Whether it be in pictures, or just seeing them as they are around you.  I think Leah's comment of the Lord giving us our babies specifically to US is completely true.  We know them.  They know us, and we usually can give them the leeway they need to let them be them.  
However, sometimes life interferes.  And it's hard to keep perspective when you're so close to everything.  (And Moriah, I should have just told myself to rely on your advice about everything, because you were totally right all along--just like you always are).   :)
Leah, I feel like you nailed a lot of what I feel in your comment.  I do have a lot of guilt...because I drank Diet Mountain Dew while I was pregnant.  Because I was taking anti-depressants up until the day that I found out I was pregnant.  Because I'm so unhappy and uncomfortable while I'm pregnant, and I fear that the baby picks up on that, just by growing inside of me.  And I worry that somehow my babies think that's their fault.  Jeff tries to understand, but he just doesn't know what all that feels like.  I was supposed to give her this place to have the best start possible...and I wasn't perfect.  So sometimes I think that all that guilt that usually is put aside after you have the baby, hangs around...and then pounces when anything remotely negative or worrisome rears its head.
It's never meant to be easy, I think.  I'm always paranoid when things are going too smoothly, as well...so I guess I'm never satisfied.  But I know I'm loved.  And I know Sydney is loved, and I have  friends and family that honestly care and are willing to share their hardships, in order to help me get through mine.  I'm a lucky girl.  Love to you all.  

Walking on Sunshine.

Have you ever heard that song?  It's dumb.  Also, I've always thought it's a stupid saying.  Walking on sunshine isn't only impossible, but would be hot, and uncomfortable, and the end result would be agonizing death.  You know.  Stuff like that.
 However, in the sense that it's a way of saying life is great, and happiness abounds, I'll use it.  Sorry I didn't get posting earlier, but yesterday we were at a baptism, (way to go, Mags!) and then I had a bazillion errands to run.  And then today, while people were watching the Super Bowl, I was sleeping.  In fact, I went to bed this morning around 1:00 am, and didn't get up until 2:00 pm--when I woke up for about two seconds. I felt guilty about sleeping so long and asked Jeff what time it was, then found myself waking up again at 3:45, feeling like I could probably have gone back to bed until Monday, but thought that would have made me a bad wife and mother.  And I've already got enough marks against me, for sure.

Big thanks to Jeff for letting me sleep in so much.  This past week my anxiety was out of control...and I was getting about 3 1/2 hours of sleep each night.  I got a couple of naps during the days that Jeff was home, but they were filled with dreams about all the unsavory crap that was clouding my thoughts, and how it could possibly get worse, so I didn't count it as actual rest.  And though with his work he hasn't been getting any sleep either, but he still knew that I was at the breaking point, and let me have my zzzzz's.  Very nice of him.
So.  Friday Morning.  I got up with the kids, and took them to school, and Sydney woke up early, so I got her out of bed and we played.  She had been up late the night before, and I REALLY didn't want her to be bratty and whiny during Peggy's (from Kids who Count), time observing her.  We watched one of her videos, and she actually pointed and tried to say different parts of different words.  But only partials.  I was great with it, though...I'm all about seeing her try.  And I had her eat a big breakfast, and we read some books, and spun in the Lazy Boy for a while...and then she got a little grouchy around 12:30 and I put her down for a nap, for which she was very ready.
It was then time for me to get myself prepared.  I picked up the living room and kitchen.  And then took my shower and tried to think about how to tell Jeff what my meeting was about.  He came into the bathroom as I was almost done showering and I told him that my meeting was with a lady from Kids Who Count, and he asked why, and I told him that the day before had been really hard, and that I'd blogged about it.  So maybe if he wanted to read that first, and then ask me questions later, that would be the easiest way to explain.  He said okay, and then left me to finish getting ready for the afternoon.  
Honestly I was afraid he'd be upset.  Not that he doesn't want the best for Sydney, he just doesn't see her development in the questionable way that I do.  He's that guy that doesn't care about people talking to her, only to have her not even make eye contact and pretend she doesn't hear them.  He'll ask me why that bugs me, and I want everyone to see what I see:  A beautiful, sweet little girl that's smart and funny and sassy.  I don't want them to think that something's wrong with her.  And Jeff is like, "You know how she is, you know who she is.  So why does it matter what anyone else thinks?"  

I know that it shouldn't matter to me the way it does.  But the fact is, it does.  And when I see so many people question, it makes me question.  And the biggest question is "Am I doing enough for her?"  And I honestly appreciate Jeff's confidence in Syd.  If I didn't have him, I'd be a total mess.  I do rely on his short and to the point way of telling me that I am just worrying for no reason, and making life harder than it needs to be.  I know that sounds like I don't have confidence in her, and that's not right, either.  Maybe it's mostly not having confidence in myself.  
Anyway, when I came out of the bathroom he asked a few questions, and I was ready to defend myself, and it turned out that I didn't need to.  He acknowledged that I really have worried, and there was no problem in seeing what they'd say, he just didn't want me to take something that they said, and turn it into this huge negative ordeal.  And I never do that.  So I don't even know why he brought that up.  ;)

Anyway, I explained my point of view and cried during the entire process, cause that's how I do it, and he patiently listened to me.  When I was done, he said "The thing that I worry about is that you're shorting yourself of enjoying Syd.  She's only going to be this age once."  And I've talked to Muff about this a lot, and she's said the same thing.
I agree with both of them.  I honestly hate thinking that I'm wasting these years that seem to go way too quickly anyway, trying to change her...and make her grow up.  I hate wasting this time more than anything. And then fear creeps in...fear that maybe I need help.  That maybe she needs help.  You know how I say that ignorance is bliss?  Normally for me, it is.  But not when it comes to my kids.  Ignorance scares the crap out of me. 
I waited for Peggy to show up.  And when she did, Syd was awake and in a happy mood.  And then something fantastic happened.  Syd was ON.  She was funny and sweet, and showed Peggy her Spongebob shirt, and "accidentally" dropped her shirt after she took it off and held onto her cheeks and said, "Oh-oh!"  Which is her version of "Uh-oh", and she showed Peggy where her nose is and showed her toys, and told her the different animal sounds she knows, and so on and so forth.  I was so proud, and impressed and thankful.  Long story short, Syd needs help with her speech.  This isn't news.  But, Peggy told me that she seems very social.  Very interested in her surroundings.  That she's very observant and curious, and willing to listen and try.  
I could have kissed her.  I didn't, just so you know, but I could have.  
And since the meeting?  Syd has been wowing all of us.  It's almost like she IS identical to Jeff.  Like, she knows that I was at my wits end, and I needed some sort of sign.  So she performed.  For me.  I know that Jeff does this, too.  That, sometimes, even though I really try to understand him and accept him for who he is, I ask for a little more.  Just because.  Just because I'm kind of selfish and I need it.  And when I get that way, Jeff gives me what I need, (one of the requirements of being married to someone mentally unstable), and I feel like Syd did the same for me.  
It turns out we will enroll Syd into this program.  I was really worried about cost, because Speech Therapy is quite expensive, and our insurance deductible is insanely high.  However, it turns out that Kids Who Count bases their payment on the family's income, and it will be something we can afford.  And like I said earlier...it really helped Cole.  I guess now that everything is in a positive light, I'm excited to start this program with Sydney.  I think she'll really like it...and I love that a lot of the help they give is in our own home.  That in itself is a hugely positive factor with my kids. 

 I want to thank you all for your love and concern and your patience with me.  And for your words of encouragement and advice.  When it comes to those I love, sometimes the most obvious decisions are the hardest ones to make.  But I think in cases like this, it's so much easier knowing that I have  great friends, and great family and such an awesome support system.  So thanks to you all.  Your support and encouragement means more than you'll ever know.  

Before I lose my nerve.

As people we go to bed at night, and usually contemplate how the day went.  Not that we can make changes while we lay there, but personally, I try to tell myself what I can do differently the next day.  Was it a good day?  Mostly they are.  I'm grateful that they seem to be going in that direction. Sure, I always have little tweaks; little changes that I tell myself I can do, to make the next day more productive or positive.  Content that I've somehow kinda solved whatever problem with whatever reason, I am okay enough that I tell myself, "Do better tomorrow".  And then, being infinitely tired, I can sleep somewhat peacefully.
Today was a bad day.  I mean, really bad.  Not only did I feel pressured in ways that were beyond my control, but I realized that I had allowed something to continually go unsatisfactorily for over a year.  Sydney's development is a constant worry to me.  And I know that I go back and forth and back and forth on what I tell you about her progress.  The truth?  Well, the truth is just that.  One day she blows me away with how smart and funny and sweet she is.  And I overlook the fact that she's only saying the first letter sound of words, and hasn't as of yet ever said anything remotely like a sentence.  And I'm okay with it...honest I am.  She has exceeded my expectations so much, used the appropriate sign language all day, that I'm willing to let not saying any actual words, slide.  And then there are other days.  Days like today when she cries about everything.  And I don't know what she wants.  And I'm so frustrated because can't she just say "juice" or "milk" or "I watch Spongebob!"  How hard is that?  And so I grab a book and start reading it to her, and she doesn't want to listen to me read, she wants to tear the pages out.  So I get one of her board books, and just point to the dog and say "dog" repeatedly until maybe she will say:  "rff, rff".  Because usually she's all about the noises that animals make, and can do them pretty well.  So well, that I overlook the fact that she refuses to actually say "dog".   But that wasn't working, either. 

I found her Baby Einstein DVD, where they teach you little words like "house", and "dog", and "cat", and "cup".  Just some basic stuff that toddlers at Syd's age should be trying to string together with to or more words, to make a crude sentence.  As I got the DVD out, I watched as Syd stood in front of the television and watched the kids make the signs and say the words, and she babbled, copied some signs, and said a lot of "di, di, di," while pointing.  But no words.  
I started thinking about when I  bought that DVD...and how a guy asked me if they really worked for getting your babies to talk.  And I tried to remember how that conversation came about, and where it happened, and why I was talking to some strange guy about children's DVD's.  I remembered he said that he had a baby girl that he wanted to start talking...and I remember he had smelled of cigarette smoke.  Not that I say that in a mean way, I just noticed it.  He was a nice guy, and I couldn't place why I'd been talking to him...in my living room.  
I remembered saying, "they helped my son, I'm hoping they'll help this one," and then Syd running by and climbing onto our couch.  
Then I realized we were in our other house.  

I was talking to to the guy they had sent out to give us an estimate on the tile in our kitchen...almost exactly a year ago.  A sick feeling went through me because I remember I'd worried back then about Syd and her refusal to talk, comforting myself by constantly saying, "She's only 12 months, she's only 13 months, she's only 14 months..." and so on.  And entire year later, not a lot has changed.  That sick feeling that came over me at that discovery hasn't left me all day.  In fact, I called Jeff at work, just because I needed to talk about it with someone that loves and knows Syd like I do.  But he didn't answer.  And that's not his fault, he's been crazy busy.  Like, not eating, not sleeping, living-life-like-a-walking-Zombie-thats-only-motivation-graphic design-rather-than-brain, busy.  He's been pretty down and out, because life has just kinda been passing him by the past couple weeks, and he's not seeing the end of the tunnel just yet.  So I didn't want to bother him more.  When I get a text after asking him what I can do to help his stress and he replies with:  "Kill me?  I haven't eaten or used the restroom all day, and it just doesn't stop", I know he's not up to making me feel better about Sydney's developmental state.  And so I kept this information to myself.  

After a couple more attempts and failures to get her to say something, anything resembling an actual word, I cried and she cried. She was angry, I was angry...it was nap time and we both needed to get some sleep.  But I laid there and thought depressing stuff.  I have found that kids--my kids, develop differently.  And yes.  I know that I can't MAKE Syd change in one day, and trying isn't only crazy, but totally unfair.  But it was one of those days.  Those days when nothing goes right, and it's just too complicated to think about what's ahead of us.  So I got up, and I made a call.  
Tomorrow I have a woman from Kids That Count coming to our house to meet with me and Syd at 2:15.  These are the same people that helped with Cole, only when they worked with him, he was about four months older.  I told Jeff that I have a meeting tomorrow at that time, I didn't tell him why.  Currently he's working on one of THREE projects that must be done by tomorrow morning.  So if he can sleep at all tonight, I will let him.  Plus, I don't want him to talk me out of this.  I think Jeff sees my worry about Syd as something exaggerated.  And honestly?  I really, really hope it is.  He'll find out tomorrow.  Either he'll sit in with me, or I'll tell him what happened.  And I'll let you know how it turns out...I decided that I'm going to document this process.  Because it's really painful, and when it comes to me being distant and anti-social, I hope you'll all give me time.  I felt this same way when Cole was a baby.  And he came out of it, he got help, and now he's my kid that never stops talking.  I came out of my funk when he came out of his.  
I want that for Syd, too.  I'm tired of explaining that "she doesn't talk to anyone" to people that tell me she's beautiful and say hi to her, and wait for her to say something back.  This happens really frequently.  Or they ask her a question, only to have her not make eye contact.  If I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt it's because she doesn't like people, not because she needs help, then I would gladly accept that she's just anti-social.  But I can't shake this feeling that she needs a little help.  And I can't feel good about myself if I don't at least try, you know?  
Anyway, I'll tell you what I find out.  Because I wish I could read someone else's experience in this...I feel really alone and scared, and I know I'm not the only person that's experienced this.  But I also know how much stress and worry this is causing me...and I'm sure that's why people keep quiet about it.  Anyway, I know tonight I won't be getting much sleep.  I have a lot to think about.  I'm concerned that I have so much to tweak and change that I'll just dread everything until I tell Jeff about the meeting and get it over with.  I know I won't sleep peacefully, but hopefully tomorrow will be a better day.

Awakenings

This year has started out well.  So well, in fact, that I've been hard-pressed to come up with something to post about.  I went through a couple of my old posts and there's a lot of:  "Life is great!", and "I'm sooo happy!".  And though I am in no way complaining about how I've felt about my world, I know from experience that sometimes reading about someone else's happiness isn't all that much fun.  Especially if the reader isn't on the same page as the writer.  It's more along the lines of "Well, yaaaaaay for you".  Anyway, that's my personal experience.  And yeah, I'm aware that's a pretty rotten way to be, but sometimes too much fabulousness in someone else's life is just...too much. Period.  And yeah, despite my happiness, this is my natural pessimism shining through.  
However, I guess when life is good, it's just really good.  I've been trying to come up with interesting stuff to post about, and...I got nothing.  I've always said that I'm happiest when nothing is going on...that means that life is good.  But it makes for some seriously boring reading.  

Syd has started to TRY to say things.  She usually doesn't get past one syllable, but she's trying.  This makes me happy and relieved.  She really enjoys making sounds.  I think she feels like they are just more interesting than actual words--her favorite thing right now is a play food set; with spoons, cups, plates, and fake foods.  She feeds all of us, and will make the appropriate drinking, eating, chewing, burping sounds.  I appreciate the words of encouragement from those of you that have heard me voice my fears about Syd.  I think the biggest fear of parents is for something to go south with their children.  I know that when it comes to mine, I try to be good about letting them do their own thing, and support their individuality.  However, I'm not above comparing others to my kids...and if they seem to be lagging, my kids, I mean, I worry.  This isn't fair to them.  I know this.  But I'm weak sometimes.  I love Riley, Cole, and Syd.  I want whatever is good for them.  And I need to relax and recognize when something is good for them, even if it's confusing or frustrating to me.  That's a lot of babble, I know.  Parenthood is just really hard, sometimes.  Even when it doesn't have to be.

Today Cole told  me he thinks he has the best family ever.  "The best mom, and the best dad, and the best sisters...Basically everything is just the best."  I just watched as he happily skipped off to do something that I'm sure he told me about, but I tuned him out as he was telling me.  I do that WAY too often.  But I really stopped to think about that.  He's happy.  And that makes me really happy. 

 Riley and her dad worked tonight on the last leg of her 5th grade science fair project.  Jeff had a bazillion projects that he needed to finish, but he took the time to help her print out pictures and write down results, and so on, and so forth.  And before she went to bed, I heard Riley tell Jeff that she appreciated his time that he spent helping her with her project.  (Notice that she's no where to be seen during the actual work).

And then she showed up to play with the box that Jeff was using to put behind her poster board.  But she actually stuck around to work on her conclusions to her hypothesis, so technically, she DID do quite a lot.  :)  The point?  You can see how much she loves her dad.  He makes my kids and me, happy.  And so I come full circle.  I'm happy.  My kids are happy.  Despite some stress, and being short on time, Jeff is happy, too.   And it makes for a boring story.  But a great life.  :) 

12 Years! {by Jeff}

12 years with Rainey and what has it gotten me? Well... It's gotten me everything I've always wanted and everything I never knew I wanted. She has put me In a place where I really feel I belong. She's accepted me for who I am and learned not to make excuses for the things I'm not. We compliment each other so well that twelve years has seemed like weeks. Where she panics with the small stuff that doesn't faze me, I lose sleep over the big decisions that she is always so certain of the right thing to do (and is always right btw). She is my best friend and the first person I want to share things with.

It's kind of a scary thought that the next twelve years could go by as fast as these last twelve. You blink and you've missed so much. You turn to grab the camera to preserve the moment and you've missed out on something even better. 

I could not be happier with my life thus far and it's all because of Rainey. I'm not saying it's all easy all the time, but what thing worth while is? The last post "The Story of Syd" (our life story to this point) made things sound worse than they were. It was challenging at times but we were always happy. I've got no complaints about any of it. 

I don't know If you've all heard the Story about how it all started (or heard my version of it) but here it is:

I'm 21 years old living at home with no idea what to do with the rest of my life. One day my sister Keri says there's a girl she works with that she'd like to set me up with. My immediate answer was "no way". And that was that... Or so I thought. As the next few days went by something kept poking me way down in the basement of my brain. So I decided I would go to Future Shop (where Keri and this girl worked) to look into buying a DVD player (back then $400-$500 was cheap for a DVD player so you know I was all about taking advantage of Keri's discount). So I pick out the player I wanted to get and went to the front to have Keri ring me up. Somehow during the process Keri disappeared and this other girl (rainey) took over to finish. That day I started my love of Rainey and DVDs. This is significant because only days ago we finally threw out that DVD player (yes it lasted 12+ years of non-stop use, they really don't make them like that anymore. It was a sony btw). I don't remember much of that first encounter it was kind of a blur of nervousness and panic. So, after that day I went back to Keri and told her that maybe I would consider going out on a date with this girl. She said she would set it up and let me know when to call in to the store to get Rainey on the phone. So I sat there on the couch in my bedroom with the number in my hand for what seemed like hours. I finally got up the courage to dial the numbers and was transferred to Rainey only to hear this: 

Rainey: "What do you want!" 

Me: "Hi Rainey it's Jeff"

Rainey: "Yeah, what d-o y-o-u w-a-n-t!"

Me: "Um… My sister Keri told me to give you a call"

Rainey: silence….

Apparently there was another guy named Jeff that worked at Future Shop and at that moment Rainey was not happy with him. She thought she was talking to him, calling from another department. After she figured out what had happened she was perfectly pleasant and even took the pressure off me by making the arrangements for our first date. We got food from Subway and rented Wag the Dog, with Dustin Hoffman and Robert DeNiro. Was the food good? I don't know I didn't really eat any of it. Was the movie great? Not really. But I knew there was something there between us.

After a while of dating, Keri asked if we would like to go to Seattle and help her move some stuff back down to Utah. After making sure Rainey was going, I agreed. Shortly after getting there I became very ill. I spent the first day throwing up. Rainey comforted me and stayed with me throughout. That night while clenched into a fetal position on Keri's bed she told me she loved me. I didn't know what to say, and being in the position I was in I didn't say anything. The next day I could think of nothing else. I felt better physically but mentally I was in turmoil. She didn't pressure me or say another word about it but I was running non-stop scenarios in my head. That night we were set to go to dinner and then to the space needle with Keri and Vic and I decided that was it. I was not going to think about it anymore. It was a huge relief and that night is one of my fondest memories. We had a great dinner and going up to the top of the space needle was really fun. Up there above the city we all kind of took off in our own directions to look at stuff. I remember wandering around looking at tiny versions of the space needle, on t-shirts, on shot glasses, on buttons and then I saw her... across the crowded room, her back to me. She turned her head and I swear it was like lightening had struck me. I knew at that moment that I loved her too. And I had to tell her. I walked over there and did so. 


That was a really great night.

There have been many great nights (and days) since. I am so proud of who she is and so grateful to call her my wife. There is no other person on this planet that I could say that about. For me she is it. There is no before and there sure isn't any after. She has made me realize what a great thing it is to be a dad. Our kids are our everything. She is the greatest mother (though she'll swear she isn't) and I've learned so much from her. She's a babe, She's super cool and funny and I can't wait to see what the next 12 years will be like.

Happy Anniversary Rainey!

The Story of Syd.

This really is the whole story. So this means that it's basically a novel.  But I need it for my own memory.  So if you have an aversion to hearing about what Jeff and I did to get Sydney here, you may want to stop reading.  I promise not to go into too much detail, or anything...but I was abruptly enlightened one night at bookclub, when my sister-in-law Kelli was there, and I was commenting on some aspect of Jeff and my sex life.  Cause that's what we do at bookclub, duh.  Anyway, Kelli reminded me that yes, Jeff is my husband...but he is also HER brother, and so, it was a little uncomfortable for her.  Sometimes I forget that some stuff shouldn't be said aloud in front of certain people.  It's an unfortunate habit I have.  Like, last Saturday night, I stopped by the Anderson "Girl's night" for a little while, and after hearing about someone conceiving in a hot tub, ("Apparently, it does only take the one time...") I mentioned that Syd was conceived in the shower.  (I'll explain how I know this, a lot later).  And then I realized that my mother-in-law was right there, and I not only was talking about private activities with her son, but a lot of women there were his sisters, and nieces too.  After that realization, I also realized that I couldn't take back what had just popped out of my mouth, and it was time for me to go.  And try to forget my bad case of being socially inept.  
And now, for the story of Syd.  It all started almost 12 years ago...
When Jeff and I were first married, I had a dream.  I know I'm not some type of Prophet, or anything like that, so don't start worrying.  However, I can still remember it, and it was so real, and it's stayed with me for a long time.  In my dream, I had a little girl.  At the time, she looked to be about 3 or 4.  And, I've come to know that with my babies, because they're so big, I now think she was actually two or three.  She was beautiful...like, little doll beautiful.  She looked like her dad...brown wavy, hair, brown eyes, and dimples. Somehow she had this olive skin...maybe from my side? She made me happy, and proud.  I remember feeling this sense of accomplishment, when I looked at her.  
Seven months later, or I should say, seven months after Jeff and I were married, we found out we were going to be parents.  I won't say we were excited.  Petrified, stressed, worried, are the words that would fit better.  Anyway, you all know this.  I've not been coy about it in any way.  However, I already knew exactly what she would look like.  When I found out she was a girl, I knew my dream was true.

What I got was Riley.  She was bald. And she had bright blue eyes, and after her skin got over the "birthing purple" she was white.  Like, white-on-rice white.  And she had three big red spots:  the one on her forehead, the one on the back of her neck, (I have one, too), and the one at the top of her little butt.  At first I was confused.  Kind of like, if I hadn't felt her being pulled from me, and then saw her held up to me, I would have really thought I got the wrong baby; someone had done some unauthorized swapping.  And I worried about her red spot.  It was so red.  I was sad that someone might say something to her about it...which happened all the time, btw.  "What's that red spot?"  But, no one had told me it would fade, so I thought she had this massive birth mark.  By this time, I know I sound like the most awful, ungrateful mother ever.  Not only was I not thrilled about the pregnancy in the first place, but when she got here, safe and sound, I was worried about people being mean to her.  I want you to know, that I loved her.  Which was a relief to me...I loved her like nothing else, and while I was pregnant, it was such a completely crappy experience for me, that I had worried about what I'd do when she came out.  But seeing her little white face with the scarlet mark made my heart swell, and the thought of anyone not seeing her the way I saw her, turned me into an "angry mama", which if you've experienced this, I know you know what I'm talking about.  
And then Riley got older, and though I didn't see her mark anymore, it faded...and she was NOT the baby that I saw in my dream, but she was MINE.  She looked just like me, (so she was beautiful, duh), and she was sweet, and happy, and so easy-going, and she loved everyone.  She was that baby that had complete strangers playing peek-a-boo and smile games with her, just because she noticed you, and liked you immediately.  People loved her back.  I was so proud, and I thought, "Well, maybe my dream was just a dream".  

I was more than fine with Riley being our only kid.  I felt like I hated being pregnant.  It made me feel yucky and crazy at the same time, and essentially, was ten months of the most intense PMS I'd ever had, added with some indigestion and gross bodily functions and mutilations that I really could have done without.  So, despite not having forgotten my dream, I just put it out of my mind.  Riley was our everything.  And Jeff was the best dad.  And we were a trio.  And that was that.  
Until Riley got to be around two.  Not that she was terrible, like they say.  In fact, she just continually got better and better.  She was all personality and cuteness, and she did what she was told, and she was loving and sweet, and I was so in love with her, and with being a mom.  And that's when I saw how lonely she was.  How when we'd go to a park or play area, she didn't have anyone to play with.  And if she went up to other kids, being her sweet self, they'd look at her like, "you're just a baby", and wouldn't play with her.  And it broke my heart, because that was something I couldn't control.  She didn't really have any cousins except Taryn that were her age, and Taryn was in Washington...so there was only one true option...and that was to make her into a sister.  Isn't it sad how I was motivated to have my children?  First a mistake, and then just a companion.  It's truly a wonder that I ever was considered for Motherhood.

When we found out Cole was a boy, we were a little disappointed, again.  We loved having a girl, and I had thought that maybe this meant my long-ago dream might be made real.   Pregnancy this time around was even WORSE than the first time, and we had actually TRIED to get pregnant with a sibling for Riley.  We tried for a little under a year, and just when we thought maybe we were meant to remain a trio, and we gave it our all, (which yeah, I know that sounds ridiculous now, but at the time we thought we were baby making machines, and when you thought you were ready, you just became pregnant.  Because last time, we weren't ready, and we still got pregnant), and we were used to our little family.  And aside from Riley being lonely, we were so happy with us.   
I'm a big believer in learning lessons.  I always have these preconceived notions on how something is supposed to be, and then it happens to me, and I'm always wrong.  And it shocks me, every time. And yet, I still think I know something about everything.
So right before Cole came, I lost my job.  And we had just become utterly poor.  We'd been in our new home for almost a year, and I really worried we were going to lose it.  After wasting like, half of each pay check for our health insurance the last year, Cole decided to come late, like all my babies, and when I lost the worst job of my life, yet it paid the bills, I lost any insurance that would have helped us pay for him.  Again, for completely different reasons, I was scared to death to give birth.  

 But Cole came, anyway...just like they always do.  And he was so different from Riley.  He was BIG.  10lbs.  Well, two ounces less than ten pounds, but I feel like I'm entitled to say ten.  He had tons of hair, and it had looked like he'd had it recently frosted, just for the occasion of being birthed.  It had bright blond tips, and it was dark all over his head.  And really soft.  And he was a sleeper, and a snuggler.  And he was slobbery like no baby I'd ever seen.  And I loved him.  Loved him like crazy and again I was relieved, because I thought that I just couldn't love something or someone like I loved Riley.  And it wasn't the same, but it was just as strong, and it was just for Cole.  Suddenly rather than seeing him as "someone for Riley to play with", he was my Bubbers.  My little boy that melted my heart, and was happy and sensitive, and LOVED food and being with his "mama". Which, despite us being poorer than we had ever been, was somehow perfect for me.  Jeff decided he didn't want me to go back to work.  And honestly?  I didn't see that as an option, ever.  But while I was pregnant with Cole, Jeff and I took turns with Riley.  We each had our time with her, which was important to both of us, but at the same time, unfair to her at times, because we were tired, and she was full of energy.  And though you do what you have to, it still sometimes feels like you're getting or giving the short end of the stick.  Anyway, suddenly, I was a stay at home mom.  And despite me going to job interviews and such, I began to like it.  And when Walmart offered me a job, Jeff told me he just didn't want me to go back to work.  And I was so doubtful, but loved being with the kids so much, I didn't argue. 

 The next few years were hard, financially.  Luckily I learned a lot from having to really watch our pennies, but I can honestly say I wouldn't want to go back, and fingers crossed, we won't have to.  However, it was during that time that I saw how hard Jeff's life was.  I mean, he didn't complain.  He went to work at 1am.  And then he came home at about 11:30 am.  And then he'd sleep, and then he'd wake up and eat, and we would have maybe two hours before we needed to put the kids to bed, and then we'd have maybe two hours of alone time, in which we were both wasted from our everyday lives, and then the cycle would start all over.  And Jeff was tall, and he was skinny, and was on his feet all night long, and he had a lot of bloody noses, because of lack of sleep, and terrible diet.  I think he was existing on like, three granola bars a day, and then some dinner or lunch of an egg sandwich.  (It was very lucky for us that eggs are a cheap protein).  Somehow, I still remained chunky.  Not fair, but I won't let myself be distracted today.  At that time, Jeff's youngest sister was attending Provo College, enrolled in the graphic design program.  And she always would mention that Jeff would love what they were doing, and be soooo good at it.  This didn't fall on deaf ears.  Despite us never really having any time together, and the fact that Jeff did like his job, and Jeff's guilt about feeling like he never saw the kids, I wanted him to somehow pursue his artistic abilities.  When I met him, he was constantly drawing, creating, painting, etc.  Expressing himself through his artwork.  And he never mentioned missing it, because he took his role as the bread winner so seriously.  But he didn't have any time to just draw because he loved it.  And I knew he loved it, but he sacrificed that part of himself for our family.  I was grateful, but I didn't think it was a completely fair trade. 

So I began to mention going to the same school Kass went to.  (Above is Riley's first day of school, ever.  It's one of my absolute favorites). At first, as always, his answer was "absolutely not, and we have NO money for school".  But he began to listen more to what Kass would tell him about her classes, and what she was learning, and he paid more attention to her projects, and what she was learning to do.  And I could see his interest, and I could tell that he still told himself that it would never happen because there was no budget for school, and he never saw us, as it was.  And finally, I got the push that I needed to tell him that he needed to do it.  For us.  That his 5% raise each YEAR was never going to get us anywhere.  And yeah, he worked HARD.  Way harder than what he was paid, for sure.  And I know that it always goes that way.  So eventually I made him go back.  And I'm kind of ashamed to say that I used the "We need more" argument, to get him there.  (After reading this, Jeff says that he doesn't remember the "We need more" argument.  What he remembers is me sneakily making an appointment with the admissions office, and by the time we were done with the tour, somehow I had signed him up for his associate's in Graphic Design.  I am pretty genius/sneaky sometimes, so I guess it could have gone down like that).   I knew it was something he wouldn't do if he saw it as mainly for himself.  Does that make any sense? 

After he enrolled, life became even more lonely.  I can honestly say that I don't remember a lot of it.  I mainly remember being concerned for Jeff's health, feeling like I was an only parent and NEVER getting to do anything.  Seriously.  No weekends, no vacations, no dates....I think there are probably quite a few reasons I've blocked it out.  But even though it was hard on all of us, especially Jeff, because he missed so much of Cole's babyhood, I always believed it was the right thing to do, and wouldn't allow myself to second-guess the decision, regardless of how tempted I was.   Let me just add that this doesn't mean I didn't complain.  I did.  To anyone and everyone that would give me two seconds of their listening ear.  And I used those two seconds as fully as I possibly could.  But I didn't let myself doubt this decision.  Because it was a huge sacrifice for everyone.  And I knew it wouldn't help anyone's situation.  
But then he graduated.  With a 3.93 GPA.  Boom! (Jeff said that I needed an exclamation point after the word "Boom".  Because it was that big of a deal).  And things were set in motion...so many things that we never would have expected.  And making a very long and detailed story short, Jeff ended up with a graphic design job that was good for him.  He made a lot of contacts and even though I was HATING it by the time he'd been there for a couple years.  The reason I hated it, was that Jeff was on salary for a small time company.  So basically, he was paid a nice sum for a 40 hour work week.  But he was putting in 60 hours.  And I was ready to go to his boss myself and tell him what's what.  Jeff wouldn't allow it, but let's just say I had a lot of stress about his job...and it wasn't me working it.   
**So, now I'm to the actual part about Syd...if this stuff is TMI, you may just want to stop reading here.

I don't know about you, but I think when you have kids, the whole act of being sexual takes a lot more work.  Now, some of you may disagree, but this has been my experience.  (I thought this picture was a great example...Jeff and I wanted to take a picture of US, but look, there's Cole).  In addition to never wanting to get caught by your kids, there's always the CONSTANT of being tired.  Or if your spouse is constantly stressed out of their mind about work, and constantly trying to get more done, then it can all just put a big damper on things of the sexual nature.  And that's kind of where we were.  Our kids were older, we had paper-thin walls, and our bedroom had long ago forgone the idea of privacy.  Occasionally, Jeff and I would shower together.  That would be the only private time we got.  And private time had been verrrry rare.  So I went off birth control.  I figured, we never needed it anyway, and why not have an extra 45 bucks a month?  And it worked for us for a long while.  Until I started to get needy.  Never read Cosmopolitan when you're feeling neglected.  And if you're paranoid anyway, it will just compound every insecurity you've ever had.  And so I told Jeff that I felt like we never took time for each other anymore, and I knew he was busy for us, but I missed him and blah, blah, blah.  And a couple days later we took a shower.  :) A fantastic shower.
About three weeks later, we were right back where we started.  And I was taking Riley to my sister-in-law Amy's house for dance lessons.  On my way there, I was wondering why I was so freaking tired, yet again.  And when was this PMS going to stop, and I could get a little relief already? And then I started doing math in my head...which I never do.  I was late.  Ten minutes later I got a text from Amy asking whether or not I was coming, and I realized I'd been driving around for the last twenty minutes, and so out of my mind, that I couldn't find her house, even though I'd been  there twice before.  

And Syd was on her way.  And it only took one time of not being careful.  I was so sick the entire time.  And worried.  Jeff was still at his other job and I was afraid I was going to be a single mom--again.  And unfortunately, we didn't have maternity insurance, and no one would take me, now that I was pregnant...so it was a little like the worst parts of pregnancy with Riley and Cole, mixed together.  Luckily, we were able to use our "stimulus package" to pay for my prenatal stuff.  And from there?  We were clueless.

I'm low on patience normally, but when pregnant?  (Look at Cole's face). It's non-existent.  So I began to make a tough situation for Jeff even tougher, and started trolling Monster.com and other job sites for him to apply.  He found something quickly.  In fact, he didn't tell me much about it, because he was scared of changing jobs.  But they wanted him.  And after a lot of thinking it wasn't for us, it turned out to be one of the best jobs, ever.  He has a lot of freedom, and time with us.  
When we found out Sydney would be a girl, I again thought she would be the little girl I dreamed about.  And she is.  

(I just have to tell you that those are what Muffy made me this year for Thanksgiving, and I LOVE it.  A little cornucopia of veggies and fruits.  And Syd wears the cone part as a hat.  Unfortunately, all my kids continually play with it, so I don't think I'll be able to technically use it as a decoration...or say it's technically mine).  
There are a lot of personal circumstances that put Syd here in our family at this time.  Even more personal than the ones I've shared, if you can believe that.  But I do know she was meant to be here, right now.  She was meant to have Riley and Cole to keep her company, and love her entirely.  She was meant to have her daddy's full attention when she wants it.  She was meant to be my child that totally breaks every rule, and doesn't listen, and is more like a wild, feral animal than a human being.  She was meant to teach me patience, and teach me that everything I thought it was before, was wrong.  I don't know if I could have had more kids after her.  She literally keeps all of us busy from the moment she gets out of bed to the minute she falls asleep.  I dread the time for her "big girl" bed. I thought the other kids were hard, but she's everywhere, all at once.  She won't keep her clothing on...I have to duck tape, (and that IS the brand) her diapers, she's the kid that despite my picking up EVERY pencil, pen, colored pencil, and crayon I can find, will find one somewhere else, and draw all over my walls.  If it weren't for magic erasers, I would have had to send her back at least twenty times by now.  And she has NO fear.  Honestly.  I can yell, I can slap her hand, I can look really, really mean when I want to.  (Cole used to start crying at just, "the look").  But Syd isn't phased.  She does what she wants, when she wants.  I need so much help with her from Jeff and Riley and Cole.  And the thought of having her before now....isn't a good one. 

I am proud of her.  Fiercely proud.  She's so freaking smart.  Can figure stuff out that I don't have the patience to even wonder about.  And she is beautiful.  Like, I'm honestly amazed at what a pretty little girl she is.  It's just too bad she's such a brat, because where Riley was cute and loved you, Syd is beautiful and could care less about you--and she doesn't like you looking at her.  If Syd weren't mine?  I would totally think that she needed to be brought down a few pegs.  I can appreciate her individuality, but she's so different from Riley and Cole.  And sometimes, it's like she's a different species altogether.  

But she's here.  She's healthy.  She's completely stubborn and used to getting her way, with everything.  And she's everything to us.  She makes us smile and laugh and she pulls on heartstrings Jeff and I forgot we had, or for Riley and Cole, are just finding out that they have.  She'll be two years old on Saturday.  And I can't believe it.  So much in our lives have changed and so much of it has been because of her.  I guess that's how each child affects the family dimension. Or maybe she's just a whirlwind of life that we all needed, that we were all waiting for.  I don't know.  
The one thing I can admit?  I can't imagine our lives without her.  Where would we be?  What would we do?  Each member of this family is essential to all our happiness.  This is why I find myself being overwhelmed with gratitude most days.  I know it's the season to be grateful and thankful.  But my heart is so full.  Life is so good.  I hope and pray that it stays this way, and that it remains this way for us, and for everyone else.  Much love to all.  Much love to Sydney Joy Anderson.  You've made these last two years so different, and so special, for all of us.  Thank you, Bubby.