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I am unusually emotional today. Okay, maybe that's not so unusual for this pregnancy, but since I miscarried a few months before I became pregnant again, I find that certain things affect me more than they used to. I have a much more cautious outlook and find it a daily struggle to maintain faith over fear that whatever happens with this pregnancy, with Gavin, and my family in general is for the best, and all these things are in the Lord's hands.
A few days ago, a childhood friend of my family lost her firstborn son, 8 weeks old, to SIDS. He simply went to sleep at night and did not wake up the next day. I just found out about it today, and it has made me not only ache for her but really think about my greatest fear: losing my child...or children. I understand the principles of the gospel and the incredible comfort it is to know that these children are not lost and we can be with them forever, but to not see Gavin's little face every day and to hear him "read" Monster Mess and Love You Forever to me...I can't think about it.
I felt like I had to write something, anything, as a sort of cathartic way to help me deal with these feelings today, so I apologize for the heaviness of this post. As a parting comment, please go kiss your babies. When mine wakes up from his nap, we're going to read Monster Mess together until I never forget how his little voice sounds. And then I'm going to start thinking of a much lighter post!
It may be said, above all things,
That engineers are cheap.
Give them the option and you will find
At a freebie they will leap.
The wife of such an ambitious sort
Will try to take cuts where she can,
But to "cut" the hair of her inamorato
Might make him look like less of a man.
Try as she might, those scissors are sharp!
And her eyesight? Dismal at best.
With no training and no natural talent...
Well, you can picture the rest.
So when Courtnee, beloved sister she is,
Entered cosmetology school -
Her brother, my husband, closed up his wallet
And laid to rest my hair-cutting tools.
"Oh ho!" quoth he, with a gladsome laugh,
"Free haircuts for life, no doubt!"
And yet I was hesitant to jump on that bandwagon,
Because I don't think handouts are what families should be about.
Sure, the occasional haircut is nice and thoughtful,
But to cut a whole family's head for free?
Now that went against my principles,
Even if she would refuse a fee.
With her studio in Colorado and us in the Southwest
I thought my dilemma moot.
But then, a family reunion was in sight,
And I knew there would be mischief afoot.
Knowing full well that haircuts would take place,
I deigned to participate myself.
But as the fated day drew near,
I realized I was starting to look like an elf.
My hair so flat and ears so large -
There was no way I could make it another week.
I realized the best thing to do was at hand:
For Courtnee's expertise I would seek.
We called her before to humbly beg her services
And with graciousness did she accept.
Still, in the back of my mind was recompense -
How to repay! And oh, how ill I slept.
The reunion came, we played and we laughed
And Casey begged his turn.
The campsite froze, all eyes turned to her,
For from a master we were all about to learn.
Her tools acquired, we looked on in awe
As her apron she deftly tied.
Her scissors she checked, her comb and spray bottle -
To Casey a cape was applied.
With a snip of her wrist and a flash of the comb
Curly hair to the ground did fall.
A handsome face began to emerge
And Courtnee's hands never once did stall.
Finished, the haircut was a textbook case
Of the way attractive males could look
When handed over to a master stylist
Who practically wrote the book.
Gavin, the ever-busy child he is,
Sat and let his haircut take shape.
He must have loved chewing on the combs
And the specially-for-kids small cape.
At length, the men were done and Courtnee offered
To take care of my own hair-cutting needs.
But to partake would, for me, be akin to stealing!
How could I add to her altruistic deeds?
Yet seeing the looks I was getting from the crowd
That screamed a haircut was long overdue,
I decided to swallow my pride and allow
The free application of a trim hair 'do.
With complete and utter trust, I washed my hair
And sat on the cushion provided.
As she began, my gratitude grew
While my trepidation subsided.
"Voila! I did the best that I can,
But really - there's little that can be done
On long hair like yours, with the shape of your face,
You'll just have to look like a nun."
Okay, so Courtnee didn't say that at all,
But in my head I was sure that's what she was thinking.
When she did finish, my hair felt so light and refreshed
That at my reflection I couldn't stop blinking.
The three of us now had haircuts that even
The gods would envy of us.
We were groomed! We were clean! Oh, happy day!
I was ashamed for making such a fuss.
We knew that Courtnee would accept no fee,
No payment and no remuneration.
Yet I knew I had to do something to proclaim
Her deeds and talent to an ignorant nation.
Courtnee, your haircuts are simply amazing!
Your philanthropy is to be admired.
We SO appreciate all you do for us,
Especially when this pregnant body gets so tired.
We want you to know we love and appreciate
All you do for us.
We only hope that in the future
Over YOU we can make a fuss!
THANK YOU!!!
I didn't realize how fast this summer would go once a few key events happened. First, Casey took off for a nearly 2-week business trip to Denmark. I am a big fat weeny when it comes to being alone, so my mom graciously came to visit for just over a week. Rachel came to play, too! We had a stinking pile of fun, and Gavin was really happy to have people other than his mom to associate with - and who better to have with you than two of your very favorite people? I'll make Casey post some pictures from Denmark soon.
Second, we drove up to the annual Hardy family reunion in the White Mountains of Arizona. Highlights: Gavin got to be around fun cousins, bonfires were a stinking pile of fun, we got ticketed for swimming, a pregnant woman survived a camping trip without plumbing...or showering (sorry for the over-share), we learned that Gavin gets a little carsick, and we made it back in one piece.
Third: Casey's high school reunion. What a whirlwind trip that was! We flew to Colorado on a Wednesday and went straight to the lake for some water skiing. Thursday morning dawned and we drove up to Elitch's in Denver for some water/amusement park fun. We thoroughly exhausted our child by this time, and we still had more than half the trip to go! Friday was a blur of shopping and preparing for said reunion (did I mention that Casey was his class president and hence the organizer of said reunion? Why oh why did I look for that over-achieving, ambitious type? Why couldn't I have been satisfied with Potbelly Pat whose goal in life was to stuff as many Doritos in his mouth without choking as possible? I shot myself in the foot for aiming high, that's for sure) and a lovely time to follow when we began to reap the fruit of Casey's labors.
Friday evening was an opportunity for me to meet all the people Casey went to school with, and it was nice to connect faces with names I had previously only heard. Since I am the ONLY member of Casey's family to have not married his/her high school sweetheart, this prevents me from being a part of many family conversations where catching up on ol' Berthoud, CO people occurs. Maybe that's how Casey feels when my family and I chat about Reno/Sparks friends! In any case, the best part of the evening was noticing that everyone thought as highly of my husband as I do. He may have changed a bit physically and geographically, but he has always been a genuine, honest, fun, intelligent, hard-working, loyal person with a wealth of friends. Maybe aiming high has its benefits.
Saturday was Part 2 of the reunion - a BBQ in the park. Thanks SO much to Casey's primary reunion committee, namely Cheryl and Jay Jacobs, who were not only behind the scenes but right in there cooking and visiting with the people they got to know years ago. Thanks also to all of Casey's friends who spent so much time and effort helping out with the reunion - I wish I could name you all, but I'm sure I don't know the complete list of helpers! The food was great, the atmosphere jolly, and the party was finally over. I only say finally because my cankles at the end of the day were grateful to be put at rest.
Sunday was our day of rest, family, and good birthday food (Cheryl's birthday) to include fried chicken and mashed potatoes. Getting to visit with our family was truly the highlight of our trip, and we miss everyone so much. Thanks for all you did and do for us on a regular basis (especially our chauffeur, Courtnee!), and thanks for picking up the slack for a fat lady who sings.
Mom's new cut and color!
At Firebirds Rocky Mountain Grill
Making crummy cinnamon rolls...but having fun in the process!
Incriminating "swimming" photo
Action photo - volleyball game
I may not take a good picture, but how else will we know who his mother is?
On the steps of Grandpa and Grandma's motor home, ready for skiing
Elitch's
Is this what heaven looks like to a boy?
He absolutely couldn't take anymore. I wanted to do the same, but forgot my stroller.
I love this boy
I feel like I use this blog as an outlet for complaining. This is not good. I have SO much to be thankful for, and I'd like to share a few of my thoughts:
I never want to forget the sound of baby laughter. Oh sure, Gavin might be 2, but I still (and probably always will) consider him my baby. I love listening to him break into peals of laughter over the silliest things - Mr. Noodle on Sesame Street, putting pants on his head (he's entering the silly stage in which objects put in the wrong place are hilarious), running down the hall after Daddy, being thrown in the air or tickled by Daddy, etc. I think many of the world's problems would be solved if everyone could have access to the sound of a child laughing on a regular basis.
We ate a vegetable dish made entirely of vegetables from our garden last night! Zucchini, summer squash, and cherry tomatoes sauteed in olive oil and sprinkled with fresh chives (also from the garden) and garlic salt. Delicious. AND victorious. (See previous complaining posts for more information about our foray into gardening in balmy Tucson.)
As scary as it can be, I like to watch the monsoon rains. As long as I am safely in my home and not stuck in the rain or flooding somewhere, I feel very grateful that the rains water my garden and water the desert. The lighting storms can be fantastic, and the sunset under dark clouds is beautiful. It makes me want to take up oil painting again. Someday!
Boy do I love blueberries. Thank you, Thomas Jefferson, for mainstreaming such a delicious summer berry for America to indulge in.
I've actually grown to somewhat enjoy the Elmo in Grouchland movie. No, really - it has its own comedic charm and a few jokes only adults would understand. As long as I must watch it a few times per week, I might as well enjoy it!
I am SO thankful my mom and sister came to stay with and help me while Casey spent two weeks in Denmark. I miss them.
I am SO thankful Casey is home from Denmark!
I love homemade whole wheat bread and homemade strawberry jam. If there are two things that make me feel like June Cleaver or Betty Crocker, it would be these two. I could sure use an apron from Anthropologie to complete the picture, though. Oh, and a string of pearls.
And last but not least, I really am grateful to be pregnant.
I miss artsy fartsy stuff. I used to attend symphonies, ballets, operas, art museums, and other associated cultural locales on a regular basis. Tonight I heard an Impressionist piece by Satie that I fell in love with and decided to share with my husband. As we listened to the soothing, simple sounds of solo piano wafting through the computer screen, I was taken away to that place where only classical music can take me - a refuge, a retreat; a fantasy...which was shortly broken with the loud sound of Farty Farterson at my side, who promptly brought me back to the reality of my own day-to-day personal symphony. Eat your heart out, Satie.
Our garden looks like the withered, dried-up dreams of a hopeless housewife with delusions of grandeur only matched by the greatness of her reality check.
Translation: I am locked in an epic battle to encourage at least ONE THING in our garden to flourish to the point of harvest.
On the good side: good soil, organic mulch, consistent watering, pruning, staking, protection from birds via a clever PVC pipe and net structure; biodegradable pest spray, the planting of marigolds to ward off bugs, and the fact that I let the little garden spiders do their job. If you know me and my arachnophobia, you know this is a big deal for me. I delight in watering every day. I cheer the resident praying mantis and the lady bugs I saw on the plants one day. I pluck the few cherry tomatoes I can with joy. I cut twigs of thyme, cilantro and basil as needed.
On the EVIL side: dry, browning plants; yellowing and curling of tomato leaves; the tomatoes won't set any more fruit (does a 2 1/2 tomato ratio to 8 plants strike you as wrong? One plant already full on withered and died), half of the seeds I planted never sprouted; there are ants, whiteflies, grasshoppers, leaf hoppers, other crappy plant-eating bugs, it is way too hot and sunny, and now...the gopher. At least, I think it's a gopher.
Do you remember the flat top hair styles of the '80's? Picture this as a good analogy for how my string beans look. One day they were bushy and flowering, and the next day they had been cut - chopped, rather - in half. Chopped. The peppers were the next to suffer missing appendages, and I have no clue why the little rodent isn't eating the other things. Picky, I guess.
I can't stand it. After everything we have suffered, we now have a RODENT to deal with! I wanted so badly to reap the rewards of a good harvest, and I am now reaping despair and anger.
I should have seen it coming. For a few days as I watered I saw evidence of a critter in the garden, but only in the shifting of soil and a few attempted holes. This went on for a few days without any of the plants being touched, and I started to almost feel violated, like the least he could do was take a few bites and not just be a sort of garden voyeur. He works at night and we have never seen him, causing deep speculation on our part as to what exactly "he" is. Then, he made his move: the bird netting was chewed through, the plants chopped straight like a mini rodent chainsaw had hit them, and my basil was absolutely decimated. DECIMATED. No one messes with my basil without consequences.
We knew we had to do something and do it quickly because every night the damage increased and more hair was pulled from my head in rage and fits of insanity. It's expensive to start a garden, and since the yield was oh, a few peppers and a handful of cherry tomatoes thus far, we knew we hadn't a lot of time. I started searching online for pest control companies, and thinking it might be a pack rat due to former comments by my neighbor (who, by the way, grows her garden with the greenest of thumbs. All she does is breathe on them and *poof* - nice, plump tomatoes, firm zucchini, and an all-you-can-eat-without-barfing-for-jealousy smorgasbord is yours to enjoy.), I indicated to Pat the pest control guy that this might be the case.
Pat graciously came and did a free inspection, and after he quickly ruled out pack rats, I breathed a sigh of relief (they are notoriously hard to get rid of and come on, they are rats) mingled with a deep-set hatred for our new culprit, a gopher or ground squirrel, and set out to eradicate the threat. After all, I now have a species to go with the damage. You have to know your enemy before you can properly fight it.
I really wish there were fewer pest control companies who sympathize with humane ways to get rid of pests, too. Strange that I couldn't locate any companies when I Googled, "horrible, painful ways to kill/maim/destroy/blow up/go after the relatives and posterity of gophers and other associated rodents." I could only come up with a few local chat spots with people asking how to get rid of the same, but the answers from the local yokels were more like the ramblings of one who sat in front of the computer screen all day playing Star Wars online and learning how to improve on the ol' burning bag of poo trick. Thanks for your help, guys.
Okay, okay, so my true colors come out. No, I am not trying to have charity for the vermin because I feel a deeper connection to the plants I have lovingly cared for since their births and who now sport fades worse than the entire cast of "The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air." If someone makes your babies look ugly, there is no mercy.
