My Favorite Love Story

I hesitated sharing this because of its personal nature and I am hoping that my gratitude does not come off as bragging because that is not my intention in any way. All are welcome to read, but keep in mind that I write this blog for three future readers… my children.

When I met my husband I knew in a way that it was sacred, that we were meant to be together. Love at first sight can’t touch the experience I had. Corbet and I met while serving a mission for our church. The first time I heard him speak, I knew he was unlike anyone I had ever met. Here was this tall man that looked somewhat intimidating until he opened his mouth and out came humility and kindness.
When one is serving a mission she is to lock her heart from any kind of romantic relationship and I did just that, but it became very apparent to me, through the Lord that Corbet held the key and in the right time he would unlock it. We only served together for six months and then it was time for Corbet to return home. We never served in the same area and probably only saw each other a handful of times. I am a logical person, for the most part, but when it came time to fall in love there was no logic involved. Our exchanges were always professional, the only physical contact we had was the occasional hand shake. We didn’t know where each other lived or even each other’s first name, yet I felt like I knew him.
To be honest, I really struggled with this. I didn’t want to fall in love this way. I had gone on a mission to forget myself and serve the Lord. The last thing I wanted was to be distracted. I was able and blessed to focus on the work I was doing, but anytime I saw “Elder Weimer” I was called back to this familiar feeling that he was my best friend. When we looked at each other it was not with romance, but with the feeling of home. Our handshakes were firm, maybe lasted a little longer than they should have, and though at that time is wasn’t s ever said, we were thinking how much we loved each other.
When Corbet left the mission to return home he told me he would write to me during the ten months I still had as a missionary. A few months passed and I had not heard from him and there was a part of me that was relieved. After all, I never wanted love in the mission field. The exact day that I had decided to put him behind me, I heard from him. We wrote letters every week for the rest of my mission. We learned all about each other through the simplicity of paper and pen. It brings me joy that I will be able to report to my children that their father and I fell in love with out a kiss, a hug or even holding hands, we fell in love with just our hearts. Before I knew that Corbet loved me I knew that he loved the Lord. Essentially, it was our love of the Lord that brought us together.
The bittersweet end to my mission came. I saw Corbet the weekend I returned home and we haven’t been apart since. To some we seemed an unlikely couple, but we knew that we were right where we were meant to be, with each other. We are coming up on our nine year anniversary and maybe that’s not a lot of time, but I am confident in our love. To be honest I didn’t think I would marry someone like my husband, I’m not sure I knew someone like him existed. I am so grateful that Father in Heaven knows better than me. He knew how well Corbet would take care of me. I have this feeling that when we were created he had us in mind for each other. He might have created me and then thought…hmm now I need to create a really patient, kind and relaxed man to go with this girl. In all seriousness, I just want to publicly thank God for my husband. He is truly my best friend and somehow he brings a calmness to my life that did not exist before I met him. How I adore the man that insists I sleep in, takes all three kids to the park to give me some alone time, the man that works all night then gets home and apologizes that I had to be up all night with the baby. He might be embarrassed that I am publicly praising him, but it has to be said, it has to be noted that we are blessed…blessed with love, trials, laughter, children, inside jokes, and a knowledge that something greater than ourselves brought us together and our hearts are eternally grateful. I love you Corbet, thank you for being you and nothing else.

First Day Bliss

Today was Dylan’s first day of pre-school and many tears were shed. However, they were not from us…

 Let me start off by saying I adore my first born; we have always been very close.  I have always felt so grateful for Dylan. We anticipated his arrival for years and were so excited when he decided to take us on.  He was the BEST baby.  He made motherhood such a joy and the transition into parenthood easy.  Dylan is sweet, smart and funny.  He is, in fact, responsible and for the most part well behaved… that being said, he is driving me nuts! 

Since he finished 3 year old pre-school last May, he has been begging to go back.  We have tried to keep him distracted with parks, water parks, story time, bike rides and back yard water toys, but nothing has taken his mind off of school.  Almost every day this summer he has asked me if he gets to go to school “tomorrow”.   I am grateful he loves school but, early in the summer I started wishing school was all year around. 

It hasn’t just been his constant begging to return to school that has worn me out; in general, it is him being 4.  Noel hit the two year mark hard and fast and this has been her toughest age so far.  She is coming out of the twos beautifully and I can see a light at the end of the tunnel.  Dylan being four has been his toughest age.  However, I will be fare and say that we have had a lot of changes this year.  We moved, I started babysitting, we switched ward’s a few times (LDS church congregations), Dylan started school, I stopped babysitting and we had a baby.  I think that could be cause for a kid to act out and yet still my patience is thin. 

I will be honest and admit it’s not all Dylan.  I am exhausted and it seems the less energy I have the more he has.  I have stated on this blog that I am not a morning person.  I try with all my might to greet my children with a smile in the mornings, but Dylan sometimes gets a frown simply because he is very loud in the morning.  My mornings go a little something like this:  First off I have been up for the greater portion of the night nursing the unquenchable thirst of a six week old.  She gained 2.5 pounds in two weeks…just to give you a visual.  At just about 5:30, when I get the said baby fed enough and back to sleep, my first born comes into my room declaring loudly that “The sun woke up and it’s time for us to get out of bed”.  By us he means me.  He then will not leave my room and makes a lot of racket until I get out of bed, which I do without yelling because I don’t want to wake up my little emotional eater.

It is at 5:30 every morning that he wants pancakes.  Not cereal, not toast, not oatmeal, not anything but homemade pancakes.  He is so happy in the morning that he has no other way to express it other than by running across the hardwood floors and telling me all the things we are going to do.  His list is as follows: Ride bikes, go to the splash pad, see his friend Raine, go to school, eat hot dogs and go to the store to buy him a new car. “Bikes yes, splash pad maybe and everything else not today” is my usual response.  As the day gets going he gets cuter, but in the morning I just hear noise. 

This summer Dylan stopped taking naps (though we had a good run), discovered his love for leggos, hot dogs and ice cream.  Dylan has enforced the rules that we are not allowed to say hate or yell in the house.  (Note to self, don’t make rules you can’t follow) and he has learned that singing church songs isn’t so bad after all.  Dylan has grown and I know he will grow even more under the direction of Miss Tess, his new teacher.  For the most part, the reason I could not shed a tear this morning is due to the fact that I am excited for Dylan.  I am happy to see his love for school and for him to get his wish to go back.  He still looks so small to me and the image of him walking into school with his oversized looking backpack on his little back still hasn’t sunk in.  As ready as I was for him to go back to school, there was a bit of sadness, but I got over that when Noel burst into tears declaring that she wanted to go to school and insisting that she go “tomorrow”. 

First Day!

 Dylan & Raine

 "I want to go to school".

A gift withheld

Tonight I was getting Prestyn ready for bed and as I pulled out the PJs from her dresser I realized that the pair I chose I once chose for another baby.  When Corbet and I had been married for two years I became pregnant and we thought we were starting our family.  One of the first things I did was buy two sleepers: one for a girl and one for a boy.  I had it in my mind that if I bought the baby something, then it would stick, that there really would be a baby coming.

The time came for our first doctor’s visit.  I thought the ten week mark would never come.  Corbet and I cried seeing our baby move on the monitor and it was official, we were going to be parents!   I signed up to get weekly emails on the progress of our growing child.  I learned when and how he or she was developing and I couldn’t believe all that was happening in my own body.  It was all so miraculous and surreal. 

When it came time for another visit to the doctor I went by myself; Corbet had an exam and I felt like everything was under control.  The nurse came in with the Doppler.  We made casual conversation and I think I remember her complimenting my shoes… then her face went blank.  She told me, “I’ll be right back”.  I knew something was wrong because one minute we were talking about shoes and the next I was left in a room with my own scrambling thoughts:  Is something wrong?  Would God let this happen to me?  Would I be able to handle it if something was wrong?  Am I not ready to be a mom?  Will I get to be a mom?   

Eventually the doctor came in and performed an ultrasound where it was discovered that our baby, the one I already had a sleeper for, did not have a heartbeat.  I looked and saw this perfectly still image.  I saw tiny hands and the profile of a face, but no beating heart.   My doctor broke the news gently and before I could even think it, he said, “There is nothing you did to cause this”. I could tell he was sincerely sad for me.   

I recall thinking about the sleepers I bought, even while in the doctor’s office.  I remember feeling foolish that I allowed myself to be superstitious, to think that my child’s fate rested in a pair of PJs.  It was much bigger than a sleeper; it was the Lord’s will that I not become a mom just yet.     

Those tiny footed sleepers hung in our spare room closet through one more miscarriage. I once considered getting rid of them, but there was always something telling me that there would be little feet to fill those PJ’s someday. 

Time past, just like it always does, and now all of my kids have worn those PJ’s. Today, when I look at them I feel a sense of joy, there is no sadness attached.  I can even look back, on the rare times I think of them, and recognize that those two miscarriages were a blessing.  I learned a lot about myself and my husband and even our marriage during that time.  I also learned about my faith in God.  It is easy to say you have faith until it is tested and back then, mine was.  I had to come to the understanding that Heavenly Father knew best, even if I could not make sense of it all. 

Presently my life is full, it has its ups and downs, but my arms are always full.  Tonight I held my newborn daughter while my other kids sat on either side of me with their heads resting on my lap.  It’s hard to believe there was ever a time when they weren’t in my life and yet, now and then, I’m reminded that there was once a time I wasn’t sure I would get the chance to be a mom at all.  There was a time when two tiny sleepers hung next to my wedding dress while I hoped for the day when there would be babies to fill them.  How grateful I am that Heavenly Father knew better than I did, that he sent me my babies when he did.  I believe it may even have been His voice whispering to me to hang on to those sleepers because he knew the eventual joy I would have in filling them. 

Brutal Honesty

Brutal Honesty

Today Corbet and I took our kids to the spray park, a park with water shooting up from the ground.  Dylan has been kinda naughty and we both thought he needed to get out of the house.  My kids may have cabin fever… or something like that.  Sometimes I feel like we expect too much out of our first born but for the most part he has been an easy kid.  He has been including the spray park in his prayers so we were feeling some pressure. 

So we packed a blanket, picked up a five dollar pizza and hit the park.  While we were at the park I ran into our neighbor.  Our neighbor has four kids and Dylan can’t remember their names (neither can I) so he calls each of them buddy.  Our kids played together and we got a chance to visit.  I was pretty much amazed that she took her four kids to the park by herself, whereas I would not have attempted to go without my husband.  I’ll be honest, it’s not just the park; I rarely take my kids to the grocery store.  I have waited until ten at night or even later to go shopping just so I could avoid taking my kids and that was when I only had two. 

Seeing my neighbor with her four kids really got me thinking.  Will I ever be that Mom that takes her kids to the park by herself?  I try not to compare my mothering to other mom’s because it’s pointless and destructive, but today I went there.  So would I ever be that mom? In the time that we were chatting Noel climbed to the top of the park’s chain link fence, attempted to run out of the park twice and ate another kid’s watermelon.  All this time I was nursing a baby and trying to keep an eye of Dylan.  Had my husband not been there we probably would still be trying to find Noel.  To top things off “buddy’s” Mom was putting sun block on her four boys, which reminded me that I had missed that step today.   Now here is where I get a little more honest… when I saw my neighbor I was hoping just a little that she would not see me or recognize me.  This is a little embarrassing, but I’m pretty sure our neighbors have heard me yelling at my kids in the back yard…maybe even in the house when the windows have been open.  Once I heard them yelling in their back yard and I felt so much better, but Corbet told me they were yelling at their dog, so neighbor 1 Jillian 0.  

After Buddy’s mom saw me, I was glad she did because we did have a nice chat.  She asked me about my new baby and labor. I got over the fact that she brought fresh fruit to the park while I brought a pizza. I stopped thinking about the sun block and the fact that she may have heard me at my worst as a mother through the very fence my son peeks into their yard through. 

After I gave buddy’s mom props for taking her four kids to the park she said “it was not always like this”.  She then explained how she grew into that place as a mom and that with her two oldest being 7 and 9 she feels more comfortable about taking her kids places alone.   She even admitted to never taking her kids to the store.  I realized something important today at the spray park.  First off, I can’t measure my mothering by what other mom’s are doing, it is still pointless and destructive, and second motherhood doesn’t just happen because you have a kid.  Motherhood is a process.  I will be growing into my motherhood for a long time and probably just when it all makes sense my youngest will be leaving the nest.  For now I’m thinking of just chilling out a little.  I will try to remember the sun block, but I just might be the mom who brings pizza to the park.  

The fake out!

The first two weeks of Prestyn’s arrival went pretty smooth, but I can’t deny that we’ve had a few blunders.  One was brought to my attention today at church of all places.  First off, I want to mention that we were only 13 minutes late to church.  Okay, I know that might not be something to brag about, but when your husband is exhausted after working the night shift and you have three kids (plus yourself) to get ready for church, it feels like an accomplishment.  Thanks to Corbet the kids even had breakfast!

After the first meeting, our Bishop, who is the greatest, came up to meet the baby.  It was lovely to see his excitement for us and our new arrival.  He then said, “I have a funny story for you…”  I was expecting some cute story about when his kids were babies but nope, he said “the other day I came by your house to see the baby, and I know you were there, but you must have been taking a nap because the only one who came to the door was Noel”.   All that I could say was “uh oh”. The Bishop said that she opened the mail slot and was chatting and waving her fingers at him.   After a while, he realized that we were not coming to the door so he left.  I wish I could say this was the first time this has happened but a few months ago, when some ladies at church came by, they got the same treatment.  I’m starting to wonder if the people at church may be contemplating calling CPS! 

The truth is Noel does not sleep and even when we think she is sleeping she is faking us out.  She will stay in her bed and when we check on her she closes her eyes so we think she is sleeping.  When we go to bed, or heaven forbid take a nap after we bring home a newborn child, she gets up and farts around.  That day the Bishop came over, I knew someone had stopped by because when I got up from my nap I noticed some suspicious activity.  First off I hear “I’m stuck” which is never good.  I look over and find Noe Noe strapped in the baby swing and when I go to get her out and reprimand her for getting out of her bed and playing with the baby swing she say’s “and I pooped”  Just what I love to wake up to.  I start to wonder how long she had been up and that’s when I see a chair pulled up to the door and I knew someone stopped by.  To my defense we don’t have a door bell… not that I want anyone to ring my bell these days, but it would have been nice in times like this.  When we moved in I had Corbet put a lock at the top of the door that the kids couldn’t reach and now I’m realizing that it was the best purchase we’ve made all year!  We are currently trying to find a solution to Noel’s sleeping habits and our not hearing visitor stop by…suggestions are welcome! 

Though I have to say Prestyn is the sweetest baby, there will be some adjustments.  The dishes tend to pile up and we have stayed in our pj’s more often than not, but I have loved this time to swoon over our newborn child and watch my other two children do the same.  My proudest moments include making dinner with one hand due to holding a hungry baby and giving two kids  a bath with an infant in a front pack and so what if my 2 year old is unattended for a while (joking) and I misspelled our new daughter’s name today… so what.  We are doing this three kids thing and we are going pray we do it well! 

Welcome Home Prestyn Jean

Last Monday at 7:54 pm our world changed yet again.  The three best moments of my life are all documented by the clock and a doctor’s voice declaring the arrival of my fresh from Heaven babies.  They always ask “Do you want the baby on your chest when she is born?”  I’m always amazed by this question, where else is she gonna go?  Yes! I want to hold her the second she is born!  And so it was that when Prestyn Jean was born they put her on my chest and I wept because she was healthy and beautiful and mine.    

The transition from two kids to three has been smoother than I guessed.  However, Corbet goes back to work in a few days so maybe I should wait before I make that declaration.  I was most worried about Noel.  A few weeks ago I was watching her play outside and I couldn’t help but get a little weepy.  She has been our baby for the past two and a half years.  In fact we still call her baby.  She introduces herself as baby, so what was she going to do when she was not the baby?  We had been talking about Prestyn for nine months, but did she get it?  Did Noel understand that there would be a baby coming home with us, one that she would not only share a room with but the attention of her parents as well? 

When Corbet and the kids came to get me from the hospital I was so excited.  I am hardly away from my kids and as much as I want a break sometimes, it is hard to be without them.  I was waiting outside my room when I heard my family get off the elevator.  I could hear my kids little feet running to my room. To my surprise they were more interested in seeing Prestyn than me, which brought me much joy.

 I finally understand why my parents hated it when my siblings and I fought.  As a mom I just want my children to love each other. I am happy to report that it was love at first sight.  Dylan shouted “yah Prestyn came out” and Noel shouted “She’s so cute!” and I said a silent prayer of gratitude.  Dylan decided we should take Prestyn home which is exactly what we did. 

I am not under the illusion that it will be all baby giggles, kids sharing, and homemade meals.  We will have our ups and downs.  Kids will get sick, I will get sick and maybe I will even get sick of my kids.  They will continue to test me and I will constantly have to learn how to be a better mother, but for now I will just enjoy this time.  If I have learned one thing in the four years I have been a mother, it is that they truly do grow up fast and they aren’t babies forever, even if you call them “baby”.  

Women

Women are complex creatures, it has been said before. Though I belong to the club I will forever be perplexed by the way we do things. Don’t get me wrong, I love being a woman; I was trying to wear nylons and lipstick before I could spell, but what I didn’t know was that womanhood is a race and sometimes we race for each other while other times we push one another down… it just depends on what time of the month it is. I have never understood that about us.

To be honest, I almost passed up my best friend because I was threatened by her. She did everything I did, but better and I just couldn’t have that. Well, it wasn’t worth the fight, she’s too wonderful and I gave in. I have thought about that a few times… what if I would of resisted being her friend out of pride and missed out on our kindred friendship, what a shame that would have been.

As a woman I feel that I understand women, but there is one thing I will never understand and maybe I don’t want to. Women as a sex are amazing. The women that I know, and I know a lot, are women to admire, some have even become my goal. By goal I mean that I have been lucky enough to know women who make me want to be better, women I look at and say “I hope I can be like her someday”. I have always been rooting for the girls. In me there is a tiny feminist and a big cheerleader for the women’s team. Because aren’t we a team…. I mean really aren’t we?

So the thing that I will never understand is why we just can’t be friends? I’m not talking bosom buddies, kindred spirits, or B.F.F’s to the end; I’m just talking about being happy for one another. Is it too much to ask that another woman’s accomplishment not be our failure? Can we just say “good for you, one more point for the girls team”?