Miles. My little Two-Year-Old.

Happy Birthday, Miles!! You're two today! 

   

We've had a lovely weekend celebrating you. We threw you a party yesterday morning. Some of your favorite people were there. The theme for your birthday was a bit girly. I apologize. Next year you can have a say in it. ;) The theme this year was Spring! It's been a long Winter and so I wanted to celebrate the ending of Winter and the beginning of Spring - even though it was a blustery and cold, winter-like day outside. 

Chalk art doesn't last long in this house before it gets smudged or drawn over. I tried.

Lemon Cake with a Lemon Curd/Buttercream filling with whipped frosting.  

This fruit salad was lovingly created by your father. You' loved it!

Gruyere + Bacon Quiche, Sausage Biscuits, Fruit Salad and Lemon Cake.  

Such a yummy birthday brunch.

Couldn't have a Spring theme without pretty flowers. Your daddy loves me.

My little bookworm. You were SO excited about your new book.

You did not want anything to do with blowing the candles out. So big brother stood in.

Your party theme quickly changed to DUPLO theme. Almost every gift you received contained a set of Duplos. Which completely made your day. You are such a fan of stacking and building. Your family and friends know you well.

Today (on your actual birthday), we decided to be brave and took you out to breakfast. Aside from a few squawky moments, you did really well. Sometime soon, we'll be able to do this more often - you're just still too unpredictable. 

This is how you answer when someone asks how old you are. Twoooo!

I love sneaking a peek (or a pic) when you're praying. 

After breakfast we went to Choo-Choo Bobs. You were in train heaven. Your Grandpa Paul would love it there and would be proud to know that you share the same love for trains. You spent some of your birthday money there too. You have such kind Grandparents.

A perfect place to go on a cold Winter Spring day. 

------------<>------------

I looked at the clock at 7:35pm tonight on our way home from our church's Small Group, and was immediately transported back 2 years. I remember so clearly the day you were born. I waited for your arrival for what seemed like forever. I remember hardly sleeping the night before you were born, not because of contractions, but because I was excited about the possibility of going in the next morning and being induced. I'm so glad that they had room for me on that mild March day. I don't think I would have liked to go another day without knowing you, without feeling your tiny fingers, or hearing your little voice, or snuggling with you, or smelling your smelly little toots. Okay, maybe I could have gone without that last one. Seriously, dude. Your newborn toots totally cleared the room. And two years later you're still a little stinker.

You are a wiggly-handful, my little two-year old love. You're always on the go...even when sleeping. There have been nights where I have gone in to put a blanket on you, only to go in a minute later to find the blanket already off of you. Sometimes you roll out of the blanket before I even leave the room. You keep me on my toes. You have a special skill of making me laugh and groan in the same minute.  I'm embarrassed to say how many times I say "no" to you each day, my naughty little Milo. You seriously know how to push all of my buttons. ALL OF THEM. But then there are those moments in which you squeeze in a sloppy little kiss, or say funny things, or surprise me by gobbling down the food I make for you, and that gives me hope that I won't have to pull out all of my hair.

Your adoration for your dad is so endearing. You are his little shadow. Every weeknight around the same time, you pull up your little stool and peer out the window, awaiting his arrival from work to home. He receives your chatter, your radiant face and your hugs with a huge grin as he comes through the door. I think he rather likes being adored. I mean, c'mon, who wouldn't want to come home to that?

I love that you call your dad: papa and me: momma (sometimes in a French accent). You're still working on a name for Simon. It changes every time I hear it.

What I don't like are your poopy diapers. Seriously kid, they are the stinkiest things ever. You're so generous to me. A daily chore that I sometimes have to do multiple times a day. Definitely not my favorite. But I'm glad you're regular. Really, I am. You do make me smile a little bit after you've done the deed, by pointing to your little butt and saying "Pe-Yew". That is one of the instances where the laughing and groaning in the same minute second occur.

I love it when you say or do something that cracks yourself up and I hear you sigh to yourself  "good one". Or when you start singing "No way, no way, no way..." to yourself. You surprise me with your personality. You enjoy your alone time. I'll find you upstairs all by yourself playing quietly with your cars, dinosaurs or reading a book. You don't share very well and so I think playing by yourself is a good way of avoiding having to practice that virtue. Someday.

Your love for music is adorable. Your dance moves crack me up. I love watching your head bob to your favorite tunes. Your favorite songs are "My God is So Big" "Here We Go Go Go On An Adventure" (Cat in the Hat),  the old Batman theme song and "Hallelu Hallelu Praise Ye The Lord". 

I know I shouldn't find it so funny when you say the word "no", but I do. I think it has something to do with how you say it and what you do when you're saying it. You're usually serious and you're usually pointing your finger at the lucky person as you say it. And you use a lot of tongue when you're pronouncing that naughty little word.  I also like it when you say "Yah". "Do you want to go bye-bye?" "Yahhh."

You adore puppies and will usually make a puppy sound when you see one. And crackers. If you could live off of crackers, you would. Sadly, you're a picky eater. Some days are better than others. You do enjoy pretty much any kind of carb, yogurt, bananas, oatmeal, sometimes eggs...

You are totally my son when it comes to getting out of the house - you even do well shopping...most of the time. You love to people-watch. This current winter has been such a hard season for you. You LOVE being outside. Being cooped up is not your favorite. This Spring/Summer is going to be HUGE for you - I already foresee many trips to the park and lots of walks with you, my energetic little boy.

TV and movies do not appeal to you. I think this is a good thing. But sometimes....I wish you would sit for 30 minutes and take a break from being a human tornado.

You are shy and do not like to go to other people when papa and momma are around. I have noticed in the last month or so that you are getting better at this. Babysitters are usually met with loud cries of protest (which to your credit do not last long after we leave - or so we've been told).  I know that I should feel honored that you love us that much.

You are so very different from your older brother. And yet, you compliment him so well. He ADORES you with every fiber of his being. You have cast a spell him. The amount of patience and love that he has for you is precious. I hope you come to admire and appreciate it as much as I do. When I think back to when you were born, one of the biggest highlights was introducing him to you.

 

From the very first meeting he has been your biggest fan. When I think of the future I foresee two brothers who are different and yet who are the best of friends.

Happy birthday, my love. My littlest one. My Milo. My stinky-butt-kid. My Miles Paul.

We love you, buddy!

In loving memory of our red couch.

Our living room got a makeover today. We switched out our old red couch with a classic-looking gray Ikea couch.

I didn't think I would be so emotional saying goodbye to our red couch. A lot of memories happen in 7 years time. The most precious of memories would be bringing my babies home from the hospital and just sitting for hours days, snuggling with them and breathing in their lovely baby scent.

Miles (House #1)

Simon (Apt. #2)

Simon (Apt. #2)

 

My Dizzy Frog business started on this couch.

 

 
We've entertained friends and family.

 My children learned how to climb on it.

Easter {2013}

We've watched countless movies and football games on it.

Broncos vs. Patriots

And it's shared all three homes with us (2 apartments, 1 house).

 

 

Apartment #1

Simon (Apt. #2)

Our First Home

>>>>>>>>misc. couch pics that make my heart a'flutter<<<<<<<<

Praying for daddy {2013}

Baby Simon. {2008}

Simon. {2008}

Simon {2008}

Simon {2008}

Brothers {2012}

Baby Miles {2012}

Miles' 1st Birthday {2013}

 <<<<>>>>

If only our red couch could talk. I'm excited to see what this new couch has in store for us. I know it's silly to think of a couch in this way, but I'm sentimental like that. Goodbye, Red. Hello Gray.

Couch:  Ikea EKORP Sofa with a Svanby Gray Slipcover.  Pillows: Curtain Panel, Target.

Be Still, My Soul. Remembering...

My first post of 2014.

Looking back on my last post, I'm overwhelmed with many emotions. It was the last post before our world was turned upside down, before the cold weather hit hard, before doctor visits became our norm. Before Halloween, Thanksgiving, my 30th birthday, Christmas and New Years. Looking back at the title of that post, I'm struck with how appropriate it was for the rest of the year. I tried to blog a few times since October 13th. But I never got to the point where I felt like I could publish. I had a million and one thoughts constantly tumbling around in my tiny mind. Writing helped to unload it, but just like it is with my trusty old dishwasher, there's always dirty dishes to take the place of the clean ones and I found myself overwhelmed and overcome with both good and bad...clean and dirty. My brain has felt like mush since October. Add holidays, getting sick, taking care of sickies, being the strong one, being the brave one, being the healthy one (for the most part) only added to the mushiness.

It's been 13 weeks since we first heard the word lymphoma. Since we were first struck with the very awful sense that there was something really wrong with my husband. That this wasn't just the common cold. The fevers, the fatigue, the night sweats, the immense swelling of lymph nodes on his neck, the loss of weight (16 pounds in 2 weeks - sign me up. Or not). It was all so very real and scary. I'll never forget the night when Peter sat me down and said that the doctor had called him earlier that day with the news that they did in fact find traces of lymphoma from the needle biopsy...two weeks after the biopsy had been done. I'll never forget the emotions of hearing the phone ring, hoping that it was the doctor on the other line with news. ANY news. Every time that phone rang, my heart would stop and then start up again, beating 100X faster. The waiting was the hardest. We live in a day where we can get whatever we want at the swipe of a finger. The age of the smart phone, the internet - technology at its best. Everything is faster, speedier. Everything except for medical test results. 3 days. A week. 2 weeks. At the end of the week. Inconclusive, second opinions. Positive. Negative. We heard it all. Our eyes were opened to a whole new world. A world of cancer. Of hurting people, of pain, of the unknown. Weeks full of doctor appointments. We were drawn closer together as husband and wife, as a family. Our friends and family reached out to us with genuine love and care. Our church family made themselves available, they prayed for us during their staff prayer time...and personal prayer time as well. Our elders prayed over Peter with outstretched arms and oil. Our Pastor of a congregation of 5,000 people (spread over three campuses) was kept up-to-date on how Peter was doing and prayed for him as well. We had people stop by the house to drop food off, to pray with us. We even had a friend show up at the hospital with coffee and food in hand, unexpected. Care packages were sent from people I hardly know. We were humbled. We were loved. We were made aware of God's goodness and ever present presence in a whole new and beautiful way. Scripture jumped off the pages at us, the radio played songs that made us cry and spoke to us in a time of need. Random texts from people popped up on our phone screens and made us weep. God made Himself so real. The intimacy was sweet.

One of the songs that became precious to us was Tenth Avenue North's Worn. It's become quite popular now, but back in October, it was brand new to us. We had never heard it. It popped up on my Pandora station that I was listening to. I remember having to sit down because I was so overcome. A sob escaped me and Peter called out from the other room asking if I was okay.  As soon as the song was over, I went over to the bed where Peter was resting and had him listen to it. We wept together. Since we first heard the song, our Christian radio station began playing it non-stop. And every time it came on, Peter and I would catch each other's eye and smile a weary and knowing smile.

 

I remember going to bed the night Peter told me he had lymphoma, the night before his surgery was to take place. He was reading a devotional out loud to me. It was about Jesus' birth in a stable. I remember thinking, God I already know the Christmas story - I can't really apply this to my life right now. Why are we reading about Christmasy stuff on November 18th.? Why couldn't this chapter be about pain and suffering? I need help. I need to be encouraged. I need to know how to encourage my scared husband... To be told that everything is going to be alright. That you are still mighty to save. And then Peter got to the last page and my spiritual ears suddenly perked up.

  "And in that is a Christmas word to us.  There are times while seeking to follow God faithfully, we find ourselves in a desperate moment, forced to a place we would not choose to go. It's then we must remember: our lives and circumstances are not ultimately about us (1 Cor. 6:19-20). They are about Jesus Christ.
  The Father has purposes for us and our hardships that extend far beyond us. What often appear like misfortunes in the moment later prove to be means of great mercies.  
  In your place of desperation it may be that what you need most is not less turmoil, but more trust.  For God chooses stables of desperation as the birthplaces of His overwhelming grace." (Not by Sight - Jon Bloom)

I was speechless. I was in awe. I was crying. We both were. I took the book from his hands after he was done reading, to reread it. I then snapped a picture of the page on my iphone so I could take it with me the next morning to read during his surgery. Nine weeks have passed and Christmas has come and gone. The realness of that night still glows bright in my memory. I still tear up when I read that section of the book.

Since that night, my husband had surgery to remove an actual lymph node. Surgery went well, as did recovery. He was a trooper. He also met with an oncologist on December 2nd. Sitting in the waiting room of the Cancer Care Center was unreal. I noticed blankets in baskets at easy reach for the patients, I read signs saying please refrain from wearing perfume in respect of the patients. I noticed knitted hats on hairless heads. And I quickly realized that the nurses knew these patients not only by sight, but also by name and vise versa - these were all things you don't see very often. At least I don't. We felt very much like visitors and outsiders. As I sat there absorbing all of the sights, I fought back tears thinking that the stranger sitting across from me with her cancer-ridden loved one, might be me in a few weeks. The thought was very sobering. I remember how encouraging the visit was with the oncologist. He was very impressed with how well Peter was and had been feeling. He gave up hope and was pretty convinced that the test results would be available at the end of that week and that they would be favorable. If indeed the results came back negative, he still wanted Peter to schedule a CT scan and followup with him at the end of January (8 weeks out). Just to see how things were looking (even though he was encouraged with how well Peter was feeling, he could still feel way too many lymph nodes that he shouldn't be able to feel by hand). I for one was beyond excited to not have any doctor appointments in our near future. 8 weeks out seemed like a beautiful eternity. We left with restored hope and once again, we were jumping at every phone call Peter received. That next day, on December 3rd, we celebrated my 30th birthday. My wish as I blew out my candles was an easy one to make...and I didn't have to think on it like I usually do, because it had become a daily wish ever since November 18th.  I wish God would heal Peter and make his cancer go away.

I'll never forget that Thursday afternoon, just a few days later after his appointment. Peter called me. He said that his doctor had called him and the results came back with no traces of lymphoma. They had even sent the samples over for a second opinion with the Mayo Clinic. NO CANCER! We were in shock and honestly, a little numb. It took us a few days to digest the good news and to feel up to letting everyone know. It was almost like finding out that we were pregnant. We wanted to let the whole world know...and yet, it felt wrong spreading the news just minutes after finding out. We needed a couple of days where it was just us knowing the good precious news. I also knew that it wouldn't be so simple to pass on the word. Just as it was with keeping everyone updated, it took a lot of planning to let our loved ones know the good news. First our families needed to know (in person, phone, email, texting), then close friends (phone, email, texting, fb messaging), our small group and church (email, phone call), and lastly, our facebook world of friends and family. I had learned early on in this journey that I was in sore need of a personal assistant to help me keep everything and everyone up-to-date and to help me stay organized. By the time the good news came around to spread, my brain was indeed mush. BUT, I think I made the rounds without forgetting anybody. :p

This verse came to mind so often, and still remains precious.  It really helped me to know that Peter wasn't going through this for nothing. That there was a purpose for and through this.

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. For as we share abundantly in Christ's sufferings, so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort too.  If we are afflicted, it is for your comfort and salvation; and if we are comforted, it is for your comfort, which you experience when you patiently endure the same sufferings that we suffer. Our hope for you is unshaken, for we know that as you share in our sufferings, you will also share in our comfort. - 2 Corinthians 1:3-7


Since the good news, I've felt drained and have fought a few battles of depression. Which I find to be strange and confusing. Shouldn't it be the opposite? Shouldn't I be jumping up and down with happiness and contentment?  A small part of me was. My goodness, I was ecstatic, to put it mildly. But only a small part of me found the ability to dance a happy dance. The rest of me was fighting for strength. For weeks I had been the strong one, the one at peace, the optimist. And yet when all finally seemed right with my world, I was at my lowest. I blame it partly on the stress of the last few months, the stress of Christmas AND the stress and blahness of MN winter. Homesickness too. Also, on a stubborn sinus headache that lasted a good 6 weeks. The fatigue and pain that overtook me was intense. My 30th birthday was no fun. A birthday that I had been highly anticipating. All of this did not help my depression at all. Thankfully, I am close to feeling back to my normal, whacky self. My husband has been patient with me and my kids have loved me unconditionally. And God has been constant.  Even when I was at my lowest, He was still faithful. This song was sung at church on Sunday during the offertory. I fought back many tears...and let a few escape, much to my mascara's horror. I have since claimed this song as mine.


On a happier note...

Our Christmas card makes me smile for so many reasons. 1) We're together and smiling - genuine happy smiles. 2) The bible verse under our names was a verse we held very dear to us through Peter's illness. We claimed it daily: By His stripes we are healed. 3) I knew that each person that we sent our Christmas card to had been praying for us. That was so very humbling.

Now to Him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us, to Him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever. Amen. - Ephesians 3:20-21

----------

Blog posts without pictures can become quite dull...especially loooong ones like this one. Thanks to my instagram, I was able to journal via pictures during those dark weeks.

A dear and sweet friend showed up unexpectedly at the hospital during Peter's needle biopsy. She wasn't sure if I was going  to be able to be in the room with Peter during the procedure, and she didn't want me to be alone, so she showed up to sit with me. She ended up sitting by herself in the waiting room, with food and drink in hand for us. I was blown away by her kindness and thoughtfulness.

My first nephew was born while Simon and Peter were sick. We met him the night after Peter's needle biopsy, a couple of weeks after he was born. Holding him was magical.

Simon's prayer life increased as Peter's health deteriorated. He was constantly asking his daddy how he was feeling and then he would pray for him. My heart cried happy tears every time.

Like his older brother, Miles would often remind us to pray.

Miles became Peter's little shadow during Peter's illness. He could tell something was wrong and only wanted his daddy. They have been super close ever since.

 

Our sweet friends who now live in California were in MN visiting family. They took time out of their very busy schedule and drove all the way to Saint Paul to visit us - bringing bags full of food and goodies. Sweet darlings. 

My husband right before surgery. So brave, young and handsome.

high and low

Have you ever had a week where you enjoyed so many wonderful things...and yet so many things went wrong? We just had a weekend like that, and let me tell you...I'm exhausted! Wearily exhausted. My brain hurts from being so confused. Here is a brief synopses of our 3-day weekend.

Friday
High: We've been trying to plan a trip to Duluth this month. We knew we couldn't squeeze it into our already busy weekend, so after consulting the 10-day forecast, my husband took Friday off. Such a beautiful high. I love Autumn in Duluth. I knew Simon would have a lot of fun there and I was hoping Miles would too - his first Duluth trip!

Happy to be out of the car.

We enjoyed many things and visited some of our favorite places.

Thompson Hill:

Enger Tower and Gardens:

To date, this is my favorite picture of Peter and Miles.

The water was so choppy that the only boat we saw that day was a huge barge heading toward the Lift Bridge.

We made it to the top of the tower! Our eyes are so different.

Of all the places we visited, Enger Tower had the prettiest colors.

This is so unlike Miles. He never sleeps on people!

A Japanese Peace Bell from Duluth's sister city in Ohara, Japan

Kitchi Gammi Park:

His favorite pastime. 

Canal Park Brewery Company (Dinner):
No pictures. They were all on my iPhone. More on that under Sunday. :(

Canal Park:

The weather was gorgeous - but very windy. My hair was a crazy mess by the end of the day, warranting a shower as soon as the boys were in bed.

Low: Finding out that after said shower, water has been leaking under our tub for the past couple of days, dripping down into our kitchen. Seeing the outline of our tub on our kitchen ceiling is not a happy sight. Instead of enjoying a lazy Friday night with my man after a long day and 6 hours in the car, our evening was spent worrying about the tub and praying for wisdom for my husband...and trying to encourage him as best as I could. I felt so helpless.

Saturday
High: Celebrating my Mother-in-Law's 60th birthday. I'm so glad we were able to celebrate her - she's one of my favorite people!  It was fun seeing all of the cousins playing together and visiting with the grownups.

Low: More tub drama. Another evening taken up by trying to fix the leak - my husband is amazing. Also, having a SUPER cranky 18mo. He's been having such a rough couple of months. I've felt up his back gums a few times, trying to determine if this is teething crankiness, or just 18mo crankiness. It's so hard to tell. His constant whine and shyness of people who aren't his immediate family is getting SO.old and frustrating.

Sunday
High: Napping and Small Group. Watching The Great Gatsby.

Low: Working in the nursery after a cranky-baby weekend. All I wanted to do was drop my kids off in nursery/kindergarten and sit with my husband and listen to a missionary talk about God and his goodness and faithfulness. I needed to hear that sermon and be reminded about the goodness of God. But instead, it was my week to work in the nursery, changing diapers and wiping runny noses. I'm grateful for these nurseries and the children - and even though I was fighting for joy on our way to church, my attitude changed once I walked into the room - it's funny how being completely adored by 2 year old's can make you feel so much better - even if you are wiping butts and noses.  A few more lows of the day were the Vikings losing and not being able to sleep as long as I wanted during my Sunday afternoon nap. Also, a very clingy 18mo at our Small Group meeting - so much for enjoying a little break. But, the biggest low was updating my phone and then losing everything - which of course included all of my pictures. Having to go through the steps of setting up a new phone was not how I wanted to end my weekend. Also, staying up until close to 2 am trying to restore it was not cool. Especially when the alarm went off this morning.  Oh Monday.

So to say that my brain is confused on whether it should be happy or sad is an understatement. I'm weary. I'm tying not to hyperventilate about a long week ahead with my kids (is it bad that I'm craving a break from the Motherhood?). I just want a worry-free, kid-free, problem-free hour...or two. But instead, it'll be spent indoors as I re-install my apps back onto my phone, trying to keep up with the household chores and keeping my boys happy and entertained. Highs and lows.