This Time Last Year

October of 2013 saw some changes around this lil blog, and I thought I'd like to take a look back. Won't you join me?

The biggest thing is that I changed the name of my blog from "Just Jennifer" to "Dancing in the Rain". I have been so very happy with that decision! It just so much better represents me and what I'm doing here than a name that millions of other women share.

The View From Here: On the Brinks

Today I have a View from Kelly of Kelly Roberts Writing.

I began reading her words when I set out to get this post ready, and I was instantly sucked in. I had skimmed it briefly when she first sent it, but my skimming didn't get the point across.

Her writing is wonderful! Just see what I mean....

__________

On the Brinks

Many important things fill our Brinks fireproof lock box. 

There are certificates of birth and marriage, and thankfully not death. 

There are wills, my husband’s and mine, the kind drafted by lawyers— we keep the kind strengthened by perseverance through years together with us at all times. 

Savings bonds, social security cards and snippets of a child’s caramel-colored hair also rest in the box. 

The Best Decade of My Life

I think if one is going to pick out a decade of their life to be labeled the "best", it should be as an adult vs. child, because I think choosing 10 years from your childhood as your best or favorite is pretty much cheating. Of course all of us could say those were some of the best, now that we're in the trenches of adulthood.

As long as you had a decent childhood, clearly you'd love to be a kid again. We know now that, despite having to keep our rooms clean, it was SO MUCH EASIER.

I contemplated this thought, though: what was my favorite decade? What chunk of time did the best things happen? What would I love to go back and experience again, only this time really living in those moments, nary a drop of impatience for the next thing?

I think it would have to be the years between the ages of 23 and 33.

Now I'm not saying I think it's all downhill from here, that I have nothing left to look forward to, or that maybe some decade in the future might not be one of my best. I'm only turning 40 next month, not 80!

But you know, the things that happened in the years between 1997-2007 will remain, no matter whatever else happens before I die, some of the best and most important of my life.

~ Mark asked me to marry him on my 23rd birthday. Officially, that is. We had been talking about spending the rest of our lives together for years already.

~ We got married a little over a year later, when I was 24, and proceeded to enjoy a super fun and fabulous honeymoon in San Diego.

Just under a year after our wedding, I turned 25 and promptly got the serious urge to have a baby. I was in a very long process of applying for a job with the city where we lived at the time so I told myself and Mark if I got the job, we'd wait another year, if I didn't, we could go ahead and try. I didn't get the job.

~ The following year, in July, we welcomed our millennium baby, Camryn, into the world.

Technically, this was 2004, but sshh, it doesn't matter!
Also, three generations.

Now, the next few things are a bit up and down. Or down and up, and down.

~ When Camryn was a year and a half old, winter of 2002, Mark lost his transplanted kidney and pancreas, necessitating a return to insulin and dialysis. It totally sucked.

Now that we had a child, dealing with Mark's health problems became a bigger burden for me. I could no longer stay overnight at the hospital with him, or spend a whole lot of time at the hospital with a child, for that matter. Living in the SF Bay Area, we were completely on our own. I had no help.

~ After much thought, research and discussion, we decided to move to Washington state in June 2003, where I was from and still had family. This was a very good thing. It's been almost 11 years and I've never regretted that decision.

~ Once we settled in Washington, we had to deal with our financial situation. Everything we had been through to date with Mark's health, residing in a place with a very high cost of living, and just plain ole poor judgement, meant we had to file for bankruptcy. Not great.

So there's the iffy stuff. Throw in making some pretty great new friends, and you can see how I might still consider this time in my life to be good.

And then!

~ A couple of years later, in January of 2006, when I was 31 3/4, our family was completed with the birth of our son AJ.

~ For the next year+ I got to coo at and cuddle and love on a baby. He turned eight this year. Sigh.

Unless you know of a fairy Godmother who could magically take away the loss of my husband's transplant and going into bankruptcy, I think I'm stuck with those two bad things.

Otherwise, it was a heckuva decade!




This has been a Finish the Sentence Friday post.

Lost To Me

My babies are lost to me.

I only got to have two, and now they're no more.

My daughter is 13 and my son is about to turn 8. They are big kids.

There is nothing "baby" about them.

I miss my babies.

It's not that who they are now isn't great. It is. They are.

They are healthy and beautiful and bright and funny. They are challenging, obstinate and obnoxious.

Typical kids.

Their baby selves were soft, sweet, cuddly. They fit perfectly in the crook of my arm to nurse and nestled their sleepy little heads just below my shoulder. I could feel their breaths on my neck.

So warm.

Camryn Rose

Alexander Jared

I miss my babies.

Because, save for pictures, they are lost to me now.

I want to never forget.

__________
*I have been feeling more and more wistful like this as AJ's birthday approaches. Prodded to express it by Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop prompt #2: Write a post inspired by the word 'lost'.

Tween to Teen

My daughter Camryn will turn 13 in a month.

Yeah, I know.

THIRTEEN.

She was halfway through her childhood at 9. Now she is just 5 short years away from legal adulthood.

FIVE.

I'm not sure we're ready for this.

I remember at the younger ages from about four to seven or so.....this push and pull thing going on. Like, I'm getting big, but still little enough to need my mommy a lot.

They call it autonomy.

This age involves a lot of push and pull too.

It's always about a month before Camryn's birthday that I start noticing changes in her. It's like her biological clock is perfectly timed to her birth date. She will suddenly acquire a new skill or a fresh new understanding of something. She will gain a new perspective or form a new opinion. Something will click that hadn't before.

I remember one year it was being able to cook eggs all by herself. Another year it was switching from a kiddie party to a big girl slumber party.

Now? Now it's the beginning of parental embarrassment. The beginning of sarcastic sassyness that knows-no-boundaries-but-she-better-damn-well-learn-them.

One day last week we went to Red Robin for dinner and my little girl who really doesn't want me to call her Cami anymore refused the kid's menu.

Push.

A few days later we headed to Payless for some new sandals for summer. Camryn spent the majority of the time we were there trying on fancy high heels we would never let her buy nor wear. Her dad was beside himself, leaning over to me and whispering, "I'm really not OK with this."

We sized her foot, discovering she and I are currently the same size. I thought this could be rather convenient because we could share shoes.

But my darling daughter wants nothing to do with sharing shoes with her mother.

Push.

Turns out her feet are skinnier than mine so she can squeeze her little tootsies into shoes I cannot. Whatever. She still has feet way too big for a 12 year old, so there!

But her big feet make me think back to when I was pregnant with her and the day I had my 20(ish) week ultrasound. We got a picture of her foot, which the tech commented on being big. When she was born, a friend of ours called her feet skis.

There are a couple of things leftover from littlegirlhood. Cami still calls us Mommy and Daddy. Since I know every other kid her age (and younger) is using the shorter Mom and Dad, I find myself asking her when she might make the switch. She seems to be unconcerned with it.

Pull.

Cami still likes to be tucked into bed at night. She is utterly offended by the idea that she could just go up to bed on her own.

Pull.

On the other hand, Camryn is asking me about the possibility of riding her bike places. Like outside of our neighborhood and by herself.

(I was doing that much younger than her, but we all know how parenting and childhood have changed.)

Push.

I'll take this push and pull right now, even though it might give me a little whiplash.

I will cherish the moments I hear, "Mommy, I need to talk to you about something." And when she sits right up next to me on the couch. Or when she looks back at me as she's walking up to the fast food counter to get more ranch for her fries....

I will keep encouraging her to stick with Girl Scouts for as long as absolutely possible.

Because I know it's all going to change. I know my daughter; maybe it will be slowly. But the saying goes, "slowly but.....surely".

Also connected with Memories Captured and Pour Your Heart Out.

Cousins

My mother-in-law and niece visited us last week. It was a very nice visit that did not involve the hospital!

Our niece Lindsay is almost 19 and just a fantastic young woman. It was great how she would bounce between hanging with our kids and holding adult conversation with us.

I met this girl when she was just 6 months old!

I only wish her older sister and my sister-in-law could have come too!

Mark got this great shot the last night they were here:

Do they all have the same chin?

Short-Term Memory

There are all kinds of things we remember over the course of life. Some big, some small. You remember something that someone else doesn't. We are molded by the experiences that become our memories.

Usually we think of stuff in years past. But what about things that have shaped us more recently? The things that will forever be locked away in our memory banks, but as yet still feel merely like recent happenings.

10 New Memories

1. Getting to show Lake Tahoe to AJ for the first time in August 2011

2. Seeing my Uncle Mark perform and then his death exactly a week later on October 22, 2011. The night of the day he died, how his loved ones all came together in his studio and were there for each other. Truly one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen.

3. On Christmas 2011 when we went to visit family at my Aunt Renee's. My Uncle Scott gave my kids these necklaces. The one he gave AJ was a shark's tooth. My uncle had no idea AJ would love that so much. (Sharks are one of AJ's very favorite things.)

4. Writing a special post to my husband at the end of January this year, not knowing what was coming.

5. The night of March 1, 2012. Well, technically March 2 at about 3:00 in the morning, getting a call from the hospital that Mark's heart had stopped, he was resuscitated and moved to ICU.

6. The way EVERYONE we love was there for us in some capacity the entire month of March. I will never forget how HELD I felt. How my friends hated to leave my side, how family flocked to Mark's bedside. Those memories help keep me going now.

7. My 38th birthday dinner at The Melting Pot in April. My first time. So fabulous!

8. Mark going back to work at the end of June. After what he went through in March, no one expected him to feel well enough to go back to work. He works less than he used to, but still. HUGE.

9. Both of our kids being away from us for over a week for the first time in August. And Mark and I getting to be alone together.

10.  Early memories from the current school year: the way AJ bounds happily in the door each day eager to do his homework and get out to play with his friends. This, from Camryn's Gateway teacher:

Camryn has had an outstanding quarter in my class.  The growth I have seen in her from last year to now has been incredible.  She is a much more confident learner.  I now see a student who is willing to take on all challenges.  In my class she has a solid A, a grade that she has earned through hard work.  I know one of your concerns was her unwillingness to seek help when needed.  No longer the case in my class, she has tremendous drive to complete her work and when she gets stuck she has  been asking for help without hesitation (a huge change from last year).

Come back later this week for the second November Thankful Thursday!

The First Time I....

The FIRST of anything is momentous, no?

Your first kiss. Your first love. The first time you....ahem. The first time you feel your baby kick. Your baby's first little poop.

Somehow, I'm only listing ten.

10 FIRSTS I REMEMBER WELL

1. First time I hiked up a mountain - I was REALLY little

2. Learning to ride a bike - With my dad, on a hill.

3. The day I realized the stop sign was blurry - got my first pair of glasses at age 7.

4. Went to my first concert when I was 12 - Bon Jovi of course!

5. Making out with a boy for the first time - Jeff, during lunch, just outside our high school grounds. It was so cool.

6. My first eye surgery - was also the first time I had ever been in the hospital (since birth)

7. The first time I got drunk - I was 16. Ssshh, don't tell my kids!

8. The day I knew I liked a guy named Mark.

9. The first time I threw up from morning sickness - throwing up is terribly traumatic for me so I tried so hard not to and bawled my eyes out because I did.

10. The day I found out my second child was a boy after five girls had been born on Mark's side (I don't have any siblings), and I got to call my father-in-law to tell him there was "a stem on the apple" and then go pick out some blue baby things.

OMG that was hard! I typed out so many other things that I ended up deleting. There are just too many firsts. I'm really good at remembering dates, so there's a lot in my head.

The Beauty All Around

I am the last person I would have thought would ever be into taking photos. I distinctly remember many years ago thinking I would never need to even own a camera because I'm visually impaired, so pictures probably just wouldn't be a big part of my life. Fine for others to take all the pictures they want, but me? Naw.

And then some important things started to happen. Like my wedding. Then a baby. Scrapbooking was suggested to me when my daughter was born and I totally poo-pooed it. "I can't see well enough to scrapbook!", I said.

How wrong I was. About all of it. Not only did I still need to care about pictures, but yes, I could scrapbook if I wanted to!

But that's not even the point. By thinking in such a narrow way, I was limiting my experiences, limiting their impact on me and not fully APPRECIATING them.

Shame on me.

I read the book The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold several years ago. In it was a perspective changer for me:

Now I love taking pictures. Of everything from the awesome to the mundane. Because I am visually impaired they will never be the caliber of a professional photographer. I don't care. Besides, there are so many widgets and whatnot to help me make them look better. The pictures I take mean I am present, that I am PAYING ATTENTION.

This is why Instagram is so freaking fabulous!

That book quote may have given me a great way to think about photographs, but having a visual impairment gives me a special perspective as well. Every single time I step outside, I take it all in. I look up at the sky, down at the ground, at my neighbor's house or the car parked on the street. The color of a bright flower will catch my eye and I have to stop and LOOK. Often this requires walking right up to it. Also often, stopping to take a picture affords me a clearer look later on.

Sunsets! Clouds! Flowers! Fall Leaves! My children's faces! My kids catch me staring at them. It's all so BEAUTIFUL to me. I will never take SEEING these things for granted. No. In fact, I cherish the vision I still have because it was nearly taken away from me.

All this is to lead up to sharing some of the Fall beauty I've captured this year, just right around my neighborhood. The colors and contrasts never cease to amaze me.

The Moment I Knew

When you're really young you wonder and daydream about romance and finding your true love.

How will I know he's the ONE?

"Oh, you'll just know, dear", they say.

As it turns out, it's true. At least it was for me. There was absolutely a distinct moment when I knew that Mark was it for me.

__________

The date was April 7, 1996. Easter. The place was the University of California at San Francisco Medical Center. Mark and I had been together almost two years when he went under the knife for nearly 12 hours to receive a kidney and pancreas transplant.

At first it was only the two of us at the hospital as Mark was prepped for surgery. But by the time they wheeled him away, his mother, father and step-mother had arrived. I was grateful they made the trip, as I had no clue what I was going to do with myself during the long wait ahead of me.

The surgery began in the middle of the night. Since none of us could remember the last time we had eaten, we found an all night diner. The situation was so stressed and tense; very awkward for me to be sitting there with my boyfriend's divorced parents. Mark's dad thought we should try to get some rest. His mom opted to return to the hospital and set up camp in a waiting room. I wish I had joined her, but instead I accepted the invitation to get a hotel room with Mark's dad and step-mom. I slept for about four hours, waking around 7:00 AM, very eager to get back to the hospital. It was excruciating to wait for the others to get ready.

To this day, after many hospital stays, I still do not know what it is about physically being AT the hospital that makes one feel better about what their loved one is going through. It's simply preferable to be right there in the thick of it.

Unfortunately there were 3-4 more hours of surgery remaining once I took my seat in the waiting room next to Mark's mom. We drank complimentary coffee. We made small talk. I walked on eggshells, praying my future in-laws would behave themselves.

Speaking of prayers, I cannot know how many I said from the moment Mark left my sight, to the moment I saw his surgeon standing in front of us. One an hour? One every half hour? All I know is I prayed my little heart out. I prayed for the steadiness of his surgeon's hands, that the donated organs were a good match and would kick-in right away, and that this was the best thing for him.

Some vague time after noon the surgeon appeared. She informed us that the procedure had gone well and that Mark was still asleep. He would need to stay in recovery for an hour or two and then he would be admitted to the ICU for the first couple of days. The best news of all was that as soon as she sutured in the new kidney, it began producing urine!

I believe I stalked the hallway in front of the ICU doors for what seemed like an eternity. Doctors, nurses, students and patient visitors going in and out as I anticipated a glimpse of Mark. When finally he was wheeled by, I could barely tell it was him for all the equipment he was attached to. Once in the ICU, we had to wait for his nurse to get him set up as her charge. The waiting was endless. The waiting is always endless in hospitals.

The time came when we were allowed to see Mark. He was in and out of consciousness. I was very anxious to see him, but I hung back and let his parents go to his bedside first. They touched him gently, spoke quietly. Each of them hoping for a sign from Mark that he knew they were there.

He would try to open his eyes every now and then. Turned his head from side to side some. Maybe also tried to lift his arm. After awhile his mother realized I was waiting and said so to the other two. She gestured for me to come and stepped out of the way.

I couldn't say much past the huge lump in my throat. I came forward and positioned myself on Mark's left side. I hesitated, took a breath and placed my left hand in his and my right hand on top of his head. I said, "Hi Mark, it's me, Jen."

Mark turned his head toward the sound of my voice, opened his eyes and squeezed my hand, hard.

My knees buckled, but I didn't move. How could I possibly? No longer able to contain my emotion,  I grinned and the tears flowed.

In that one moment, when Mark used what little energy he had to acknowledge my presence, he let me know just how much I meant to him, how much he loved me. And I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I felt the same.

__________
I've told this story verbally many times over the years. But I was inspired to write it by a prompt from Mama Kat, and I'm sharing it with the awesome bloggers at the Yeah Write Speakeasy.

10 Things My Parents Did Right

You know what? My parents don't completely suck. They never really did.

Shocking, I know. But here's the thing, we all think they do suck during every teen year at some point, don't we?

There are simply things kids cannot understand until they themselves are parents too. I'm already telling my kids this. Regularly!

The benefit of hindsight being what it is....

Things I Think My Parents Did Right

1. They tried - I had very young parents. My dad was 20 and my mom was almost 17 when I was born. They got married and became parents. Despite their divorce 5 years later, I know they tried. And I never really had any angst over it.

2. They didn't shelter me - One of my earliest memories is when our dog, Blue, had to be put down. My parents told me and had me say goodbye to him. I vividly remember crying and hugging his neck. The way they handled it, helped me understand. And I don't think anything was ever dumbed-down for me.

3. Cousins - My dad is one of five, so for the first 2/3 of my childhood (until I went to live with my mom) I spent as much time as possible with my cousins. I'm an only child, so I simply adored spending time with them.

4. I wasn't spoiled - Many only children can grow up spoiled rotten. When I was young my parents were working class, so they couldn't spoil me with material things. But I don't believe they would have if they had been able. I had everything I needed, plus one pretty awesome banana seat Schwinn bicycle!

5. Stability - My dad  and step-mom provided a steady, predictable home life where I knew what was expected of me, and I did it. This is not even something I can always do for my own kids due to my husband's health problems. But you can be damn sure that when we're not in crisis mode, my kids' little lives are steady and predictable.

6. Appreciation of the outdoors - I grew up camping, hiking, biking, boating, swimming and even did a little skiing. I hiked Mt. Pilchuck here in Washington when I was 2 or 3! Both my parents made sure I saw the beauty all around me, whether the lushness of the Pacific Northwest or the natural wonder of Yosemite Valley in California. And let's not forget that I got to LIVE in Lake Tahoe! I may not do many of those things anymore, but I still appreciate the beauty around me.

7. Music - My father is an audiophile who loves music, and has a nice singing voice. My uncle was a musician and singer who owned his own recording studio. My cousin is a concert pianist. My mother would turn ordinary conversation into song (with much eye rolling from me). I got to be in the school band, playing a flute that was rented to own. Such a fun memory I have is of my mom and I ROCKING OUT to Bon Jovi in her Jeep, singing at the top of our lungs. All of this rubbed off on me.

8. Knowing what makes you happy and doing it - When my parents were divorcing my mother realized she couldn't live in Washington anymore. But my dad had custody. It sucked that my mom needed to live so far away from me, but even when I was little I somehow understood, and even respected her for doing what she needed to do to build a life on her own.

9. Freedom to be me - I was free to learn whatever interested me. I was free to develop my own spiritual beliefs. When my mom decided to stop eating meat, she didn't force me to do so as well. My parents never tried to make me into some vision they had of who I should be.

10. An abundance of Love - No matter what ever happened in our lives, I never doubted that I was loved. There's not much more I can say about that. Just love. And affection. There were always hugs, kisses and "I love yous" going around!

Fourteen Years of Marriage

Today is my 14th wedding anniversary. Yay us!

I have such a hard time with saying only that, though. Because we've been together a total of 18 years. Those first 4 years were nothing to sneeze at!

I mean, we met at a school for the blind and moved in together after less than than 6 months. Mark's kidneys failed, he got a dual kidney and pancreas transplant, and then had cataract surgery and could see well enough to drive again. We both took college classes and worked.

THEN we got married.

So to honor those 4 years, I wanted to share the first portrait of us EVER. Try not to laugh....

No, your eyes do not deceive you. Mark does indeed have a mullet and a mustache. And I thought my hair looked so good. It didn't.

But I still love this picture. As you can see it is in a frame and it hangs on our bedroom wall. It's us in our very first year and that makes it special.

Kindergarten in the Rear View

My little man, AJ, graduated from kindergarten last week!

His impending entrance into 1st grade is a much bigger deal to me than kindergarten was. K wasn't much different from preschool. However, 1st grade will mean all-day school, eating lunch there and  everything! No more days off during conference week, no more two week spring breaks. Enter homework and real math!

My baby is so not a baby anymore. Can I cry now?

I Was (sort of) a Senior Hottie

Twe-cough-nty years ago THIS YEAR I graduated high school.

Class of 1992.

South Tahoe High: Home of the Vikings.

I had an interesting last couple years of high school. I really didn't have much fun my senior year, barely managing to squeak in the final memories of the senior class picnic and prom.

But I did!

I'm feeling a little self-conscious about sharing these photos because they show my blind left eye, long before I got a pretty prosthetic.

Senior Portrait

Yearbook

Prom
My date was my good friend, Derek

Graduation

BONUS: My BFF's prom pic - she was really HOT!

Whom I now lovingly refer to as J. Ho,
which has nothing to do with this photo!

And a recent photo of me:

Man, there's no denying that I've changed a lot!

Self-Portrait

My little boy drew this for school.

Probably something only a mother could love - and I DO!

:-)