Moving at the Speed of Life

Life moves so fast…

Almost 18 months ago, in a state of grace-meets-panic-meets-medication, David and I brought a baby boy into this crazy world. At what was no doubt a pinnacle moment, we realized a miracle, saw God’s favor come to fruition, and had a lifelong dream fulfilled; the miracle of Jericho’s birth will always be altered by how close we came at delivery to losing our little guy (cord incident). I will never forget watching him turn from gray to pink, and hearing those first cries…seeing my husband stand up and cut the cord (he couldn’t, at Hannah’s birth—he was completely freaked out)…and that first kiss…Getting to have my son in my hospital room with me…Gosh. Just typing this makes me choke up. I can’t believe it’s been 18 months!  I have friends who have had 2, 3, 6, 13 childbirths; I don’t believe birth is ever “typical.” Perhaps “routine,” from a medical standpoint, but to a mother? Never.

Our little Teething Tyrant generally sleeps through the night, but for the past two nights, he has woken us at 4am. This wouldn’t be an issue, if not for the fact that my alarm generally goes off at 4:15 (with room for 3 smacks of the snooze button), Those last 15-29 minutes of sleep are my favorite, and losing them to a sad baby is…Well, it just stinks. Yesterday, I tried comforting him in between hastily throwing on my work clothes and running a comb through my mop of hair; I finally had to give up and wake up Daddy, so that I wasn’t late for work. This morning, I stumbled into his room; David actually woke up on his own and took over, telling me I could have my beautiful last 15 minutes of sleep.

I love that man.

I didn’t fall back asleep.

Instead, I listened to a father comfort his son. I’m pretty sure I heard the rocking chair (Old Faithful!)…a few softly-spoken words…maybe it’s just the smell of the one you love, holding you tight…Within a few minutes, he was back to sleep, and David was back in bed with me.  I took advantage of the few minutes I had left, and snuggled in next to him, myself.  Jericho’s on to something, there…there IS something wonderful about the smell of someone you love, holding you tight…

It’s the simple moments in life that mean the most. We’ve all heard it before—but think about your fondest memories. Sure, I have wonderful memories of amazing vacations with my family, but it’s not the location that made the impact: It’s the love. It’s sitting around a table and laughing at the fact that your mom just got presented with the biggest crawfish in history, on a plate of etouffee. It’s memories of washing dishes with my sister while my single mother sang Larry Gatlin songs about Mogen David. It’s learning to put brakes on my car with my dad, and laughing because I’ve somehow got grease on my forehead.

It’s snuggling into the shoulder of the man you’ve spent the last 13 years with, side-by-side, and still finding that he’s everything you’ve ever wanted…It’s the old t-shirt, sheets-are-a-mess, can’t-find-my-glasses kind of morning that you don’t want to end…It’s no alarm clock, because you know your son will wake you up at 6:30 (on most days) with coos and laughs over the baby monitor. 

It’s sitting on the couch, laughing over The Office, because you both have coworkers that match the characters on the show…

It’s BBQ on a Sunday afternoon…it’s ice cream on a Saturday night.  It’s “hey, I’ll take the baby so you can get 15 minutes more of sleep.” 

Time flies, and I find myself realizing the impact of the Simple Things…I find myself asking God to make the impressions…don’t let me forget…don’t let me ever take it for granted.  I love the developments Jericho is making; I love to watch him learn, walk, run, climb…I wish I could press “pause” and watch him for an extra hour every day. Slow down, little guy…Mommy wants to snuggle you a while longer…

Simple things…The Very Best Things…

9 ½ years ago, I married the Love of my Life (where it all began)…Although it seems like a lifetime ago, it also seems like yesterday…moments like remembering his expression when I started to walk down the aisle...finding out David forgot his vows…laughing about my Dad forgetting to have people sit down for the ceremony…that feeling of utter and complete panic before I left the Ready Room…and of singing “Bootylicious” with my bridesmaids before the ceremony in the Ready Room, not realizing that the ENTIRE congregation could hear us…(that STILL makes me crack up!)…

Realizing after the wedding that I’d done it…I’d made the greatest commitment of my life, and there was no changing my mind now…and realizing that was okay with me.

I find myself taking pictures almost non-stop, because I can’t get over how fast life changes…David is the photographer, but he’s taught me to capture memories…I can’t get over how the time is moving. 18 months—really?!?

It seems like yesterday.

Two people…two babies…a dog, a small house in the country…jobs, basic cars... a mortgage, some debt…Nothing fancy…

Everything I could ever want…

We’ve had our mountains and our deep valleys, but God has carried us through…We don’t have much, but we have so much that can’t be seen…

And I am so

Incredibly

Thankful…

Valentine's Day, Black Holes, MILs, Sublime, & The Doggy Dance of #Random

I woke up this morning with no idea of what day it was. In fact, I thought my alarm had gone off in error, and I was ready to turn it off. I realized, Hey! No, you dork! It’s FRIDAY! You have to go to work!!!!  I slept like I was drugged last night (I swear, I didn’t take anything—not even a glass of wine…hey, wine sounds good!). I was SO out of it, that when I “fixed” my hair (this involves me sticking my head under the sink; giving it a towel-dry; adding copious amounts of a leave-in conditioner; somehow combing the tangles out with the ONLY comb that doesn’t break when it attacks my hair; and leaving), I think I stayed under the faucet for like, 5 solid minutes under cold water. I have no explanation for why I’m suddenly so hard to wake up today. …

Okay, maybe I do…

Little guy is at my parents’ house for the weekend (David’s mother is having major surgery today, and he also planned some sort of Valentine’s surprise for me—what is THAT?!?!?, and I have a doctor’s appointment on Monday; plus, there’s a church dinner, a surprise party—shoot, it’s just a crazy weekend), so I didn’t sleep as lightly as I’ve trained myself to do (there’s no training—it’s called “motherhood,” and it comes naturally…along with eyes in the back of my head). I slept like pre-baby Cassidy, and although it felt like something was off, it still felt awesome.

I didn’t dream…didn’t think…I just slept like the dead (notice I didn’t say, “slept like a BABY?” Yeah, THAT is a misnomer). I was out cold, and I can’t remember the last time I woke up this discombobulated. (I love that I spelled that word correctly, without the use of Spell-Check. Score!)

(As I’m typing this, I’m not editing it—thus, the copious usage of parenthesis. Consider this a live version of my ADD.)

So, I pop on PandoraOne, and it starts me out with “Santeria” by Sublime. Call me a ‘90’s throwback if you will; I love this band. No one sounds like Sublime (sorry, 311). Gritty, bouncy, danceable, rebellious, bob-your-head, rawk-fist music that makes you want to do your best to “sing” along…except, you just can’t, because most of their subject matter is simply awful. I still like them, and to me, it’s a good start to the soundtrack of the day.  Having the morning to myself leads to awesome opportunities to sing loudly and badly, and I did just that, while making my coffee.

Speaking of coffee, David and I are on a fitness plan to lose some weight. Coffee, sadly, is not on that plan; though I gave it up cleanly my first week, it has worked its evil way back into my life. I’m drinking less of it, but after reading that my go-to Starbucks venti Pike’s Place with Classic Sweetness has like, 400 calories, I’m going to have to give it up again. Boo. When I wait until I’m at work to make my coffee, my machine only makes 12 oz. at the most, so that’s a guaranteed decrease from my usual 24 oz. I can work with that.

Anyway, it’s a short day for me at the office, followed by a trip to the hospital to be there for David’s family. My MIL has had bad health for a few years now; evidently, before I met my husband, she was an active, busy woman. I’ve only known her as someone who is disabled. She has severe osteoporosis, epilepsy, and diabetes with complications, so I’ve never seen her on a day without pain. She’s spent the past year in a major back brace, and this surgery, though awful, will hopefully correct her issues. She’s facing a very, very long recovery, and could definitely use your prayers. As any daughter-in-law, I’m not entirely convinced that my MIL likes me…after all, I “stole” her baby boy (actually, HE stole ME—just ask my daddy). She’s a simple woman, and a helluva cook! I’ve also very rarely heard her say anything negative about anyone, and in her own way, she reminds me of my Grandma Myers (really, there’s no higher compliment I could pay anyone). She’s old-school, loves Jesus, and has a serious obsession with making jewelry and knitting. She’ll be making buckets of things while she’s in rehab!

Last night, I called her to give her some moral support before her surgery. Just a tip, people: if you know someone who is going in for major surgery, DO NOT TELL THEM ALL OF YOUR MACABRE HORROR STORIES ABOUT OTHERS WHO HAVE HAD THE SAME SURGERY WITH COMPLICATIONS! My poor MIL has had to hear about others’ surgeries and complications for weeks; she says she’s not afraid, but I can hear it in her voice. Ridiculous—I’d like to smack a few of her so-called “friends.” Stupid people—I think they got their Encouragement Lessons from Oscar the Grouch.

In the course of our conversation, we talked about my Hannah-girl. Gosh, I miss that baby girl…and no, my son does NOT fill the void. Not only is that impossible; it’s ridiculous to assume or to put that pressure on him. He is his own blessing, and was not born to take the place of another. He’s created his own beautiful place in my heart. Hannah’s place in my heart will continue to be hers, forever. My MIL has her own understanding about this, and in her simplicity, she manages to say exactly how I feel. Down-home people have no room for rhetoric. They just give you truth, and I love that about her. She’s kind, but she’s honest, and when she says something about Hannah, I listen. With JD being gone this weekend, she understands how I feel like the house is a black hole. She doesn’t tell me I’m being ridiculous. She told me about how it must be, to see JD go through these milestones (he’s standing!), and realizing how I’d never see Hannah do those same things. She’s right—I don’t talk about it much, because I don’t know too many people that I can be candid with about it. She picked up on it, and I have to appreciate that compassion. She nailed it. I don’t always like what she has to say, but I know her heart is good, and I’m thankful to have her in my life. I wish she wasn’t in pain all of the time…

It’s a busy weekend. I really don’t think anyone is happier about this weekend, than Holly-dog. She didn’t seem too sad to see the Tiny Human packed off to Grammy’s. In fact, after I finished soaking in the tub (45 MINUTES!!!) I came downstairs to see my StinkyPete (one of Holly’s 50 nicknames) in MY spot on the couch. Something tells me she’s doing a little Doggy-Dance with Daddy this morning while he gets ready for work.

I hope you have a lovely Valentine’s Day…I thought about getting fixed up for work today, but then was like, “stop bein’ crazy!” I’m not fooling with that nonsense (although I DID wear red). I’ll have some time to get my pretty on after work (for my romantic trip to the hospital). If you’re single, hey—it’s Friday night. Get yourself a pizza and a glass of wine, and celebrate the fact that you can order whatever toppings you like (unlike those of us that are forced to deal with SAUSAGE ON OUR PIZZA-bleh!). Valentine’s Day is NOT a big deal for me (although my Mommy DID get me some lovely, cuddly jammies, so I DID get a nice Valentine), and I think it’s highly over-rated. Married, single, or living-in-sin—whatever you’re doing (it’s between you and God)—I hope you have a wonderful Valentine’s Day. Remember that God is Love, and we’re supposed to be like Him. Be Love Personified today.

The Death of the Stepford Blog...

The other day, I was sitting at a Starbucks with a friend of mine, engaging in a lot of pointless conversation. We were having such a fantastic, fun time; we caught up on each other’s lives; we laughed about the silliness of our friends and family; and we talked about what was going on in our churches.

It was such a light-hearted conversation! In the middle of it, I stopped and took note: The two of us had been through some significant challenges in our lives. We’ve had many conversations that were heavy and tear-filled. We’ve prayed together, cried together, and held out hope for many wonderful things that have come to pass (and are coming to pass), and she truly is one of my greatest friends. I cherish her friendship more than she knows.

This conversation was one of the reasons why: Even in the midst of issues we’re both dealing with, we still found time to laugh about random people in the parking lot at Starbucks.

At one point, the conversation turned to writing. I love to write. I haven’t blogged in forever; I told her it was because I was “happy.” I’ve always thought I wrote my best stuff when I was struggling, or drowning. Writing has always challenged me to find my anchor, and to look up. It’s a way I refocus. My friend, however, writes every single day. She journals faithfully, and I was challenged. How can I call myself a writer, if I hide my “happy?” Doesn’t every emotion deserve to be explored? Shouldn’t I celebrate the mountains along with the valleys?

Then I thought about “what does my ‘happy’ look like on paper?” Is it as deep as my ‘struggle?’ Do I feel like it can touch as many lives? Is there a point in writing my random rants at Starbucks?”

Hmmm….

I’m not intentionally funny. I don’t set out to write things that make people laugh, yet I hear “you’re so funny on Facebook!” all the time. I truly wonder what people are laughing at?!?  But, I’m glad they’re enjoying it…

I have gotten back into a habit of filtering what I write just a little too much. I’ve gotten a little bit canned, and a little too conservative. I think I’m going Stepford, and I don’t like it. Maybe it’s because my mother is on Facebook, and I’m afraid of what she’ll say? Maybe it’s because my church friends are on Facebook, and I’ll have to face them on Sunday morning?I don’t know…and you know what? I don’t care.

I’m going to write my thoughts, rants, and possibly offensive blogs. I’m going to write, because the mountains, valleys, and pratfalls all deserve their story. If you find it funny, great. If you find it offensive, I’m sorry. Actually, I’m not. Go read something else. There are plenty of people on Facebook that post things that I find absolutely ridiculous. If I have to read one more post about pseudo-injustice, I’m going to hurl. There are TRUE injustices in this world that deserve our attention, yet people want to stand on soapboxes for the DUMBEST subjects EVER.

My only soapbox is Jesus. That’s it. This is my blog-I’m going to stop being afraid of politics.  I’m going to stop being afraid to say when something has truly angered me, or when I find something truly ridiculous.

The gloves are off—it’s time to get real. This literary Stepford wife has just been shot in the head.

Welcome to my blog.

Day 6: Write 30 Interesting Facts About Yourself

30 interesting things about me?!?!?  What the heck? I'm kinda boring. Okay, but this will be SO random, and potentially self-incriminating:
1. I don't tolerate alcohol well. Seriously--I'm a cheap date. I usually save the glass of wine for home.
2. If I miss my cup of coffee in the morning, heads will roll. Usually my husbands. Me - Coffee = Trainwreck. I tried to give it up during my pregnancy, but I kinda failed. Half-caff was a good change, but I'm back, baby!
3. Although I will periodically gain and lose, I've pretty much been the same size since college. Kinda frustrating, but I guess it's kinda good...I mean, at least I'm not twice the size I was in college, right? I'd like to get back to my high school weight...but who wouldn't?
4.  I really, really like wheeling and dealing online. Resale sites on Facebook are my new thing, but at least once a year, if I have the time, I will overhaul my closet and make a killing on eBay. And no, I WILL NOT SELL THINGS FOR YOU. That's my solemn vow to myself. I've tried it before, and it just ends up in hurt feelings. I barely sell things for my husband.
5. If I could get a publishing deal, I'd love to spend my life writing books or novels...but my first love is children's books. I have some brilliant (IMHO) ideas for stories that I can't wait to tell JD.
6. I really, really miss singing. I don't ever want to headline, but I'd love doing BGVs for someone. Dream act: Jewel, hands down. Or Sarah Mac. I do not, however, want to be a BGVist who has to manage choreography. The Dap Kings can have all of that they want; it's not for me.
7. I'd someday like to try my hand at being a professional product reviewer. I actually think it'd be a perfect fit; I like stuff, and I like to write. However, I have no idea how to get into that field.
8.  I am a die-hard 7-day Creationist. It's non-negotiable, and no, it isn't because my Sunday School teacher made me that way. It's because I've done the research, attended the seminars, read the books (it's been a while, though), and formed my own opinion. I will not argue or debate this with anyone; you're all entitled to your beliefs. I will never call evolution OR Creation a "Fact;" scientifically, it's all a theory, which is why I believe BOTH should be taught in schools. I've studied 4 major theories of theistic evolution, along with evolution, and 7-day Creation. I stand with the 7-dayers--it's what I believe, and I'm entitled to it.
9. I stick my feet in my mouth a lot. Figuratively, of course--have you seen me?!? I could never be that flexible.
10. I'm much braver on paper.
11. I use coffee filters to wax my eyebrows. (Is that "interesting?" Or just plain weird? It's a tip I found in Lucky magazine. Works incredibly well.)
12.  My car will hit 200,000 miles this month. I'm thinking of throwing her a party.
13.  Speaking of my car, she is indelibly a "she." I've named every car I've ever owned; the CooleyCamry is officially known as "Grandma Obama." I call her this, because when I got my first license plate on my "grandma" car (it's an old Toyota, and there's like, a million grandmas who drive that model), the plate started with "OBM." So, it was either "Grandma Obama" or "Oh, BM!" I've also owned "The Yeti" (Ford Tempo with broken automatics seatbelt) and "The Beast" (1979 Ford Fairmont). I will never drive another Ford product. The Camry is, hands down, the greatest car I have ever known. She was given to me, and she is my Israelite sandals.
14.  My hair is naturally curly. However, it did not become so, until I was 13. Talk about an eye-opener!!!
15.  I am, at 5'7", the tallest female in my entire family (blood family, not step). And, I'm taller than most of the guys. Mom's adopted, so I'm thinking whoever her bio-dad was, must have been tall. My sister is exactly 5', and even though she beat me up all of the time (even after I outgrew her), I didn't take advantage of my height/weights supremacy until I was 18. Then, I kicked her @$$, haha! And then...Mom kicked mine. Seriously. (Funniest story of my life. Still can't tell it without practically crying).
16.   I have loved flamingos since the 4th grade, when the two cool girls (Rachael and Jenny) liked flamingos, and I wanted to fit in. However, I realized that I really, TRULY liked the fluffy pink things, and it's been a lifelong love. They're one of the only things I can actually draw well; I drew a children's book called "Frankie the Flamingo Goes to the Chiropractor" for my old boss, and I think it rocked. (Of course I do!)
17.  Leaving my son behind every day that I go to work is not getting easier. Anyone who says it does is a filthy liar.
18.  If David would let me, I'd have at least 5 other tattoos. As it is, I have one (my late daughter's footprint), and am planning one more. If I didn't get one more, JD would grow up and be jealous.
19.  There are over 17,000 songs on my iPod. Music is my biggest addiction; I can't work without it.
20.  I grow increasingly agoraphobic as I get older, much like my mother. I don’t like crowds, and I don’t like concerts. I get invited to them all of the time, but they freak me out. Don’t touch me!!
21.  It’s pretty rare for me to drink soda. I mean, yes, I have my morning coffee…but other than that, I am one of the biggest water drinkers you will ever meet. I like water. It’s good for me, and it may be my only healthy habit. J
22.  I think pop culture is very important. Raising a child in this world requires a careful balance between insulating and alienating. I want my son to see “The Wizard of Oz,” and to know who Pink Floyd is. It doesn’t mean that I make him listen to boatloads of Led Zepplin or Jay-Z; it just means that maybe I play a snippet of them, so that he knows who those people are. Maybe I play “Lose Yourself” for him, but follow it with KJ-52. I want him to appreciate the musical genius of these artists, but to also appreciate that you can be a musical genius with a heart for God, kinda like Keegan Fowler, LOL.
23.  I absolutely cannot play an instrument, and I flunked Music Theory. Twice. This is why I say I am a singer, not a musician. There’s a huge difference. I can hear what I’m supposed to sing, but don’t tell me to sing a third. Not happening—you add numbers, and I’m confused. Totally left-brained.
24.  I don’t feel 35. I’ve never felt my age. I think I still feel 27, and perhaps, I still look it. You can only see my wrinkles when I’m totally exhausted, so I’m hanging on…Thanks, Mom!
25.  My most favorite TV show of all time is “Alias.” Sydney Bristow is my homegirl. Favorite movie: “The Princess Bride,” naturally.
26. When David and I got married, we danced to “A Moment Like This,” by Kelly Clarkson. Not because we liked the song—it was unspeakably cheesy, and we knew it. We had no idea what to dance to; David doesn’t dance, and we look ridiculous when we try. But we had only danced together one other time, to that song, so it made sense. Still can’t hear it without getting a little teary-eyed.
27.  When I was in college, I would go to 18-up clubs and dance my rear off. I’d dance on the bar, on a table, you name it; I’d hear people ask my friends, “How drunk is she?!?!” Never drunk. Stone-cold sober. I just like to dance.
28. In fact, I have never been what most people would define as “drunk.” See #1—it doesn’t take much for me to feel  a little tipsy, which is usually followed by a bit of a headache. That’s my warning, and that’s when I stop. I’ve seen too many people get drunk and hurl, which is not pretty.  My bio-dad is a full-blown, hardcore alcoholic, so I respect the stuff.
29. I have never smoked anything. Nothing—never tried, which I’m really proud of. I promised God I wouldn’t…and He gave me a vocal scholarship to college, which was astounding, because I’m not that good of a singer (mediocre at best—see #23).
30.  I am actually a brown belt in Tae Kwon Do (from age 13). I can still do a mean spinning kick. And I can deliver a knockout Right. Don’t test me, fool.

So, there you go—30 different/interesting facts about boring old me. I don’t think they were that interesting, but the challenge required it. There you go—nothing spiritual, nothing emotional, and nothing all that revolutionary….Just another day in The Random of Cassidy. J

Volunteer! Because it's a Good Thing!

I am fortunate enough to work for an employer that encourages volunteerism! Through the Employee Volunteer Program, I was able to spend a day this week, volunteering at the World Bird Sanctuary. Although I'm sure that my co-workers thought it would be a day of petting vultures and cuddling chickens, they couldn't be more wrong!
The day was, in a word, exhausting. This little office girl was not prepared for the amount of sheer physicality that these employees go through on a daily basis. A tremendous amount of food preparation and cleaning goes on every day, that the public has no concept of! Crates had to be cleaned, floors had to be swept and mopped, produce had to be chopped, and most exciting of all: Rats and mice had to be gutted and skinned (What, eagles don't eat broccoli?!?!?). My sister has worked for this organization for years, and I've been attending events there for at least a decade; this was the first time I have ever volunteered. I walked away with an entirely new appreciation for the love and care these staff members give these beautiful creatures. I strongly encourage everyone to take a day to volunteer at a non-profit organization, and if you do, please consider WBS! They would certainly appreciate an extra set of hands...And how many people can say, at the end of the day, that an armadillo licked their feet? Imagine the stories you could tell your friends!!! 

Billie Baumann (sister) and I, with Sanibel the Bald Eagle.

Cathy Spahn and Rustle the Armadillo

There’s an armadillo licking my feet! (Rustle)

Preparing flier food (rats and mice) with Trina

Feeding a fruit bat by hand!  He kept reaching out with the claws on the ends of his wing!

Sweeping out the kitchen

Big Bad Bertha the Kestrel