Bobbling Along the Bottom of the Beautiful Briny Sea, Part 2

    

  Today my husband called me outside.  I walked outside to find him working on our truck camper. He is doing some routine maintenance. The camper brought back some memories about a vacation that we took last year. First let us go back to the previous story I started.

Okay so I had a miscarriage. We did that. We worked through that or so I thought. I lost the baby but three months later, I or I mean "we" successfully got pregnant again. That time my labs regarding my thyroid stayed within optimal ranges. Unlike the previous pregnancy where I had felt awful. This time around I was feeling fantastic. I had energy. I was not on bed rest and emotionally I felt happy. We were plugging along through life and we were full of joy. We were planning for the arrival of our new baby. 

       Getting pregnant again and right away really helped to take the focus off the child we lost. However November 23rd hit. It was the day the previous baby was supposed to be born. I cried. I lost it. It was like dealing with the death all over again. That is nothing anyone prepares for you. People say miscarriage happens and then that's it. There is no talking about it. NO mention of what a woman should expect or not expect. No one tells you it is okay to grieve or to feel sadness about the loss. I did and it was like the flood gates all came gushing in on my soul. 

       My poor husband. Bless him. He felt helpless and had no clue what to do about how I felt. He wanted to help so he kept doing odd things as an attempt to "fix it" which only made me more emotional. I probably yelled at him. I might have even told him to take the ice cream cone that he had just bought me and I told him where to stick it. At some point he thought getting me some ice cream while telling me "you don't look fat despite being pregnant' was a sure fire remedy. The poor man kept getting blasted with every emotion I carried. He loves me. He has wide shoulders and deep down I knew he did not deserve having all my emotions dumped upon him. 

      Three days went by and finally a light bulb clicked. He suddenly remembered all the times we discussed going on a vacation. We dreamed about far off places and where we would love to go someday. Numerous conversations all rounded back to the beach and lighthouses while camping out in the wilderness. Surely somehow that was the cure all. He called into work and planned weeks out in advance. He had a plan.

      In the meantime I got over myself. It took a week of barely doing house work and reading a lot of books and then I pulled myself together. In other words, I sat around; A LOT. I accepted the loss and realized life had to push forward. I had two children plus a third on the way and they still needed me. Little be known to me that my husband was carrying on this grand scheme. It took him some time to plan and prepare. Then life rolled into late April.Now mind you I was suppose to deliver the current baby around the end of July. Lovely. Just grand. Perfect timing for an uncomfortable prego lady. 

       Then it happened. In April one day my husband spilled the beans with his eyes smiling that we were leaving. He was taking me on a vacation. He wanted to make his wife happy. I was flabbergasted knowing how close it was to my due date. Like most women, I always fear. I thought about what if I went into labor early or what if we got stranded out and the worst happens. Given I had just seen the doctor and my body was not showing any signs of a baby coming. They had suspected she would come late and we were looking at the baby arriving in August. That alone was enough reassurance my husband needed that I could and would be leaving. 

       There we were with our bags packed and walking out the door. Then I saw it. There sat his old 99 Chevy diesel truck running. Apparently this was my chariot in waiting. However this ride is a beast. He has always been so savvy about wisely spending money that he takes great pride in this truck. It is bought and paid for. We carry no loan and if it breaks it’s a quick zip zip and off she goes. 

        However let me break this truck down for you so you can picture it. I won’t post pictures because I would rather you envision this beast. It is dark grey except for the two doors that are black. Yes they are painted differently because the two matching doors that he paid the local high school's technical shop boys to paint happens to still be sitting in our barn. He has not had the time to install them so he at some point picked up some temporary replacement doors. He drug me on that adventure. We visited a junkyard and drug those jalopies straight out of the back 40 with our own tools in hand. Anyhow here we were. We have this truck with two differently colored doors and a rusted bed followed up by lots of rumbling. These doors are not the exact same model for the truck which has caused some issues. 1) The driver door only opens from the outside. 2) The passenger side window does not open. Therefore try sitting in the passenger side during a hot summer day with no breeze. I guarantee that'll force you to apply more deodorant. 3) There is no air conditioning. The truck is better suited to head up the local chicken BBQ. The chickens can roast right there on the seat. 

         This beast was our ride for a vacation. Oh lovely I thought. With its huge wheels and bouncing around I figured my huge pregnant belly was bound to go into labor. I kept quiet and refused to mouth a word knowing how much twinkling was going on in Rodney's eyes. I needed to amuse him and just go along. So I did. 

      Literally ten minutes into the ride my curiosity got the best of me. 

"Rodney, where are we going?"  

"To the beach to go camping." He replied

Oh shoot. I am about to die. Here I am fully pregnant and this man wants us to go camping. I looked around. I took a good look. 

"Rodney do we have a tent?" 

"Nope." He said calmly while staring straight forward. 

"Um Rodney. (While trying to not lose my temper.) How are we supposed to camp?! Maybe we should really consider a hotel." 

"No we are camping. Do not worry. I have this all figured out." He stated. 

My mind exploded but I kept quiet. I sat for two hours quiet. I thought. I stressed and really questioned who I married. I played out a million scenarios about being in isolation in some freakin woods with bears all coming in with snarling teeth. They would all be ready to eat my children after gobbling up our hot dogs. I wanted to open the stupid trucks door and jump out and escape this crazy train. I was so done.  

Night hit and the later it got the higher we climbed. Rodney was taking a winding road uphill that led us into the mountains. Mind you it was getting close to summer. The higher we climbed the mountain the colder it became until we literally saw snow on the tops of the trees. 

Like typical Rodney and his antics. He had a plan. He had found a guy selling a truck camper out in Tim buck two. It was a real steal of a deal. It had been used as a guy’s hunting shack and he was hard up for cash and needed to make a quick sell. Given the camper was so far out, no one was willing to pounce on said deal. Except Rodney. Except my knight in shining armor. He was on a mission to make his wife happy and keep the expense low. 

How I envisioned us looking

     It was nearly night fall and here we found this guy’s house. The camper turned into the most bizarre experience. We must have sat and chatted with the guy for hours. He was heading out on some missions trip. He was currently living with his brother and the two of them were renovating an old Gothic style house for their parents. He had stories upon stories so he and Rodney carried on about life and renovations. I had to interrupt and finally remind my husband of our plans and that the girls and I were starving. 

By 11 pm after the GPS quit working and we took a wrong turn, we sputtered into a gas station. The truck was nearly out of gas. The station was complete with a subway and despite closing down the dear ladies must have sensed my desperation while lugging around a very large belly. They had handed me two free subs. I was so hungry that anything sounded like meal fit for a Queen.

      As we sat in the parking lot and ate our subs we witnessed the gas station close down and the lights all flickered off. We were miles from any major town and the streets to the left and to the right were all vacant. It was desolate. It was creepy and it was our cue to head out. Rodney turned the key. Nothing. He turned the key again. Nothing. Right there and in that moment I was not feeling the whole "let me make my wife happy?" I was ready to scream. 

      Nowhere. Nowhere is a scary place when you have no idea where you are or where the nearest highway is. Nowhere is a scary place when you're pregnant and have two small children in your care. Secretly you just gobbled down their left over portions of subway. You know deep down there is no food to ration out if the little's get hungry again in the next 20 minutes. We were in a sorry state.

       Luckily Rodney was out under the front of the truck. He was not around for me to strangle. I heard him monkeying around and then back in he rolled with a gleam in his eye and a turn of the key. Sure enough the beast rumbled again. I won't pretend to know diesels because I literally have very little clue besides what he tells me. Apparently some box ...some control module or along those lines came loose. He knew the box and its tendency to come loose so he banged it around or so it sounded and sure enough we were back in business. Major creepy situation diverted. 

        We ended back up on a major highway. By this point Rodney was worn out. It must have been all the talking about renovations and him loading up the camper that did him in because he asked me to drive. I stay up late. It is my nature and so driving sounded way better than sitting and staring out into the darkness. We switched and an hour in he was snoring LOUDLY and very peacefully stretched out next to me. I secretly envied him. I can hardly remember a time I could sleep in a vehicle. 

        It did not take long and something major went wrong. I was driving smoothly down the freeway only the truck cut out. Semi-trucks were the only other visible vehicles and like normal they go barreling down the highway faster than the posted speed limits especially at that hour. Here I sat barely punching over 40 mph with a semi flying up my rear and no matter how much I pushed the peddle the truck sputtered and sputtered.

I felt as if every negative energy in the universe was barreling down on my life. I wanted to reach over and elbow Rodney awake. A vacation now of all times was NOT making for a happy wife nor fixing any of the sadness I felt months earlier.  Of course the truck jacked up with me behind the wheel. Unlike him I cannot monkey around until something works. 

       I did what I could do. I prayed. I took a deep breath and asked for a sense of peace and protection. I asked for the trip to go on without any major issues. I asked that we could get there and get home safely with the truck running. I have always felt that God must sit up there with a super funny sense of humor. I have learned to be extremely careful about what I pray. Prayers require detail and clarity. 
      He answered. He got us there and God sure got us home but the whole trip meant we could only drive a maximum of 40 mph. The truck bogged down whenever we drove uphill. It was like the famous children's book about the train. The whole time we chanted, "I think I can. I think I can." I bet God sat upstairs laughing about how I forgot to pray for the trucks problem to get fixed. We had fixed two truck parts along the way and each time the truck would improve and run smoother. Then after an hour or two it acted up again. It was scary but I learned to stay calm. I accepted that it was out of my control so I lived in the moment. 

        After we had arrived we made a quick stop at the local Walmart for supplies. We had scrubbed down our camper with bleach and Lysol. We stocked the fridge with all the essentials in our recently bought truck camper. Everything worked and it even came equipped with a stove. I was tickled to death. We had hot dogs, graham crackers, chocolate bars and cherry pie filling. We ate and ate some more. We had made all the typical foods out over a camp fire and sat around it every night as a family. We shared. We laughed. We stayed up late and we slept in every morning.

    Numerous mornings we all woke up to the sound of rain pinging off the top of our metal roof. Despite being awake we all sat there comfy and snuggled up together. It was as if we all sensed the moment and wished it would never end. 

     The whole trip despite the scares actually ended up being a wonderful adventure.

My mind is filled full of many happy memories verses just the thoughts about our beastly truck with it sputtering along. Looking back I could care less about the different colored doors. My heart was full when we left Assateague Island. The place was amazing and I loved seeing the horses roaming wild and free. I am beyond thankful for my husband and his constant efforts to make me happy. That trip and his efforts were a job well done.

I highly encourage everyone to go check out the state park.

Here is the link, https://www.nps.gov/asis/index.htm

Bobbling Along the Bottom of the Beautiful Briny Sea

    There is a huge part of me that wishes my life was way less complicated but then I look back at all the adventures and laugh. I shake my head frequently wondering how in the heck I or those around me managed to survive. Today was an adventure all in its own right because of the few aspects of today that forced me to reflect on my life around this time last year. It all swirls around a loud obnoxious truck that I hate with every fiber in my being and a small tan camper with the main character thrown into the story, my dear husband. I will break the story up into two parts. First I need to discuss some history so you understand how this ties into the multicolored truck and a small tan camper.

Do not let the black and white filter fool you. It is to hide the multi-colored truck and the small camper.

    Close to this time last year, I was pregnant. I felt as if nearly on the verge of going into labor. It had been like my last two successful pregnancies where I felt amazing. One pregnancy prior was not full of lollipops and pony rides. I suffered with the misfortune of a miscarriage. You know, the death of child. The dreadful event that most are unable to talk about or if they do, people give a super insensitive response.  My miscarriage was related to an imbalance of my hormone levels. I joyfully deal with Graves Disease. A thyroid issue that the doctors diagnosed me with back in 2010 or maybe it was 2011 but regardless, the diagnoses was a game changer. I will never forget the two year battle of walking in and out of the hospital and/ or doctors offices where it always felt like the same song and dance. I was 22 in the beginning. I was young, much more youthful with a materialistic attitude and the added bonus of being skinny. My youth and looks must have somehow led the medical staff to dismiss all of my complaints and symptoms.
           I remember one particular visit to the hospital. It had been the third trip that month. All the same complaints of feeling like I had just finished running a race.Only I truly hate to run nor have any desire to burn off all my fat.  I was eating three times the amount of my husband and yet I lost 30 lbs in 6 weeks. It sounds fantastic but it was not. I was so hyped up I could hear my heart pounding in my head when I sat down. Yet the doctor suggested I go home. I needed to take Advil because no girl my age could possibly feel as awful as I did. As I walked out the door feeling frustrated, I overheard the doctor pull my husband off to the side and insinuate that I was only a drug seeker and my symptoms were not real.

         Weeks later I collapsed while walking down the hall of the hospital. My heart rate had been measured at around 180 and my blood pressure was 200 and something with the bottom number over a hundred. My heart was beating too incredibly fast. Numerous trips in and out of the doctor offices and test after test led me down a very amazing path. I say amazing because it ripped a very materialistic attitude right out from deep inside of me. I was forced to think about life and at times feared  whether I would be alive to watch my daughter grow up.
         The funny part about that time in my life is that I will never forget the day I was diagnosed. Now, please do not get me wrong. I love doctors and respect them. However I feel that some are so book smart and so career focused that they forget one major component of life. Compassion! They forget that people are in fact, people. With that being said, the doctor who diagnosed me was in fact one of those doctors. We had dealt with him on numerous occasions. He waltzed right up in our tiny white walled room fit for a crazy person. As if having the time of his life, he announced that one of the tests came back positive. It meant I had a thyroid disease. He went straight into how studies show 3 out of 5 people diagnosed with a chronic disease end up with their marriage ending in a divorce. Wow! Nothing like going straight for the jugular. In a whooping 5 minute time window the doctor not only diagnosed someone with a disease that uses a word eerily familiar to gravestones, death and the end of your life plus he managed to dish out an added bonus. He informed me that my husband will leave me. Super awesome sauce!!!! Now the story gets fun.

      My husband is so chill about anything and everything. It is difficult at times to read his emotions. He is Dutch and apparently his demeanor is a typical characteristic for the Dutch. I have learned over the years that he smiles with his eyes. Unlike me his smile never hides his whole face nor does it force his eyes to close. Whether it rains or snows he stays right on keeping on with that same super chill attitude. On this particular moment I saw that twinkle in his eye. I knew he had an ace up his sleeve but I was too shocked to care. He rustled ever so slightly in his chair while leaning forward with his hands rested on his knees. His head was very controlled as he raised slightly. He looked at the doctor and interrupted his routine speech he had probably given to a thousand other patients.

My husband cleared his throat and stated, " I have one question. Is there lemon laws?" 

The doctor was obviously rattled, confused and barely made clear speech. "um, excuse me? I am trying to explain to you your wife's condition and what you can expect." 

Rodney spoke again. "I know. I understand but are there lemon laws for wives? I am asking because my wife is obviously broken and we've been married only a short time. Are there any laws that state I can return her. You know, like with a brand new car?"

     That's my husband.He successfully succeeded in breaking the tension and easing my stress levels. He is a noob but he is my noob.

    Read Part 2 for the rest of the story about how my husbands need to improve my spirits led into a grand adventure during a vacation that included snow covered mountains followed by the sandy beaches where the wild mustangs roam. 

It could ALWAYS be worse

                                                                                    

     

        


      Today. It was pure hell. Often all it takes is a change of perspective to take a negative moment and turn it into a positive experience.
        My husband and I were charging forward with the restoration of the hardwood floors in the bedroom we are currently working on. The process has been long and we have spent many nights with little sleep in order to make progress while the children sleep. Recently we finished the floors. They look gorgeous and I could not be more proud. Finally we saw light at the end of the tunnel. One major milestone has been accomplished. My husband turned to me the following night while we admired our work and stated, "I should have this all done in two weeks." Whoo woo I thought to myself. It has already taken months just getting to this point. However a small part of me had doubts. I took a mental assessment of the room only to realize the walls all still need another coat of paint to cover the splattered stain on the walls. A window plus a closet still need trim. The baseboard needs to be cut, installed, and primed. Once the trim gets a coat of prime, it still needs to be painted.

            Have you ever had "one of those days or weeks?" You know the kind where you go into survival mode and just keeping chugging along but everything on the inside wants TO SCREAM OUT AND USE SOME PROFANITIES?!!!! It is like taking a bucket of water and at different moments the stress is equivalent to adding more water to the bucket. The bucket keeps filling up until it gets so full it all has to come pouring out. The bucket is at its max level and cannot possibly take anymore.

         Many people know our situation with our house and the current state of repair. So often I have heard the statement, "Gosh I don't know how you do it." To be honest, I do not. I do not cope well on any level. What people typically see is my happy go lucky attitude followed by a huge smile that forces my eyes to close. On numerous occasions that smile has caused several photographers to ask me to smile less in order to keep my face visible for pictures. However my husband, the man who spends the most time with me in a private setting is fully aware that that smile fades. There are sad days. There are days where the bucket spills over and I say things I regret. I struggle to cope and feel my shoulders cannot possibly take one more day of trying to accept that better days are coming. My outlook on life and my most used phrase is, "it could always be worse." I truthfully believe that however I am still human and stress is a major Debbie downer for my life when it accumulates.


      Here we are three weeks later. Not one more thing has been completed in the bedroom. There the room still sits with gorgeous wood floors I am forced to walk by daily. The floors do look wonderful yet the room is bare. I still see unfinished projects and it has become a thorn in my flesh. I keep thinking about how we are going into living in this house for the second year. Given a lot has been done but not one room has been completed in its entirety. I cannot decorate and all of my photos and decorations all sit throughout our house or in our attic. It is beyond frustrating. We are unable to have people over to visit and our house is not a place for birthday celebrations or for a chat. It is dusty. I currently have a table saw sitting in what should be our living room. On top of that, I have major OCD about clutter and cleanliness. Here and in this state, cleaning my house only goes so far. Maybe others would not see the dirt in the cracks from where one floor ends and another floor begins but I do. I know it exists and it eats away at me.

       Then to make matters worse my three girls have all been sick for the last two days. There has been a lack of sleep along with days full of shrieking, crying and just down right poor decision making.  There is the child who recently discovered how to take her diaper off. She seems quite proud of herself and so were we. Each time she would smile big and clap for herself along with the expectation that we should clap as well. We did, except now I regret that encouragement. Today she took her diaper off. It was followed by her peeing all over herself and my floor. It scared her half to death so she tried running away from the liquid flowing down her leg. Her lack of coordination caused her to slip and fall flat on her back in a puddle of pee. It was a mess. Life did not stop. My other daughter at some point throughout the day decided today of all days was a great day to bring her chicken inside the house. I heard the clucking noises from upstairs. I went to investigate only to find a rouge chicken without anyone around. I discovered my daughter quietly playing with Legos and apparently forgetful to the fact that she had brought "Rosie" indoors. It did not stop there. Rosie pooped on our kitchen floor. My daughter thought using her hand to clean up Rosie’s poop followed by wiping it off on her shirt was the perfect remedy. By that point, I wanted to throw in the towel and call it a day.

      A huge part of me wanted to quit but I am a parent that cares a whole awful lot. I forced myself to apologize to my girls for a lack of patience and for the things I regretted saying throughout the day.  While doing so, my daughter spoke up and told me, "Mom, it's like you tell us. This doesn't change anything. We still love you to the moon." Boom! There in that moment I discovered grace from the heart of a child. It was powerful and inspiring.
   
        I know that my three little's depend on me. I am part of their whole world. They look to me for encouragement, love and support and that fact is the reason why I don't lock myself in a room and give up. We might have taken the easy route for the rest of the night which meant they did not get a bath or I did not whip up a home cooked meal. I may have even had a meltdown and cried feeling sorry for myself while expressing to my husband my distaste for this house and all of the unfinished projects. However I know my girls did eat even if it was chips with cheese, salsa and beans. They did put on clean pajamas to go to sleep at night with their freshly brushed teeth. If the truth be told I felt thankful that we all made it through the day safe and still alive.

        I have to constantly remind myself that even if my life may not be perfect, there are many aspects of my life that is way better than how it could be. It is a terrible fact to know that I have parents who never call to ask how I am doing. I have parents who never attended my wedding or showed up for my college graduation. Although that is nothing new, it still hurts to know that while some people grieve for their dead parents who actively played a role in their lives, I frequently grieve for parents that are alive and choose to not be a healthy or active part of our lives. My husband and I navigate through this life and journey alone. We have his mom who helps us with the children. Besides the love of our friends, we do not have a supportive family that helps regularly to pick up the slack. We do this together and as our own little family. That fact is tough to swallow at times and yet I know the blessings.
        Our children go to sleep at night with a roof over their head and their bellies full. They never have to question the devotion my husband and I have towards them. I tell them daily how much they are loved, adored and explain to them that they are valuable. I never want them to question their worth. My children will never have to figure out how to whip up Mac & Cheese to feed themselves around the age of 5 years old. I have got their back and will always be there regardless of what decision they make or do not make. I will always love them to the moon. They will never have to deal with a split home or yearn for their dad’s attention. Their dad always coaches their soccer games and he shows up to every parent teacher conference or school event regardless if he just came off of a 12 hour night shift. My husband and I do everything in our power to be good parents to our children because our past has encouraged us to be better people FOR OUR CHILDREN.
     There is so much people see, judge or question and yet people never know all those private moments. People always see how great a person’s life might be because they fail to see at what price the blessings cost. Behind closed doors those daily struggles still exist. I have to pray my heart out daily and allow myself to take times out for myself. In doing so, people outwardly see my huge smile that forces my eyes closed. By God’s grace I continue to maintain joy and a willingness to push forward daily. Despite days like today full of slippery floors of urine and poop I know that "it could always be worse".