Our Love Story: It All Comes Together

I thought at one point in my life I had a plan. I never gave too much thought to my career, hence the school I went to, the worthless degree, and the fact that I ended up as a pharmacy technician. I really just wanted to be married with children. Being a single mom at 27 and starting out in a new relationship (with someone from my past nonetheless) was the last plan I ever imagined for myself. I must say though, it truly was an incredible plan (on God’s behalf).

After our first date as adults, Jake and I soon starting seeing each other on a weekend basis. He travelled to Harrisburg a lot to see Averey and me at first, but within a couple months, Averey and I made the trip up to State College. I met his parents when we dated back in ’98, but I was a bit nervous to meet them again with a baby in tow. While I didn’t give much thought to what people thought of me being a single mom (since most everyone knew that it was not by choice) but I was still ever so slightly concerned about what they would think of me. They were kind enough to offer to watch Averey so Jake and I could go out to dinner, so I pretty much knew I had nothing to worry about.

Jake and I knew that we wanted to be together, and this time, the distance did not matter (and it helped that Averey was so portable!). He asked me to go on a cruise with him and a group of friends the following May, so hearing that in October pretty much sealed the deal that we were a couple! I couldn’t believe that we were together, and that those feelings we had as teenagers was really what Jake once described as a “connection” between the two of us. A couple months into 2007, we had the big discussion: what about Averey? Jake was fortunate enough to be in our lives and have no worries about my ex resurfacing. There was definitely a connection between Jake and Averey; in fact, she took her first steps towards him! I wasn’t sure what to expect, but he surprised me by saying that when we would get married, he would want to adopt Averey. I never even had to ask, and I thank God for that!

It didn’t take long for us to realize that one of us would have to relocate for the relationship to thrive. It didn’t take long for me to realize that it would be me. Jake grew up in State College, he’d been working at Penn State since he was 18, and his family was there. While I adored Harrisburg, my friends, and my job, there weren’t any deep roots to keep me there, nor were there any for Jake to plant. I just had no idea how I was going to find a pharmacy technician job in State College and make as much as I did in Harrisburg so that I could still take care of Averey and myself. I had been blessed with that aspect of being a single mom: I never felt that I struggled financially. Looking back, it’s quite amazing that I didn’t, but God provided. And where would I live? Would I find great in-home baby-sitters for Averey like I had in Harrisburg?

These were all questions no one could answer for me; there was just a lot of prayer involved. Before I knew it, Jake’s friends told him there was a help wanted sign at a pharmacy within a Geisinger clinic. I called the number, and they actually wanted help in the store across town. The technician position involved mixing chemo, and one of my favorite aspects of being a hospital tech was mixing IVs. Before we left for our cruise in May, I had a brief interview at the site. Within a month, the job was offered to me, and amazingly, I only had to take a 50 cent pay cut! That was the one thing I needed before I could move to State College, and I got it. A place to live fell into… well, place. Jake’s friends had a basement apartment available to rent after July. It was a lot smaller than my Harrisburg apartment, but quieter. Trying to find a cheap place to rent in State College was proving to be difficult, and so this was the best option available to us. I also found a baby-sitter for Averey.

One year from our first (second) date, in August 2007, Averey and I moved to State College. It was bittersweet, but it was a new start, and I was excited. Little did I know that when Jake and my dad took the moving truck back, Jake was asking my dad for my hand in marriage.

In October, Averey was going to fly to S. Carolina with my mom to visit my aunt. Jake and I decided to take a little road trip. I chose Niagara Falls as our destination. We spent the day walking around, enjoying the sights and each other’s company. Now this is where Jake’s version of the story and mine differ. My version is that Jake seemed to be in a slightly blah mood as the day wore on because he had a headache. His version is that I seemed like I was in a poopy mood because I was expecting a proposal, which I was NOT. Okay, so maybe a small part of me thought that could happen, but I wasn’t getting my hopes up. Either way, by the time evening rolled around, we were both tired. We headed back to the hotel. I plopped myself on the bed while he went to the bathroom. He soon plopped himself by me, told me to close my eyes, and upon opening them, saw THE RING, and he popped the question. When we say that we got engaged at Niagara Falls, people tend to think BY the falls. Not quite, but still memorable. I admired my ring the entire drive home.

Planning our wedding was a lot of fun, and we did it in 6 months! We joked that we should get married at Camp Brule, but it would be quite a hike for all of our guests. When we visited the Lodge at Tussey Mountain (coincidentally, where we had our very first State College date), we liked the rustic appeal and being able to have the ceremony (outside) and reception all in one place. It was close enough to getting married at 4-H Camp!

On April 26, 2008, nearly 14 years after we first met, we tied the knot. It was a beautiful day in spite of the forecast calling for 80% chance of rain. The sun was shining, the breeze was blowing, and blowing so much that we couldn’t get our unity candle lit. Averey was 2 years old. She was our adorable little flower girl, and my escort down the aisle. I met my dad at his seat, and he gave me away to Jake. Our ceremony was simple, and the kiss… well, that was a good one!

Jake does not enjoy being photographed (even I think he’s quite photogenic), but he was a good sport for the day. We had fun getting shots in the spring sunshine, until a huge thunderhead loomed over Beaver Stadium. Fortunately by then, we were pretty much done. We headed inside to have dinner, and then the storm unleashed its fury. We ended up with the warmest day that April (81 degrees) and the rainiest (1+ inches). The food was fantastic, and our reception was enjoyable. Jake is not much of a dancer either, but I got him on the floor for a couple minutes of fast dancing. The only dance that really mattered was our first dance. We had a couple songs in mind, but we ended up choosing “When You Say Nothing at All” by Alison Krauss. It was popular during the summer of 1995 when we liked each other, and I had confessed to my journal that was one of the songs that made me think of him. We also had our little inside joke displayed among our cupcakes. We discovered back then that Gummo and Polk could be Gumby and Pokey, so our cake "toppers" (so to speak) were Gumby and Pokey figurines. 

Our reception flew by, and then, well… the wedding night. We stayed in a hotel while my family stayed in our new house. We opened our gifts and cards Sunday afternoon, and headed to our honeymoon in the Bahamas on Monday morning. It was our moment of relaxation from the whirlwind that had taken place, and would continue to take place in 2008. We bought our house at the end of March, got married in April, Jake officially adopted Averey in August, and I got pregnant in September. Phew!

So here we are, 4 years later. We’ve had our ups and downs (which really goes without saying), and while I love looking back on our wedding day, I love how far we’ve come from that day even more. We may have had an unconventional beginning, a gap of non-communication, and started our marriage with a child, but it just makes me appreciate everything we have so much more. I am grateful to God that He blessed us with a second chance, and that His plan is bigger than any plan I’ve ever thought out for my life. Yes, I get to be a mom and wife, but getting to this point the way I did was never what I would’ve chosen for my life. But going through all the hardships I went through to get to Jake and the life we have now was more than worth it.

Our Love Story: You Don't Know What You've Got 'til It's Gone

There were a couple times in my life when I was certain that I found “The One.” It seemed to be based on how fast the relationship moved (in an emotional way), how the guy treated me (buying me gifts), and how well we got along with each other’s parents. Jake and I didn’t quite have the connection in that sense, but according to a journal entry I came across from June of 1998, I listed the pros and cons about us being together. One of the pros was, “He seems like the kind of guy I would want to marry.”

Our letter writing from the fall of ’97 through the spring of ’98 slowed a bit, and I was interested in a couple different guys during that time. As June arrived, I was ready to take a trip up to Camp Brule and visit Jake. We hung out and talked for a couple hours, and those feelings resurfaced. Within a month, we were seeing each other nearly every weekend. And after 3 years, we had our first kiss underneath the stars. Ah, a sweet moment. I made my first trip to State College, and our first date here was dinner at Pizza Hut and go-kart riding at Tussey Mountain. With nothing else in the way, our schedules coinciding, and our own vehicles, we decided to make it “official”. All went well for a bit, and then I thought perhaps the grass might be greener on the other side…

One of my BFFs entered her first semester at Lycoming College back home, and she met a new friend down the hall, who was also local. He saw my picture, thought I was attractive, and who doesn’t like a little ego boost? Upon meeting him and chatting, I felt that perhaps Jake was just too shy, the distance was too far, and I wasn’t sure I was ready to settle down at 19. My relationship with Jake wasn’t following the “pattern” that I had experienced before in my serious high school relationship, so surely there was something missing!

Telling Jake that I thought we were better off as friends was not an easy thing to do, but when he didn’t react how I expected (broken, begging, upset), then I figured perhaps he didn’t care for me as much as I had hoped. As I would learn years later, I had my mind made up—what could he possibly have said that would’ve changed it?

The next relationship I entered into fizzled out pretty quickly. While I held out an olive branch to Jake in trying to be friends, I should not have been surprised when he didn’t respond to my final letter. I effectively ruined our romantic relationship and friendship all at once. It was time to move on. I guessed it just wasn’t meant to be.

When I met someone new in early 1999, and our relationship followed the pattern I felt it should have, it seemed clear to me that he was “the one.” Two years later, we were married, and nearly four years later, I became pregnant with Averey. All seemed right in my little world, and then everything came crashing down. To make a loooooooong strange story very very short, my then-husband began cheating on me shortly before or after I took that pregnancy test. It goes without saying that a divorce was looming. But this story is not about that story.

During the summer of 2005, I spent a lot of time by myself. I delved into my journals from 10 years prior, because the summer of 1995 was truly one of the greatest summers of my life. In those journals were stories of Jake. I had always felt bad about the way I treated him, but tried to forget about him by not reading journal entries about him and getting rid of most of his letters. That summer, however, I re-read everything I had written about him and realized that I had been so foolish in not treating him the way he should have been treated. I searched for him on the internet and saw he was still working at Penn State. But what could I do? Surely my pregnancy hormones were taking over, and the fact that my husband was altogether ignoring me played a part in grasping at my past with Jake. I had moved on, and surely so did he. I just had to let it go.

After Averey’s birth, I had a lot of time to think and reflect (and deal with my crazy situation). I had known for some time that there would not be any chance of reconciliation with my husband, and having Averey confirmed that. I did not feel any attachment to him because of her, and we were starting out a new journey in life. Little did I know what path God was carving out for us.

I thought about Jake. A lot. I wrote him an apology letter just to write it, not to send it. I eventually confided into a couple of close friends about him, trying to confirm that maybe I was a crazy single mom hanging on to her past. No such luck. The first hint of things to come were 2 reconciliations of friendships that had gone by the wayside. When those friends surprisingly reached out to me, I held out hope that maybe I would be able to reach out to Jake in the same way. One of those friends was a lifelong BFF (with the exception of the 3 years we didn’t speak) who was there for the whole Jake ordeal. I confessed to her what I was thinking, and she said, “He’s not married! He still goes to 4-H Camp!” (as adult staff, of course).

After much deliberation, prayer, conversations with trusted friends, the fact that I was awarded full custody of Averey and my ex was out of the picture, I took that rough draft of an apology letter, revised it and sent it. I had no idea where he was living, but I guessed that if I sent it to the last address I knew him to live at (his parents’), that it would somehow get to him. I was at peace if I never heard from him. Sure, I would be disappointed, but I had no clue what was going on in his life. I just wanted him to know that I was sorry for the way I treated him all those years ago. Ours was the one friendship that I effectively ruined, and he at least deserved to hear (read) my apology, even if it was 8 years too late.

Opening my mailbox and seeing his familiar handwriting on an envelope over a week later sent shockwaves through my heart. As I unsealed the envelope with shaking hands and read the first few sentences, I breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn’t forgotten about me either and had often wondered about me over the years. (By the way, he had known before I had written him that I had gotten married.) Our friendship had meant something to him too. Wow.

In our next exchange (upgrading to e-mail), I told him briefly of the situation with my ex, and that I had a 5-month-old daughter. This would be the test of whether he wanted to really be in contact with me! He did. Pictures were soon to follow, and he hadn’t changed much over the years (a good thing!). After a month or so, he finally summoned up the courage to call me. Hearing his voice on the phone was even more of a blast from the past. The conversation flowed easily, and while I could tell he was still a quiet reserved guy, I felt comfortable talking to him. Our friendship was renewed. We knew we’d like to see each other again.

A month later, the plans were made. My mom was down for the weekend to watch Averey while I worked, and Jake was on his way to Harrisburg. I was a nervous wreck at work all day, and as I changed in the bathroom from my scrubs to a new outfit I had just bought (like he would’ve known any different), I swore the butterflies in my stomach were going to fly out of my mouth! We decided to meet in the parking lot of the Bass Pro Shop (how romantic) since I didn’t really want to have a reunion in front of my mother, and it was an easy landmark close to my apartment. I pulled in the parking lot and walked up to the front of the store with no Jake in sight. As I turned around to face the parking lot, there was no mistaking that it was him walking towards me. I wasn’t sure how this was going to play out, but when he opened his arms, I guessed a hug was appropriate! After a small exchange of hellos and good to see yous, I got in my car and had him follow me back to my place. He’d met my mom years ago, but the real test was meeting Averey. When he sat down on the couch, she just stared at him. He talked to her and took her little hand with his finger. No screaming—that was a good sign to me!

Our first date was mini-golfing at City Island (he still claims a hole-in-one) and dinner at Duke’s. We had no trouble making conversation, and it certainly didn’t feel like 8 years had passed at all. We went back to my place and talked until 11 when he decided to leave. One of my friends asked if I was going to kiss him. Um, no… but I wouldn’t pull away if he did. As we stood by his truck saying good-bye, he leaned in to kiss me, much to my surprise. I think I giggled like a teenage girl as I went back into my apartment. I couldn’t wait to see him again.

And thus begins part 3…

Our Love Story: The Early Years

Averey, at age 6, seems slightly curious about who she is going to marry. In her little world, there aren’t very many boys, and at this point she’s convinced it will probably be someone she already knows. I told her that she’s got a long time before she’ll meet her future husband. Jake and I have a little laugh at this, and then we remember that we first met the summer after our freshman year in high school. I was 15, and Jake was 14. Averey could potentially meet her future husband in less than 10 years. Yikes!

When people ask how we met, we usually respond the same way. We look at each other and laugh, and say, “4-H Camp.” It’s not supposed to be funny, but it’s just the beginning of our long love story. We’ve now reached the point where we can say we met over half a lifetime ago. It still makes my head spin sometimes.

I don’t exactly recall our very first meeting in June of 1994, but I do remember that Jake was hanging out with one of my BFFs, who was a big flirt. I thought Jake was cute in his Miami Dolphins hat, and so I took pictures of the two of them together. He seemed like the guys I was friends with back home, but it wasn’t until the following June that we got to know each other better.

4-H Camp started on a Saturday and we’d leave the following Wednesday, so in that short time period, friendships blossomed quickly. Jake and I were both counselors that year, it didn’t take us long to realize that there was some chemistry between us. Sunday night at our vesper service by the lake, we were sitting on his blanket, both in blah moods. My flirty BFF was mad at me because the guy she liked apparently liked me. Jake seemed to like my BFF, but she wasn’t paying him much attention. After we talked for a little bit, I realized that I liked Jake. I thought he was cute, he was nice, he was shy, and there was just something about him.

On the last night of camp, there was a closing ceremony with songs and a 4-H lit up in flames. For those of us that loved going to camp and meeting new friends, this would bring us silly teenagers to tears. Jake had asked me if I would stand by him during the ceremony, and he said he wanted to talk to me about something. I tried not to get my hopes up that it had anything to do with me. But after he talked in circles, he basically said that he liked me as more than a friend. This was music to my ears, but torture to my 16-year-old mind that it was on the last night of camp. I’d be heading back to Montoursville the next day, and him to State College. Without 4-H Camp, we might as well have been living on different planets. He said we could write letters. Before the age of instant messaging, cell phones and Skype, and neither of us having driver’s licenses (he was still 15), writing letters was the only form of communication we had that bridged that distance between us.

After camp, I looked forward to his letters, and while he wasn’t professing his undying love for me, we were developing a friendship. I did get to see him again at the end of July as I participated in 4-H State Days here at Penn State. I drove my friends crazy talking about him, not being able to wait to get to our dorm room so I could call him from the landline phone (which didn’t work, so I was in pursuit of a pay phone). He wasn’t a participant, but since he was from Centre County, he and other 4-Hers we knew from camp helped set up the evening dances. The first night at the dance, we sat and talked. I so wanted him to hold my hand, but the conversation flowed easily, which was of greater importance than I realized back then. When we drive by the parking lot where that dance occurred, to this day, I just have to smile in memory of that night.

The second night there was a different story. Jake knew that I liked him, and it was pretty obvious he liked me too since we were acting like a couple. But to my dismay, he wouldn’t ask me out. He told one of my friends that he really liked me, but we lived too far apart. WHO CARES??? I thought. I wouldn’t mind having a long-distance boyfriend! Inside, I was dying (in a dramatic-teenager sort of way), but looking back, he was really smart.

The last day of 4-H Camp 1995, my favorite pic of us from that year.

We got to see each other one more time that summer, as me and my family drove to the Grange Fair. I still didn’t have my license, and apparently I must have pleaded enough with my parents that they thought they might like to go to the Grange Fair too. I was slightly mortified that I would have to introduce Jake to my parents, but I was grateful to be able to go and see him. This time, he wasn’t quite so affectionate with me, and he did not introduce me to his parents. Alas, the shyness of his personality took over, and he just said that things were “different” being at Grange Fair, but he swore his feelings hadn’t changed. We still had a good time even though I was dramatically frustrated.

The summer came to a close and we began our junior year of high school. While we still wrote letters, I soon found that there were still other guys for me to be interested in and therefore, I still had some boy drama in my life. Jake was always in the back of my mind though.

When we saw each other again in the spring of 1996 at our camp staff weekend, he was constantly picking on me, making it oh-so-obvious he still liked me. I realized that I still liked him. But when I mentioned writing letters, he said, “Why? Camp is just a couple of months away!” Okay, thanks for the mixed messages. Too bad for him when I went to camp that I had a new boyfriend back home! Yet we were still able to be friends without any awkwardness, and the same went for State Days a month later. Our letter writing had ceased, but I was at least glad we were actually still friends.

We graduated high school in June of 1997. I was not returning to camp that year, but a friend and I went up to visit. Jake and I chatted and enjoyed each other’s company, and I soon found out that he was quite glad that I would be breaking up with my long-term boyfriend when I left for school in July (a fact I had no trouble mentioning during that visit). A couple weeks later, he wrote to me and told me that he was bummed when I didn’t go to staff weekend that year, and he was really glad to see me at camp. He confessed that he still liked me after two years and thought about me daily. Say WHAAAT??? I was thrilled to be reading those words of his, but flabbergasted nonetheless.

We saw each other a couple weeks later when he came to visit at my county fair. I was reeling from the planned break-up with my boyfriend, but the feelings for Jake were still there. We continued writing letters, but I wasn’t quite ready for another relationship. He came to visit me at school anyway, and there wasn’t any awkwardness in spending time together just as friends.

Even though I was convinced his feelings weren’t that strong, there was a time when it should have been more than obvious. I had to spend a weekend at school, and spending a weekend at my college wasn’t very exciting since most people went home. (So lame!) I wanted visitors, and Jake would have come down had his car been in commission. It ended up that one of my BFFs, my ex-boyfriend and his new girlfriend (not awkward—seriously) were headed to visit the Shippensburg campus and were going to stop at my school on the way back. That morning, Jake called and asked if I still wanted a visitor. I told him I was already having company (having him and the ex there would certainly be a little awkward), and he seemed fine with my answer. In his next letter, he confessed that when he called me, he was already in Harrisburg, just down the road from my school. SERIOUSLY!?!?! I was almost mad at him for doing that—had he told me his location, he could’ve come over for sure! He didn't seem to think it was a big deal, but for this girl, it was huge.

Stay tuned for part 2…

My Favorite Household Chore

In honor of Earth Day (or Week), I’ve decided to share the one thing I’m passionate about when it comes to being “green.” It starts with my favorite household chore: laundry. Honest! I believe it’s the one chore in this house, while never-ending, that I don’t get frustrated with after completion. Case in point: dusting. Our old house is a dust magnet. While I love it when there is abundant sunshine pouring in our windows, it makes me cringe because it’s just a reminder that no matter how many times I sweep, or wipe down furniture, that there is an eternal layer of dust EVERYWHERE. Once upon a time I thought it would be neat to live in a house with hardwood floors. Now that I do, I find it an impossible challenge to keep them clean and free from dustbunny tumbleweeds. And don’t even get me started on cleaning the bathroom…

But I’m a little off track. Let me say it once again: I enjoy doing the laundry.

Did I mention that we don’t own a clothes dryer?

Call me crazy. (Some of my friends already have!)

I guess this is where my attention to detail and organization come in handy. Coupled with the fact that both Jake and I grew up in households where our mothers hung a majority of laundry out on the clothesline, it’s just what works best for our household. My parents still own the same dryer that they did when they built their house in 1978! My mom has been known to hang out laundry at 9 p.m. on a winter’s night. Now that, to me, is just a bit crazy.

Moving into a house owned by a relative (we bought Jake’s grandparents’ house) made it nice because all of the appliances were left here, including a dryer. Our guess it was from the 1970s or early 1980s, and we were told that Jake’s gram rarely used it as she preferred to hang out the laundry. Having a nice clothesline in our yard excited me, because after 7 years of apartment living, I would hang my clothing on racks to dry. I don’t remember using a dryer all that often, and I think for a period of time I’d take my laundry home because I hated wasting quarters, and am thoroughly convinced a dryer shrinks clothes.

Anyway, the washer and dryer were in a closet upstairs (easier access for his gram, and our downstairs was once an apartment) when we first moved in, and the one time I actually tried to use the dryer, I found that the closet door could not be opened far enough to allow the dryer door to be opened. After we cleaned out our sun room to actually use it, and semi-cleaned the basement, we moved the washer and dryer downstairs.  Jake bought stuff to hook up the dryer, but he also bought a dowel rod so I could hang shirts on hangers to dry. And I wasn’t really bothered by not having the dryer working. Never mind the fact it was a bit wobbly, non-energy efficient, and a likely fire hazard. Finally, this fall, we (well, Jake and his dad) put the dryer out to the curb for trash pickup.

During our 4 years of living here, I’ve either hung our clothes in the basement to dry, or outside. I’ve not given a second thought about not having a dryer. And since we heat with electric and our electric bill shoots up during the winter, I am glad we’re at least saving a little energy by not using a dryer!

I’ve had many questions on how I live without a clothes dryer, and so I figure I’ll share a couple questions and answers for anyone who may be interested in being crazy like me…

1    Aren’t your jeans/socks/towels stiff? Just a little, but I give each article of clothing a good shake before I hang it up to get rid of any excess water and to get some wrinkles out. I do not use fabric softener, but I do find using white vinegar in its place helps soften fabrics. And I hang socks downstairs no matter what because it is kind of a pain to hang up each individual sock with clothespins.

2    What about those clothespin marks? For whatever reason, some days the marks are prominent, others not so much. I think it may have to do with how long I leave stuff out, and how warm it is outside. Once I fold clothes or hang them in the closet, I barely even notice them by the next time the clothing is worn.

3    What do you do in the winter? Everything gets hung in the basement on drying racks or hangers. On the occasional day the temperature creeps up in the 40s and its bright and sunny, I’ll get a set of sheets out on the line. We have enough sets of sheets to get us through the winter, and I’ll admit, I don’t really enjoy hanging our bath towels downstairs (mainly because we have bath sheets because Jake is so tall and likes a big towel), but with the dehumidifier running in the laundry room, stuff dries pretty quickly.

4    Doesn’t the sun fade your clothes? I truly think not. For some dark items, I will hang them inside out (Jake prefers his work t-shirts to be hung that way), but when the girls’ clothes are out on the line, I find that the sun is a great bleaching agent for those odd stains that don’t seem to come out otherwise. And I will say that I’d rather have a little fading over having clothes shrink in the dryer. I’ve been to the local kid consignment store, and I’ve picked out clothing in my daughters’ sizes and there is NO WAY those items would fit them because they are way too small for the size on the tag, and I can tell those clothes were cycled many times in a dryer. But that’s a little off the subject…

5    Doesn’t it take a lot of time to hang stuff out on the line? Well, yes, it’s not as easy as throwing stuff in the dryer. However, once you have clothes in the dryer, you can’t really leave your house. (Can you? I know my mom never did.) I for one would not feel secure in leaving my house with one running. But I can hang a load of clothes out before work and not worry about them… unless an unpredicted rain shower comes along. (That has honestly only happened one time that I can recall.)

Having a clothesline is one of the perks of living in this house. There are some developments here in State College that don’t allow clotheslines. If and when we decide to move, if we can’t have a clothesline, that is a deal breaker. Seriously.

Still think I’m crazy? That’s quite all right. It’s the one smidge of my life that I actually feel like a Supermom.

But don’t expect me to make my own laundry detergent anytime soon.

Runaway Child at the Checkout!

Normally, I head to Target with a clear head, a definitive list, and coupons in hand. Sometimes I have fun just browsing, or scooping up an item on clearance (and not just because it's on clearance!). I enjoy my little trips to that store, and quite often head there alone.

Today, as I walked through those doors with both girls, I felt a small sense of trepidation. (Yeah, just wait until it's 3 kids, you're thinking. I am well aware of this fact already.) Averey, while mostly super energetic, would prefer to stand on the back of the cart because apparently the walking tires her out. (That's what she gets for not eating a good supper!) Kelsey would prefer to walk, but the lack of trust I have with her gives her a front seat to the cart. Lately, she's figured out how to unbuckle the safety belt, so I just decided not to fasten her in. 

As we made our way through the aisles with my list in hand, Kelsey wanted out of the cart, making no bones about her intentions. Since Kelsey will follow Averey around like a little duckling, I told her she could be out if she held her sister's hand. Since Averey is the firstborn and has that motherly, in-charge instinct, she took her role seriously. We continued through the store, and I was actually quite amused at watching them walk, chatting among themselves.

Just as we were on our last leg of our journey, we'd made it to the food section without incident. Averey was suddenly attracted to the big barrel of Cheez Balls, and Kelsey to the Goldfish. I picked up a bulk box of fruit snacks and appropriately dropped it on the floor as I seem to have a ridiculous case of the "dropsies" now that I'm pregnant. (It's such a cruel joke to drop everything on the floor when you can barely bend down to reach it!). As I placed them in the cart, Kelsey bolted down the aisle. Now even though I had made time earlier to do my Physical Therapy exercises for my back, I was still in no shape for running. So little mommy Averey ran after her, and then announced, "She's in the next aisle!" I left my cart and we tag-teamed Kelsey, just as she took a spill on the floor. The resilient child that she is, she barely blinked an eye and got up. I scooped her up and placed her back in the cart just like I had warned her.

Ah, safe at the checkout. Kelsey wanted to place the items on the conveyor belt, so I gave them to her and she was excited to help. As the items were bagged and I put them back in the cart, it was clear I was going to need Kelsey's seat for some bags. She was itching to get out anyway, so I told her to once again hold her sister's hand. And then it all happened in a blink...

I was paying the cashier, watching the girls out of the corner of my eye. Before I knew it, Kelsey was gone, Averey was shrugging her shoulders, and I was urgently telling Averey to go get her sister. (!!!) The cashier sensed I needed to get out of there, and I was running my cart out of the store with no girls in sight. (And this is why I am no Supermom. Who lets a 2-year-old out of her sight in Target?)

I suddenly saw Averey's blond head and yellow shirt (good choice) at the entrance. I stormed out of the store, back into the store, and there Kelsey was, wedged in a comfy corner behind the metal detector, sucking her thumb and hanging onto her lovey blanket. I grabbed her, realized my cart was in the entrance, but no one was walking through the entrance at that moment, and those entrance doors are clearly marked "DO NOT EXIT", so I stormed out of the store and back into the store again, snagged my cart, and Kelsey was slipping out of my arms like a fish. We then were blocking the exit door, and people passed us, hopefully not paying one bit of attention to the spectacle we surely were creating. I took her lovey, which caused her to cry harder, but it was the only way I could get her attention so we could all get out of there in one piece. Even though it was just a couple hours ago, I honestly can't recall if I had her hold her sister's hand, or if I carried her... oh, no wait. I carried her. My back is paying for that as we speak.

She cried on the way home. I wanted to, but was seething. At Kelsey for not listening, at myself for forgetting this is the child who has dashed into the ocean with no fear, and takes off running with no warning. And then the pain from being 6 months pregnant with terrible sciatic pain kicked in, and that almost did make me cry. I can't even run after my child! What if she had run out into the parking lot? And can I really expect my 6-year-old to stop her when she knows not to run in a parking lot?  

No one gives you a manual for child-rearing. They are all so different, even when biologically related. God knows that I am fully equipped to handle Kelsey. I just have to remember that for myself.

So 2 hours later as she's naked from the waist down, and calling her sister, "Mommy Averey", I just have to laugh to myself and remember that this kid has far more hilarious moments than ones like what we experienced at Target today.

If anything, I spent less today than I would have if I had shopped alone. I know that will at least make Jake happy.

The Dreaded Dinnertime

I am not ashamed to admit it, but I’m near defeat when it comes to getting my girls to eat at dinner time. Averey fusses about what’s on her plate unless it’s chicken nuggets, pierogies or Kraft mac and cheese (which I never serve—she just gets it at my in-laws’ house).  I am thankful for her chow hound of a sister, who has no discernment when it comes to putting food in her mouth (or dirt, but that’s a later post). However, we’ve noticed lately that as she is approaching age 3, she is becoming a little pickier, but I think it’s because she echoes her sister’s “yucks”. She still will try most things though, but I fear I will have another uber-picky child on our hands.  Since Kelsey has been eating solid foods, I have been running an experiment of sorts with my girls, with no real science involved. I realize that may make me sound more like a researcher than a mother, but I’m proving a point (to myself) to make me feel just a little bit better about the polar opposites my girls are when it comes to food intake.

I was in two very different life situations when I became a mother to these wonderful girls. Being a single mother when Averey was a baby, feeding her was more about convenience than substance, to an extent. I breastfed because it was free (and I always wanted to, first and foremost), and while I should have been interested in saving money, I bought her baby food in jars. I wasn’t really cooking for myself and didn’t think feeding her Schwan’s food was the best option. She was a great eater when she started—I followed the advice to start her on veggies before fruit, and she gobbled every slurpy spoonful up. I figured I had a good eater on my hands. As she got older, she got pickier. By the time Jake and I got married when Averey was 2, we were cooking meals, but she wasn’t too big on what we would eat. We became short order cooks, but that got old fast. And so does the whining and complaining about anything that is on her plate at dinner time. (This mom heaves a great sigh.)

Kelsey, on the other hand, was rarely fed jarred baby food. Even though I was married, working and had a 3 & ½ year old, I could’ve settled for convenience once again. But somehow when I would go shopping, I saw the baby food as a lot more expensive! My mom had given me the baby food grinder she used for my brother and me, and while I used it to easily mash up bananas and maybe peas for Averey, I decided to utilize this 30+ year old grinder to its fullest potential. I ground up every single meal we ate so Kelsey could enjoy it too, and then would grind up some the leftovers, and freeze in an ice cube tray for later consumption. The textures and colors (and smells) were so much more palatable (in my mom opinion), that Kelsey was much more of a foodie than her sister ever was. Two-and-a-half years later, this kid is an incredible eater. I’m convinced that because of their baby diets, it has shaped their eating habits today.

That’s not to say that Averey doesn’t eat. She gobbles up fruit and veggies, and I am grateful for that much since most kids seem to be picky about those food items. She has a sweet tooth like her mama, and while I limit our junk food intake, I can totally understand where she’s coming from when she wants candy! But now that she’s 6, it’s starting to get old when she fusses about a meal that we’ve already eaten several times. We’ve tried pretty much every approach in the book to get her to eat at dinner. The only thing that seems to work (most of the time) is that she has to eat at least 6 bites since she’s 6 years old. Even if she kind of likes the dish, she wants to stop at 6 and believes that to be sufficient in order to receive a treat or privileges. I think what irritates me the most is she’ll say she’s not hungry, but if we tell her she can have a treat, she’ll automatically perk up and be starving. She always seems to be hungry a half-hour (or sooner) after she hasn’t eaten her supper. We’ve tried saving her plate for later when she gets hungry, but those are the evenings she’ll never get hungry again.

In having children, I try and put myself in their shoes and remember what it was like to be a picky kid. I know as an adult, I still don’t like mayonnaise, or any salad with a mayo base (potato, macaroni, etc. Someone once said I must be oh-so-fun at a picnic.), olives, pickles (been pregnant 3 times and never craved them—although the hubby did can some last fall that aren’t too bad), mushrooms, mustard, I didn’t start eating ketchup until a couple years ago (and that doesn’t mean I will put it on anything voluntarily—it just means I won’t scrape it off a food it has tainted), I have to heat up cold meat sandwiches (regardless of whether I’m pregnant—listeriosis risk—or not), but that’s not being picky, right? I mean, all of those foods I’ve listed are gross! I at least try everything before I say I don’t like it, multiple times. I’m just not sure what it is about her taste buds that severely limits the joy of tasting so many wonderful foods. Surely she is pickier than I ever was.

Of course, I would only drink Tang until I was 22 when I had to start buying it for myself and realized that after years of turning my nose at orange juice, it really wasn’t so bad. That’s probably a good thing, because my insides would probably be orange by now.

Having a picky kid does have one perk, as Jake pointed out tonight: it’s cheap.