Reflecting on Those High School Years...

Jake and I mark a small milestone this year: we’ve been out of high school for 15 years. Seriously? I can remember when my mom was out of high school for 15 years. It was 1988, and she got a booklet in the mail that listed all of her classmates and what they’d been up to since 1973. I was fascinated by this and would delve into her yearbook and match up the people with their pictures. I had nine years before I would graduate high school, and it seemed so far away. Over the years, I would look at my mom’s yearbooks again and have a good chuckle at her pictures, and the clothing and hairstyles. She warned me that I too would laugh at my yearbooks someday. Fifteen years later, I still don’t think I look quite as ridiculous as my mom, even if I was totally rocking the Jennifer Aniston ‘do in my senior pictures...

I look back on high school with some fond memories. Jake, on the other hand, was glad to leave. I graduated in a class of 170 people; Jake graduated with over 400. I didn’t know every single person in my class, but I at least knew their names. I don’t even know how you could begin to find your place in a class that large. Other than the fact that Jake was tall (people mistake him for being a football player all the time) and teachers knew his brother (which occasionally was a strike against him), he skated through State College High School under the radar (which is something he didn’t seem to mind). When we talk about our high school days, the only regret he seems to have is that he didn’t work to his full potential. Maybe.

I can’t say I have numerous regrets about high school. When I take the time to read old journal entries, I sometimes cringe at things I said or did and can’t believe how stupid I could be. But I guess that’s all part of growing up and maturing. Other than the choice of some of my classes during my senior year (I so wish I would’ve taken more art classes than the unnecessary Advanced Chem and Pre-Cal, which just made me feel dumb), knowing I could have done better in some classes, and perhaps more involved in activities, I’m pretty satisfied with my high school career. And really, 15 years later, how much of it even matters anymore?

I had a good group of friends over the years, and I wasn’t much for teenage rebellion since I didn’t want any privileges taken away. I was (and still am) a horrible liar. I never could’ve pulled off lying to my parents… oh, I’m sure there’s a couple things I got away with, but I didn’t sneak out, the parties I attended were sans alcohol, and I paid enough attention in health class that I feared ever trying any illegal substance. (And still do to this day.) I focused my dramatics on boys. I was never quite happy with my appearance since I wore glasses through 8^th grade (and glasses from the late '80s and early '90s were anything but cool), and even contact lenses didn’t make me feel any less of an ugly duckling. I was never without makeup, and even when my friends were kind enough to tell me my lipstick was waaaay too bright, I perceived that as an insult to my appearance. It didn’t help that my complexion was anything but clear and had the tetracycline/Retin-A combo to treat my acne. Thankfully, I didn’t have the super-visible-not-able-to-cover-up-with-makeup-acne, but a lot of it was my own fault since I liked (and still have this terrible habit) to pick. The bright side to my (still) oily face is that my mom constantly reminds me that I won’t have wrinkles when I get older since I was lucky (?) enough to inherit her oily genes. Not what you want to hear at 16 though. Nor did I enjoy hearing friends say, “Oh my gosh, I have A zit!” I’m like, “Okay, let me show you all of mine. I can play connect-the-dots!”

Being a high-schooler in the mid-‘90s was pretty carefree. Not that I can speak for everyone. I was fortunate enough to have a decent home life, and in spite of getting doses of real life through seventeen magazine (no cable at my house), I lived in my own little world. I didn’t give much thought about college, and after a sampling of dorm life at Penn State during 4-H State Days, I was a little uneasy about attending college. I knew it was what I was supposed to do after high school, but I had no idea what I wanted to be when I grew up. (Oh wait, I still don’t!)

I am very nostalgic about the ‘90s. The movies I watched repeatedly (Clueless, Dumb & Dumber), the music I overplayed (Live, Alanis Morissette), the TV shows I obsessed over (Friends, hence the haircut)… I’m sure my kids will make fun of me someday for all of that stuff, and not to mention some of my clothes (I’m making fun of me too for some of those outfit choices—yikers!), but those things will always remind me of my teenage life, which in all honesty, was pretty darn easy compared to some of the stuff I’ve dealt with as an adult.

But were they the best years of my life? As I'm a working mom and a wife and just trying to keep up with housework, bills and remembering all the things that need to get done for the day... not even close. I am blessed to be at this point, something that was so difficult to imagine 15 years ago.

Kelsey's Birth Day

It is hard for me to believe that Kelsey arrived into this world three years ago today. She did arrive two weeks early, so we were a bit surprised, but when I think about her birth day, it really is proof to me that God cares about the little details.

Prior to our April 2008 nuptials, my baby fever was at an all-time low. And understandably so, being a (legally) single mother and all. Shortly after Jake and I got married, it started to kick in. But I said I didn’t want another child until Averey was potty-trained. Lo and behold, she was potty-trained within a weekend in mid-June. Baby fever was in high gear. Jake was content to wait awhile before we thought about having another child, but somehow my powers of persuasion (and the fact that I wanted one more child before I would turn 30 on May 28, 2009) influenced his decision to say that I didn’t have to fill my birth control prescription anymore that August. His adoption of Averey would be finalized at the end of that month, so perhaps in knowing that she would be his (legal) child was an influence likewise. Plus, it could take awhile before I got pregnant. In my mind, I figured since it didn’t take longer than 6 months to get pregnant with Averey when I was married to someone who didn’t really care about me, it would figure that it would take a long time (or not happen at all) for me to get pregnant to my nice husband.

One night in September, I went to Target with Averey to pick up a few things. Among those items was a pregnancy test… just in case. I would need it eventually, right? After I arrived home, I asked Jake if he could get Averey in her pajamas, saying I urgently needed to go to the bathroom. I doubted he would think twice about questioning that excuse. I unwrapped a pregnancy test, whispering to myself how ridiculous it was for me to be doing this as I hadn’t even missed my period. I placed it on the counter and removed my contact lenses. When I put my glasses on and picked up the test, my heart skipped a beat when there were two definite pink lines. By this point, Jake seemed a little concerned over my time in the bathroom and knocked on the door.

“What’s going on?”

“Guess what?” I asked him as he entered.

“What?”

“I’m pregnant,” I blurted out, flashing the evidence in front of face. (I imagined his response: he would get an excited look upon his face and wrap me in a hug.)

His real response? “Why didn’t you tell me you were taking a test?”

Okay, so much for my little dream response. Poof!

As the night wore on and we talked in bed, I knew he was happy, but I think both of us were in shock. I honestly had no intuition that I was even pregnant. I knew it was a possibility, and I figured that if I took a test this month and it was negative, I’d still have two more for later. But to a woman that could possibly be pregnant, having a pregnancy test in the house and not taking it is like chocolate in the house and not eating it.

Well, at least that’s how it was for me.

The next day I was on the phone to the OB-GYN’s office. Since I didn’t really have any recommendations from anyone, nor were Jake and I revealing our news for awhile, I called one of the bigger groups in town. It just so happened that during the summer, I saw an ad welcoming an OB-GYN back to the area; it just so happened this was the exact same doctor that delivered Averey in Harrisburg. I joked to Jake that if we got pregnant, we could have the same doctor deliver the next child. What I didn’t realize is that I would have to see all the doctors in the practice, so the chance of her delivering my second child seemed unlikely.

At eight weeks of pregnancy, we had our first check-up, first ultrasound, and then we could start spreading the news. My pregnancy went pretty well, much like my first one. I was even going to be a bridesmaid in one of my best friend’s weddings nearly two weeks before my due date. When Erin first asked me, I wasn’t pregnant. When I told her the news and my due date, she seemed a little unsure that I would be able to perform my bridesmaid duties in that state (her mom is an OB nurse, so I’m sure she was well aware that I might not make it through the wedding, let alone to the wedding) and let me know that if I didn’t feel I could do it that I could still be a part of the wedding in another way. I told her I’d wait and see what happened at the 20-week ultrasound, and we’d go from there.

Twenty weeks approached quickly, and Baby G (as we referred to our unborn child) appeared to be healthy. We also decided not to find out the gender, much to everyone’s dismay. While I had known that Averey was a girl (and am glad I knew her gender due to the situation I was in), I had always imagined giving birth and the doctor announcing, “It’s a…!” Jake was happy not to know also, as we both agreed there are few good surprises in life, and we could wait until Baby G was born to know. So I told Erin I still wanted to be a bridesmaid. After all, she was in (both of) my wedding(s)!

Aside from sciatic pain, a bout of bronchitis, failing my 28-week glucose test, and having people tell me just how huge I was (“You look like you’re about to pop!” “Oh really? I still have 20 weeks to go, thankyouverymuch!”), I still enjoyed being pregnant as much as I did with Averey. When I had to do the 3-hour glucose test, I passed with flying colors, and eventually my weeks started to coincide with how big I was actually supposed to be.

On May 23, 2009, I was perhaps the most pregnant bridesmaid EVER. While my feet were starting to swell, I was thrilled to be a part of Erin’s special day. I didn’t let being hugely pregnant get in the way of having a great time at her reception, which meant I danced. A lot. I told people I was going to dance this baby out since at my 37 week check-up I was not dilated one little bit.

We arrived home on Sunday afternoon, and since the following day was Memorial Day, we had plans to get lots done around the house. We went out to eat, but I didn’t have much of an appetite. Afterwards, we headed to Target. I opened my big mouth to Jake and said, “Wouldn’t it be cool if we had the baby on Memorial Day because I was born on Memorial Day, but we wouldn’t have the same birthday?” He didn’t seem to think it was the coolest idea. I also called my parents—on their cell phones, on their home phone, and no one picked up. When they called back a little while later, I said, “This is only a test, but if this had been the actual delivery of Baby G, you would have missed it.”

We went to bed that night around 11, super tired and geared up for the next day. At about 2:45 Monday morning, a little leak woke me up. I just figured it was typical pregnancy yuck (and many of you will know exactly what I’m talking about), so I went to the bathroom, added some feminine protection, and went back to bed. A few minutes later, I had a contraction. I whispered, “Ow ow,” and went back to the bathroom. I sat on the toilet, leaking, but not actually peeing. Jake came in and asked if everything was okay. I said, “I think my water broke, but I’ll get back to you on that.” I was afraid to get off the toilet, so I had him hand me a pad and with much trepidation, went back to our room. We called the doctor, and since I had tested positive for group B strep, I was to come in and get started on antibiotics if my membranes had ruptured. Jake tried calling his parents, who were at their campground about 30 minutes away. They didn’t answer right away, but thankfully, they soon picked up and were headed to our house.

We arrived at the hospital a little before 4 a.m. I was fine heading up to the 4^th floor on my feet, but some crazed orderly practically shoved me in a wheelchair. I ended up in the LDR room with the big tub that we had seen on our tour of the hospital. I got all set up in the room while Jake called my parents, informing them that it was NOT a test, and Baby G was on the way. I don’t remember how far dilated I was, but the doctor that saw me was the ONLY doctor in the practice I hadn’t seen. However, she informed me that Dr. Patel would be in during the next couple of hours. Dr. Patel was the one who delivered Averey—and she really would be delivering my second child! Unreal!

After bit, I was told I could walk the halls. I was a little grossed out by the idea since I was leaking fluid, but they gave me plenty of goodies to ensure I wouldn’t leak on the floor. We did so many laps that morning, but it did not progress my labor enough, so they turned on the Pitocin, much to my dismay. At first, the contractions didn’t feel that much worse, but as they kicked it up a notch, and another notch, and another notch, I was squeezing Jake’s hand pretty darn hard. With the breathing and squeezing, I figured I could make it without the epidural. But when I was in enough pain to not want Averey to see me that way (and not want our parents in the room anymore), I decided I needed that epidural.

Around 12:30 (and nearly 10 hours into labor), I finally felt some relief. It was short-lived though, as my blood pressure plummeted just like it did when I had the epidural with Averey. The baby’s heart rate dropped, just like Averey’s did. With Averey, they were able to stabilize everything with ephedrine and oxygen. Unfortunately, this time, nothing worked. I felt extremely exhausted and fearful to close my eyes. They even said that my diastolic pressure was down to 33. Yikes! The only solution was to turn off the epidural. What a waste.

By 2 p.m., I felt the urge to push. Jake preferred I waited until the Dr. Patel came in the room. And then it was lights and action (no cameras involved)! Unlike my previous birth experience, I could feel EVERYTHING this time. I just hoped that our families could not hear me down the hall in the waiting room! Fortunately, the pain was great motivation to push, and the baby was out in less than 10 minutes (or maybe less than that—I wasn’t watching the clock). Dr. Patel told Jake to call it, and he looked at me with a small smile and said, “It’s a girl.” The baby whose gender that we hadn’t known, and the name we had kept secret (Kelsey Kaylen) was wailing in front of us. It was just how I imagined giving birth, with my dear husband next to me. Although he’ll never admit it, I know there was some emotion in his voice and eyes.

Jake went to announce Kelsey’s birth to our families and brought Averey back to the room to meet her sister. Her sister! Jake and I both have brothers, so this was all new for us. I couldn’t believe I was the mom of two sweet girls. I thought for sure that Averey would be the bossy big sister of a little brother, just like I was. Jake was pretty convinced all along that we were having a girl. So much for my motherly instinct!

So Kelsey’s entrance in the world ended up being a pretty awesome day for her to be born. We named her Kelsey (because we liked it), and her middle name Kaylen is a combination of Jake’s mom’s middle name KAYe, and my mom’s middle name HeLEN . She was born exactly two weeks prior to her June 8^th due date, which meant I had another child before I turned 30. She was born on Memorial Day, just like I was. She was born on Jake’s late grandfather’s birthday, and we live in the house that he built. She was also born on the same day that my great-grandmother passed away at age 99 in 2007. I also found out I was pregnant with Averey on May 25, 2005. Then the fact that Dr. Patel delivered Kelsey here in State College, while she had delivered Averey in Harrisburg. What were the chances?

Kelsey was truly meant for May 25, 2009. She surprised us for sure, but God’s plan for her to arrive into the world on a day that ended up having so much meaning in both of our families proved to us that it was more than just coincidence. 

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.