Big News наша семья растет!

We've been noticeably absent from the blogosphere lately, but that doesn't mean that nothing noteworthy has been happening.  We visited a zoo, we bought a chair, oh yeah, and...

WE'RE ADOPTING!!! (and we couldn't be more excited)

Yep, we're adopting.  Not one, but two babies.  Read that sentence again.  The number two is not a typo. 

Yep, we're adopting two babies.  

From Russia.  

(!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

P.S. Lots more details to come!  We know this adoption stuff is new for most of you, too. : )

Fruitful Friday?

 

Does a strawberry smoothie at Sturgis Falls count as a "Fruitful Friday?" Because Jay and I had 3 of them today.  Just sayin'....  We're out and about enjoying the most beautiful summer day we've had this year.  But I'm trying hard after several scoldings to get back on this bloggin' train - so see you Monday? 

Journey

I love quotes! :)

A Tribute to Mom

Today was supposed to be Part 3 of my very epic tale on budgeting. That said, because I left you all hanging right as I was getting to the good stuff last week, I'd intended to actually write Part 3 of the blog yesterday. That way I wouldn't run out of steam prior to my deadline. That did not happen. Instead, after returning from a brief trip to the Quad Cities, I decided to mow my yard. As you all know, one can't mow the lawn and write a blog in the same night. That's impossible. So rather than rush through Mundane Monday, I'll write it later this week.

Instead, I thought in honor of Mother's Day, I'd write a Top Ten List dedicated to Vick Schmitz, a rather cool mom. Without further adieu, here are ten of my favorite things about my mom:

10) Irrational fear of the police: If you looked back on our childhood, you'd think my mother was a wanted felon. Every time we drove by a cop, she'd suspiciously look in the rear-view. One Christmas there was a story about a mother of three kidnapping her children and driving them across the country in a mini-van. That same Christmas, my mother of three happened to be driving a mini-van. She spent the entire drive to Grandma's convincing us that each cop was staring at us. I think this fear of hers might be why I have never trusted authority.

9) She makes a snack bar that consists of pretzels, peanut butter, butter, M+Ms, and peanuts (or something similar). They are so good, but they are terrible for you. When anyone would want to stop eating them, she would tell them, "Keep eating them. They're good for you. They have pretzels in them." That's a solid argument if I ever heard one. To this day, she refuses to acknowledge these bars are probably 400 calories each. Instead, she's named them, "Health Bars."

8) This is her favorite joke: If Jose had a brother, what would his name be? Answer: Hose B. Once, when she'd had too much wine, Mom and I had the following exchange:

Mom: Tell that joke.
Me: What joke?
Mom: The funny Jose joke.
Me: If Jose had a brother, what would his name be?
Mom: Hose B! (laughs hysterically)
Me: But Mom, what would the name of their triplet brother be?
Mom: (confused) I don't know?
Me: Hose C.
Mom: (cries from laughing)

It might literally be the worst joke of all time, but she loves it.

7) She lives Hakuna Matata: Shortly after the Lion King came out in theaters, our family bought the soundtrack. Once, while driving down University Avenue blaring Hakuna Matata as loud as possible, Mom ran two red lights and went about twenty miles over the speed limit (note: my memory might be exaggerating this). Either way, the song Hakuna Matata means a problem free philosophy to most, but it means near death to my siblings and me.

6) She does not like Matthew McConaughey: We don't know why. She just doesn't. She claims to have a reason, but really, who can passionately dislike Matthew McConaughey? I can see not really caring about him, but adamant hatred?

5) I'm pretty sure she has secret magic powers: As a child, back in the days before DVRs and fancy digital recording devices, we had one VCR. On that one VCR, we needed to tape two shows that were on at the same time. One of them was a very special episode of Saved by the Bell (the last episode where the gang worked at the summer resort) and one of them was something else (my memory is good but not perfect). I to this day have no idea how she pulled this off, but she managed to tape both shows on the same tape. It was amazing. So was Saved by the Bell.

4) The most loyal person in the world: Seriously, don't do anything to any of her children. She won't like you ever again. Even after the children have forgiven you, she will remember. She even has our back when we screw up. Good Mom, that one.

This picture was taken the same day as the one at the end of this blog. It's impossible to find pictures of mom though because of her insistence on photographing every detail of every event. Due to that, she's hardly in any pictures. You'll notice, if you read the top ten list carefully, her penchant for taking photos is not one of my favorite things about her.

3) She's convinced Justin, my friend from high school, stole spoons from our house. How? Quote: "He always left with our spoons as he ate our ice cream." There are a couple things wrong here: Justin never, ever to my knowledge ate ice cream at our house. If he did, I'm pretty sure he wouldn't steal a spoon. Second, I don't think he took one spoon let alone enough spoons to necessitate Mom formulating the thought Justin stole all of our spoons. I'll admit, the spoon shortage at Casa de Schmitz was a little troubling, but I'll do what I'll always do, blame Anne and Dallas.

2) Creative and talented: The woman is a master with fabric. She makes the best greeting cards of any human I know. In fact, I can't shop for a Hallmark card because 1) none of them are at all funny and 2) I think Mom's cards are so much cooler. She also cuts various pieces of fabric and makes large prints. In eighth grade, when her very fat eighth grade son lamented over the fact he had to retire his favorite YAGA shirt, Mom recreated the image with pieces of fabric and framed it for him. It was so cool. Mom is so cool.

Mom recreated this shirt for this idiot. Such a cool shirt.

1) She's just awesome: I know I've joked around throughout most of this list, but the fact is we Schmitz children have a really cool mom. She'll listen if you need to vent. She'll joke around with you if you feel like it. She has ample amounts of beer and candy at her house. But most of all, she's made it abundantly clear she will do anything for any of us. All of us Schmitz kids grew up with a mom we considered a friend, and I think that's a big reason all of us kids have become such good friends with each other. While obviously I was very easy to raise and caused hardly any problems at all, it couldn't have been easy raising me alongside Dallas (ugh) and Anne (yuck). But somehow she did it, and for that, I wish her a Happy Mother's Day.

Two of the best Moms ever, the future best Mom ever, and one lucky guy.

There Was Baseball

My friend Kameron is in a band called Minus Six. My favorite song of theirs is called, "Good Days" because of the following verse:

I sure hope sometime we'll reminisce
And we'll laugh and we'll talk
And remember way back when
When we would sit back and never worry bout a thing
We just prayed that that grass came up thick and green
So we could lay down at night and wish on the stars up above us
That's what we liked to do when we were young
And now all we want to do is you-know-what
I guess that's part; I guess that's part of growing up

I couldn't find the song on Youtube, but I recommend you spend the $.99 on i-Tunes and check it out. What I like about that lyric is the playful "all we want to do is you-know-what." It's not often people lament the fact they are now you-know-whating. The song also talks about baseball and the Fourth of July and all those memories from childhood we like so much.

Cover Art to Minus Six's "Hidden Deep in the Green." Buy this album. Kameron's wife is pregnant. He needs money.

The song reminds me of part of my recent adventure to sunny Los Angeles. To me, the highlight of our trip was a Dodgers game. I know a lot of people think they hate baseball, but I think there is something ingrained in our Americana that appreciates live baseball. There is really nothing like it. There's just something about sitting outside on a warm afternoon or night and watching a game unravel. The hot dogs, the diet soda beverages, and, in my case, the excessive spending on t-shirts.

After the game, there were to be fireworks. We knew the fireworks were coming, and we spent most of the game pretending to be excited for them. When the game ended and people were leaving, we'd ask people with faux enthusiasm, "Why aren't you staring for fireworks?" We were jaded, but really, they're just fireworks...

Yippee...woo hoo!

....or so we thought. Prior to them turning off the lights, they opened up the gates and let people walk out onto the field. The field! A real baseball field! Where real baseball players play real baseball!

Dan: Sorry ladies, he's married. He's just teasing you with his "I'm sexy" look.

Maybe it was the weather. Maybe it was the unexpected surprise of being on the field, but the six of us started to act like giddy, carefree children.

Jeff: Giving one last tip of the cap to the fans after a stellar performance.

We kicked off our flip-flops and squished the grass between our toes. We jumped up and down. If memory serves, we even put our arms around each other and swayed back and forth for a bit.

Steve: I don't know what he's going for here. Seduction? Indifference? Foolish?

For that moment, we weren't jaded adults. Our jobs didn't matter. It was just fireworks, loud music, and friends.

Jesus, I mean Jon: The most jaded guy I know...just as giddy as the rest of us.

That something about baseball I alluded to...I think it's because the simplicity of the game brings us back to our childhood. Like the Minus Six song, baseball helps us remember way back when we would sit back and never worry about a thing.

Joe: Stand up Joe. That's bad posture. You'll hurt your neck.

Before responsibilities, before pressure, before fertility struggles and mortgage payments, there was baseball. And there still is.

Triple the Trouble...

Everyone knows how much our family loves dogs.  Since moving to Cedar Falls, Dottie has had a lot of playtime with her friends Maggie (my mom's dog) and Millie (Jay's mom's dog).  She has done really well adjusting to having two friends around to play with quite frequently, and seems really sad when there isn't another dog around. 

So in an attempt to grow our little family bigger.....

Meet our new....

Puppies!!!!

Kim, Khloe, and Kourtney!!!

Yah, I know you think we're crazy.  But I think this will be a great addition to our family!  We are so blessed!!!

















APRIL FOOLS! :)

Where have we been? We've been right here.

Dear Friends of the Blogosphere:

I write to thee with a formal apology. You probably noticed the lack of Fruitful Friday blog this past Friday. You might have even noticed the lack of a Wet and Wild Weekend blog last weekend. We’re sorry. We haven’t forgotten about you.

When Kelsey and I started this blog (or restarted?), we didn’t quite realize just how much of my time grad school would consume. Evidently earning a degree and working full-time takes a lot of time. Who knew? Because grad school is occupying so much of my time, the stuff I normally do around the house falls on Kelsey…thus her time is now all booked too.

Our Friday blogs were supposed to be reflections on the struggles of babymaking. But here’s the problem: by the time Friday rolls its beautiful self around, neither Kelsey nor I are in much of a blogging mood. (We’re actually in a babymaking mood, but you probably don’t want to read about such things. I’ll let you use your imagination.) This has literally everything to do with the fact that the end of my week looks like this: Wednesday night is homework/laundry night. Thursday I leave home at 6:00am and return home at 10:30pm. And the end of Kelsey’s week looks like this: Wednesday she gets the entire house in order. Thursday she longingly looks out the window awaiting her husband’s valiant return.

By the time I’m done with work on Friday, I don’t really want to write poignant reflections on the womb. I want to take my wife out to dinner and talk to her for the first time in three days. When dinner and a movie (or, more accurately—Thursday night DVR’d TV) are over, we’re usually soundly asleep on the couch. As Dottie wakes us up and tells us to go to bed, the time for blogging has passed.

That’s not to say we still don’t have thoughts on child-rearing, adoption, and schtuppin’. We just want to spend some time talking to each other instead of the interweb sometimes.

Anyways, please accept this formal apology for the occasional missed blog. We’ll try not to have it happen very often…but I can’t promise it won’t happen sometimes. Just know when it does, it’s happening for the right reasons, and not because we are lazy sloth like creatures.

Thank you, and good night.

Jay

Kelsey Should Come Home Now

I realized this week that if I didn't have a wife, I'd probably be dead. I'd become a sleep deprived, emaciated shell of a human. It's probably best if Kelsey comes home now. I have some strange quirks/habits that Kelsey helps me keep in check by reminding me to be human.

For instance, sometimes I don't eat. It's nothing serious, but if I don't have dinner plans I'll forget to eat. I get distracted, especially if I have something productive I need to do--homework, a project, anything. I'll just keep on working sans food. This annoys my lovely wife a great deal. We can be running errand after errand, and she'll finally, very calmly with tons of patience, ask, "When the hell are we going to eat?" I usually respond with, "Oh yeah. Food."

This week on Tuesday (retirement party), on Wednesday (study group in Cedar Rapids), and on Thursday (marathon take home mid-term work) I realized I was hungry around 10:15 at night. On Tuesday and Wednesday I didn't eat. On Thursday, I ordered Jimmy Johns...which leads to another problem I have:

I don't have any concept or respect for time. I'll start something like laundry or organizing a random closet at 10:00 at night. I'll get a burst of productivity and ride it until the wee hours of the morning. Sometimes I'll get a burst of unproductivity and unride it until the wee hours of the morning. This is a typical conversation Kelsey and I have the day after a day she goes to bed earlier than me:

"What time did you come to bed last night?" Kelsey asks.

"Actually, it was probably around 1:30am." Jay says.

"Why?"

"Well I was going to come to bed, but then the Godfather was on TV. I hadn't seen it in a while, so I watched it. That made me want to watch the second one, so I put it in the dvd player. You understand."

"No. No I don't. Who could possibly understand that?"

This week I made a pot of coffee at 8:30pm on Monday. I organized most of my iTunes files at 10:15pm on Thursday. Why did I do these things? Because I didn't have a lovely wife to, very calmly with tons of patience, ask, "What are you doing?"

Along those lines, I don't have a reminder inside of me that says, "It's late. You're tired. You have to wake up in five hours. Go to bed." When Kelsey's here, I know I need to go to bed because she goes to bed. That's my reminder. When Kelsey's not here, I just find myself waking up on couches around the house. Thursday night, post iTunes organizing, I worked on homework and then...I don't know...I woke up at 1:00am on my basement couch. Substitute that situation with a similarly idiotic situation and replace basement couch with living room couch and you have my Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday.

Clearly, I'd be be a mess without Kelsey. She's the normal to my weird. I think it's about time she gets home. I've been very calm and had tons of patience, but I want (need) my wife back.

Home At Last

I love reading blogs.  My favorites update nearly daily, and to me, it's like a good book that never ends.  Throughout our journey to growing our family, I've become particularly fond of blogs about people in similar situations.  I'm drawn to stories about families forming, fertility, and adoption.

I often find new favorites by traveling down the link trail...a blog, to a blog, to a blog.  That's how I stumbled upon the doozy of a video I'm about to share with you.  This is a real family's story of bringing home their two newest children from Uganda.  If it looks professionally done, it's because it was put together by two of their crazy-talented friends. And no, those aren't actors - that's just their beautiful family. Seriously, I dare you to watch this video and not cry. 

Home At Last from dan owens on Vimeo.

Okay, so if you loved that mushy feel-good kind of stuff, and you have time beyond the daily 3 minutes you commit to reading our blog, check out their full story over at their blog.

Happy Friday, ya'll! :) 

P.S. - If you consider yourself in the self-proclaimed "I'm addicted to reading blogs" category- email me, and I have plenty more I can share with you! There's no shame in it.

Long Island Fridays

Long before Fruitful Fridays existed in blogworld, Jay and I had a college Friday tradition: Long Island Fridays.

They started in our yesteryear at Iowa State, (Jay's junior yesteryear... to be exact) when he met a dude named John. They both were business majors and took the same classes. They were both funny dorks. They both liked video games.  They both had amazing-beyond-belief girlfriends. They both had no interest in going out to the bars like typical college students.

So one Friday, the boys got together, ordered pizza, drank CocaCola with a dash of Long Island mix (or was it the other way around?), listened to music, and played video games. Thus, a friendship was born. 

 

After a couple of Fridays without their dorky boyfriends, the amazing beyond-belief-girlfriends decided they should be friends as well. And Jess and I got in on the pizza, the CocaCola, and ignored the video games completely.  Then, a tradition was born. 

We went on to spend many of our "Long Island Fridays" in college with Jess and John.  Of course not every Friday was pizza and staying in. We ventured out to movies, played late night kickball, tailgated, and took weird trips to Target where John and Jay tried to convince the other to impulsively buy more videogame systems.

 

Now, over the years, the four of us have done some growing up.  We've graduated from college, found jobs in the real world, became happily married, bought houses, and this fall, a baby was born.

Jay and I finally got to spend our first Friday since baby Strawn was born with Jess, John, and little Madyson this weekend. She giggled while we ate pizza.  She watched in awe as Jay and John played NBA Jam on the Wii.  And she chimed right in with some of her own babble while Jess and I gabbed for hours. Madyson's a great addition to the Long Island Crew!

The More Things Change...

With Kelsey being gone this week, I had to fill my time somehow. Normally I fill my time by talking to and hanging out with Kelsey...so there was definitely a void. I decided to call one of my good friends (who is now an illustrious veteran of our United States Marines) Justin and see him on Tuesday night.

Justin was arguably my closest friend in high school. At any rate, I probably spent more time with him than anyone else. Then college happened. I went to Iowa State (after a brief sojourn in Mankato). He went to Iowa. We've kept in touch, but going from seeing someone every day to seeing/talking to someone once or twice a year changes the dynamics of a friendship. No more is time able to be spent just sitting around in comfortable silence. Time needs to be filled with the act of, "catching up."

This was quite a change for Justin and me because we spent most of our time together in high school watching TV, and by TV, I mean WWF wrestling. Before you judge, realize that wrestling was insanely popular when we were in high school. I mean, the ROCK was still a wrestler and not a great actor in bad movies. Well for those of you that haven't heard (which is probably all of you), on Valentine's Day the Rock came back to the world of professional wrestling. Hollywood must not be making a Tooth Fairy 2.


Since Justin graduated (for the lack of a better term) from the Marines, he's been living in Cedar Falls for a bit while he looks for a job (if anyone wants to hire an intelligent, college educated Marine for something, anything, please let me know). This has afforded us the opportunity to see each other more often and move past the "catching up." When we talked about what we wanted to do after dinner, I mentioned that I'd DVR'd WWF from the night before--since the Rock might be on again. I asked if he wanted to watch it. He said of course he did.

He then mentioned another friend from high school, Brian, was in town. Earlier, I said Justin was arguably my closest friend in high school. The only reason it is an argument is because a case could be made for Brian. I occupied most of my time in high school with one of these two or both. I haven't kept in very good touch with Brian. I've received passing updates on his life from those who have kept in touch with him. But he was in town, so sure, come on over Brian.

Let's flashback to a typical (and by typical I mean every single) Monday night in high school. Justin would come over. We would turn on pro wrestling. We would worry about details of the show for some reason. We got very upset if the people we liked, lost, because it mattered for some reason? Brian would stop by at some point a half hour to an hour into the broadcast. He would pretend he wasn't interested in the show and start making fun of everything...even though he secretly liked it. We did all this in the confines of my basement. I'd be drinking water from this yellow cup:

The best cup ever. I have two. I'd pay top dollar for more of them.

Let's flashback to Tuesday. Justin came over. We turned on pro wrestling. We didn't really worry about the details of the show. We didn't even know who was winning or losing. It didn't matter. Brian stopped by at some point a half hour into the broadcast. He pretended he wasn't interested in the show and started making fun of everything...even though he was secretly enjoying it as much as Justin and me. We did all this in the confines of my basement. I was drinking water from the same yellow cup (which I stole from my parent's upon graduating high school).

We watched some other TV that night. We talked about jobs and adult stuff. We mostly just made fun of each other the way people do who like being around other just because. My understanding of the last ten year's of Brian's life are sketchy at best. I think he moved to California for a spell. He recently lived in Minnesota. Justin has been to Iraq and Afghanistan and done work he can't even talk about. He's lived in Texas and California. But there we were: the three of us in a basement, as if nothing had changed.

And really, nothing (and everything) has.

Baby Fever

In a few weeks, we will have a new itty-bitty neighbor across the street. We love our neighbors, and everyone in the 'hood can't wait for her arrival!

This Sunday, the girls of the neighborhood will hold a baby shower in her honor.  I've been working on the details with another neighbor of ours, and it's shaping up to be a fun afternoon!  As the snow is melting, and everyone is thinking of spring, it's not too difficult to find springy colors and girly details to add to the party.  Why is planning for baby girls so much easier than planning for baby boys?

The guys in the neighborhood also have plans for a "shower" (if you can call it that) to happen this Saturday.  They have been tirelessly planning their shower since, well, yesterday,  and no detail will go unnoticed, I'm sure. 

Here are some of the party details we've envisioned:

Invitations...

The Girls:

This was sent out a long time ago, ordered from a professional, created with care.

The Guys:

This was delivered via cryptic envelopes marked, "Open Soon: Time Sensitive Material Inside."

Food...

Girls:

fondue fun!

Scratch Bakery Cupcakes - to die for! 

Cookies and other desserts - they won't look this cute, trust me. 

Guys:

Uh...I like Mulligans

The OP is good...

Maybe head downtown?

Becks?

The decorations and details...

Girls:

Onesies and itty-bitty things

flowery and girl stuff

Bring your favorite children's book!

Guys:

Bring diapers, so we can pretend our night out drinking beer has something to do with the baby.

Clearly the guys have once again outplanned and outworked the women. We can't wait for you to arrive, baby Feldick! : )

Happy Early Valentine's Day

I like Valentine's Day. I fully understand that it's a holiday created by Corporate America with the sole intent of increasing sales of expensive items during the slowest shopping month of the year, but I still like it. The message behind it is good: tell someone you love that you love them. Be extra nice to the person you love. Eat chocolate. Drink wine.

Consumerism aside, why do we need Valentine's Day to surprise our wives with flowers? Why do extra sappy Kay Jewelers commercials remind us to buy jewelry? If someone in your life is special, really really special, shouldn't you be telling them that every day? It doesn't always have to be with words. I had a bad day at work Wednesday and Kelsey brought home supper right away. She came through the door smiling and cheered me right up. She knew I needed that. That's why she is my valentine.

I'm by no means saying people should ignore extra special traditions on "special days" (lord knows I've gone overboard a time or two on Valentine's Day surprises).  I just don't think anyone should let the "special days" be the only days that are special.

Happy Times

Kelsey and I are often asked, "Is it hard to be around so-and-so because they are pregnant?" The answer for us is no. No, it's not. Have you lived in this society? I think over half of it is pregnant at least ninety percent of the time. Even the men look pregnant these days. Kelsey and  I realized early on throughout this process that being angry or upset because one of our friends is pregnant isn't going to help Kelsey and I get any pregnanter.

I understand why other couples start to feel upset though. People seem to assume that unless we baby-strugglers bring it up, babies shan't be discussed. It becomes the forbidden topic. *whisper whisper* don't talk about babies with the schmitzes *whisper whisper* i just don't want them to feel bad right now *whisper whisper*

Please don't do that. You can talk to us about your impending and current babies. If you're pregnant, Kelsey will be the first one to offer to throw you a shower. I'll be the first one to offer to buy you a twelve-pack of vodka. That's not true. I'm a procrastinator. I'll probably offer to buy you vodka much later than some of your other, more prompt friends. We've been trying this long enough to know that this fertility stuff doesn't make any sense. You'll see a high school girl give birth six times to eight healthy babies while a married couple struggles and fights through monthly sadness. It can be hard. It can be very hard. That's what makes it a miracle. That's what makes it worth it. And we're certainly not going to get upset if someone gets their miracle a lit bit before we do.

The biggest thought I struggle with in all of this is...if Kelsey and I were upset about other people having babies, would that mean we wouldn't want them to have babies? That we would rather they deal with the same emotional roller-coaster ride we've been riding? We've made a conscience choice to be happy for other people, to share in their joy. When instead of thinking, "Damn it! Another baby will be born from an un-Schmitzian womb!" while shaking our fists at God or a tree, we've decided to smile, hug a person and say, "Congrats," and mean it. It works for us.  We can't control a lot, but we can control our attitudes.

I Throw My Hands Up In The Air Sometimes....

We had our first assembly of the school year today.  The cafeteria was crammed with over 500 kids buzzing about this and that. While our guidance counselor made some announcements, someone blared the speaker system with the song "Dynamite" and a group of about 10 older students came dancing into the room. 

This often happens at the assemblies, the 4th, 5th, and 6th graders perform a skit about the topic we're about to address. Today I couldn't help but notice among the dancers, one a little smaller than the rest. After a few minutes I recognized the tiny dancer as Benny.

Meet Benny. 

I have, he's a great kid. He goes to my school. Full of energy, cute as can be, everything a kindergartner should be.  But you know what kindergartners shouldn't be? Sick with Leukemia. 

Don't get me wrong.  No one should be sick with leukemia.  But kids? Especially not kids. 

In the next few minutes I learn our school will be participating in our own Dance Marathon to raise money for Benny and his other little buddies at the University of Iowa hospitals.  Our kids will purchase paper hearts for a dollar and fill our hallways with their love.  Then for a day, we'll dance nonstop to celebrate our fundraising.

The music blares again and all of the students are now "warming up" for our Dance Marathon Day by practicing their dance moves.  I know they don't fully understand why we're doing this.  But they're dancing happily anyway, and Benny's up front bouncing around like the rest of the kids.  Just like he should be.  Not in a hospital bed.  Not having chemotherapy.  Just being a carefree kid.

I was stuck on that thought and my eyes were welling up with tears when one of my students shouted, "Mrs. Schmitz! You're not dancing!"

So I bust a move like the best of them. 

 

I'll Pray For You

I had a coworker stop in my classroom the other day while my students were in music class.  We were talking about the afternoon's upcoming math lesson when out of the blue she said:

"Hey, I just wanted to let you know that I'm praying for you."

"Oh my gosh... thank you! that's so nice of you," I replied.

"No, really, I mean it. I told my small group your story and we pray for you every week."

I knew she meant it. I could tell by the way she said it.

How cool is that?  We're on somebody's prayer list.

I'm definitely a believer in the power of prayer.  I think there is something really awesome about the idea of friends, families, and even strangers lifting a situation up to God and leaving the rest to Him.

It got me to thinking, though. I hope that every time someone says, "I'll keep you in my prayers" or "I'll say a prayer for you"... that they actually do.  

I've heard the phrase overused and thrown around to the point where it can almost seem cliche'.  Have you ever had someone who told you "I'll say a prayer for you" and it seemed like they said it because it's what they thought they should say?

I hope not.  I hope every time you say "I'll pray for you" you mean it.  Because prayer can be powerful. 

So powerful that the mere thought of it can bring a teacher to tears when her students are in music class. : )

What Gives Me Hope

Since Friday blogs will be about our successes and struggles with growing our family, I thought I'd start off by detailing what gives me hope and confidence that everything will work out.

It's no secret that Kelsey and I were engaged twice before I ultimately convinced her to make me the luckiest man alive. I won't dive into what I call my "dark period," but I will explain something most of you might not know about the "light period" that came about soon thereafter.

Kelsey and I decided to buy a dog. Our parents did not know what to make of this decision. At the time, we didn't even live in the same town. We'd just gotten back together. Kelsey wasn't entirely convinced she liked me again (she was actually pretty sure she didn't). She certainly wasn't convinced she was ever going to marry me. But sometimes two people have to do something that no one thinks makes any sense in order to bring them closer together.

We perused the Internet, looked on now defunct websites, and found the perfect dog. It was a bright red cockapoo. We emailed the breeder and sent her our deposit check. We needed to wait a few weeks to pick up our new puppy, but the breeder sent us pictures. The dog appeared playful, shy but curious. Her red coat had a nice shine to it, consistent, with small curls under her stomach.

We'd named the dog Ruby. We even gave her a theme song: the Kaiser Chiefs song of the same name.

As Kelsey and I continued to strengthen our damn bond...

(Another example of the secret language of a marriage. Within about three weeks of Kelsey's and my initial flirtation we did what most couples do: focused on our similarities. Every time we brought up a similar thought or a similar interest or something we'd both always wanted to do it became part of our "damn bond." We said it then like we say it now: with a faked sense of resigned dissatisfaction, dismissing it as ridiculous. But the "damn bond" is more than a tongue in cheek joke between us--it's very real, and we're very lucky to have it.)

...we went out to dinner one night when I visited the Quad Cities. We had a great time. Eventually we went back to her apartment to watch a movie. While she put on her obligatory sweatpants and sweatshirt, I checked my email. The breeder had emailed us. Ruby was dead.

If any of you have ever tried to repair a relationship, there is this strange period of rediscovery where imaginary signs and inexplicable thoughts take hold. Everything becomes a sign from God. A warning. A message. In this case, a dog breeder letting us know our puppy was dead wiped away the good of the evening and gave way to talks of, "maybe we're not supposed to be together," and "what if this is someone's way of telling us something." Somehow, after some soul searching and probably some tears, we went to the website to see if there were any other good dogs. I forced us to do this. I was determined to win Kelsey back and erase anything that would have her think it was a bad idea.

That's when we found Dottie, our strange and bizarre little puppy.

Six weeks after that, I lived in the Quad Cities, and we brought Dottie home. Fourteen months after that, Kelsey and I were married and on a honeymoon. Two weeks after that Kelsey and I learned she was pregnant. One month after that the baby stopped growing.

The weekend we lost the first baby was rough. We didn't know what was going on. Kelsey had to deal with a huge influx and then fast exodus of all sorts of hormones. I needed to console a wife through something I didn't understand and that didn't seem real. On a Saturday afternoon, as the sun started to sink outside and the auburn fall light sneaked through our blinds Kelsey was finally able to sleep. The nightmare was over. She went to our bed and laid down, piling on blankets. I laid next to her and rubbed her back. When I finally heard her snores, I got up to use the bathroom. Dottie quickly replaced me in bed taking "her spot" cuddled next to Kelsey's stomach.

Instead of going back to bed, I sat on our couch and looked at our TV. The TV was off, but the dimming light in our room allowed me to see my strange, adult reflection. I stared at it for awhile and thought about how impressive and strong Kelsey had been that day.

Suddenly Dottie stood up on the bed. Dottie shook and stretched. She jumped off the bed and ran over to me. She jumped on my lap, wagged her short tail, and licked the top of my nose four times. Then she jumped off of my lap, stretched again, jumped back on the bed, and curled next to Kelsey and fell asleep. Both of them slept through the night. At some point, I joined them.

Every miscarriage we have makes me think of Ruby and that sweet moment where Dottie told me it would be okay. Ruby probably would have been a good dog. There is no way of knowing. Each time a miscarriage occurs I think, "I guess we're just waiting for the perfect kid." And right now as I type this, and I look at Kelsey reading something very intently on her computer screen with Dottie asleep on back of the couch, I can picture the couch filling with more faces. I don't know if the faces look like a hybrid of Kelsey and me or if they look like small children from Guatemala or China or maybe the faces are both hybrids and foreign models.

I've seen sadness turn into sustained happiness. It took us a while, but we got married. It took us a couple of attempts, but we got our dog. I love both. I'll love my kids too, however they may come. The important part is that we have not lost hope. We can see and we believe that our couch will someday be more full, and it's pretty full now.

Wild and Precious Life

Oh, Fruitful Fridays, I'm really not sure where to start with you.  So I guess I'll start with your name. When I think fruitful, I think abundant. And I want Fridays to be about taking time to revel in the blessings around us, doing more for those who have less, and sharing those deep-down feelings about the things that matter most to me.  Because at the end of the week the recipe that flopped or the chore that goes undone doesn't matter.  I want to take the time once a week and ask myself:

"Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?" — Mary Oliver

So yeah, Fridays could get sappy. : )