Missing Texas

Home is sweet. As soon as we walked through the door I felt my entire body exhale. It’s good to be back in our beds. It’s good to be back by our neighbors (two of my favorites helped me carry in all the bags from the car in one trip—a fete that is rather impossible when attempted alone). It was even good to greet the pile of laundry in the hallway.

But we will miss Texas. We will miss the pool. We will miss the produce (the best cantaloupe and avocado I’ve had in a long time). We will miss the escape from ‘real’ to do lists. But most of all we will miss the husband.

Tonight Atrain ran to the door and swung it open when he heard that dada was on the phone. The husband usually calls around quittin’ time, and Atrain loves to greet him at the entrance to our apartment building. I tried to explain to him that dada is still in Texas. His face scrunched as he screamed, “NO! Dada will be home in five minutes.” I tried again to tell him that he is still in Texas. Atrain repeated his “NO!” response. He is very tired from the plane ride yesterday, and almost everything was a battle today. It didn’t take long for me to become exhausted with explanations about how “it will only be three more weeks.” So I just stopped trying and let Atrain believe that “NO—it will be only one minute!” I sure wish.

Like a Pig

Today I took the boys to the zoo. It was a great Texas adventure. There were bathing baby elephants, an albino American alligator, gorgeous greenery, and an incredible collection of serpents. But between exhibits the boys' attention always turned to the hot, humid, Houston heat. “Texas is SO hot…my legs are feeling tired…I need to ride in the stroller,” was Atrain’s chant. Jdog was without a mantra, but his big sweaty rolls and blushing cheeks spoke heaps. But we pushed on and enjoyed an afternoon of animals, play and especially profuse perspiration. It was zoolicious. I felt like a little pack of wart hogs: darting in and out of the shade, hiding in cool caves, craving the opportunity to roll around in mud. I’m just glad we weren’t on display behind plexiglass. It sure felt good to jump in our water hole when we got home.

It Could Have Been Worse.

Today was sort of a bad day. It’s hard for my time in Texas to go sour when my daily “to do” list consists of taking the husband to work, swimming with the boys, exploring with the boys, kicking around vacation laundry, squeezing in a run at the apartment complex’s gym, cooking a quick dinner, playing with the boys and the husband, and then occasionally doing the dishes—but only if I feel like it.

However today—the day that our ‘days remaining’ became less than the ‘days enjoyed’ in Texas—trouble was out to get me. Plenty of people thought they would go for a mid-day run right when Atrain and I wanted to use the treadmills. And, because I doubt other gym-goers would appreciate watching the Disney channel and sharing equipment space with a three year old and a rug rat, we opted to swim instead.

So, there we were: Atrain anxiously dancing around while I tried to strap on his water-proofed cochlear while caging jiggly, wiggly baby J between my legs. It was a hard task, and when it was through I was happy to let Atrain hop into the pool with his inner tube while I sat nearby, smearing sun screen all over Jdog. Atrain has become quite the little flotation-assisted swimmer in the past week, considering that I can count the number of times the boy has been to the pool before this trip on one hand. We had a hard time taking him to swim, knowing that it meant sans-sound for him. He loves to hear. Whenever he’s without the CIs he’s (of course) still the same kid, but he sinks into himself—unable to adequately communicate with the world around him. This is where the cochlear critics begin to salivate as they imagine how beautiful it would be to barbecue the parents of this poor implanted child. But if only they knew Atrain. If only they could see how much he loves laughing and conversing with his cousins, how much he looks forward to having his own violin recital, how incredible it is to hear him “read” his Star Wars book, “A long time ago in a galaxy far far away…” And if only they could see how happily he swims with his 'waterproofed' cochlear. Yesterday he spent at least three hours in the pool, playing all sorts of games with his new Texas best friend PJ—a friend he would have had a much harder time bonding with if they didn’t communicate in the same language.

Now back to my sort of bad day. As I lathered up baby J, I kept a close watch on the new little ‘swimmer’ (who still needs to learn how to swim). I tossed Atrain his squirt gun, and as he reached forward to grab it he somehow slipped out of his tube. Instantaneous panic. I immediately jumped into the pool, latched onto Atrain’s arm and pulled his kicking body up out of the water. It was only a matter of seconds and he was fine, thankfully, but we were all quite shaken by the moment. (Including baby J, who was certainly shocked to enter the water with me at such a speedy rate). I sat Atrain down on the pool steps as he coughed and blinked with wide, frightened eyes. I did my best to be brave as I talked us both through what had just happened. After a few minutes he said, “I held my breath and went under like Dada, but I don’t want to do it again.” I don’t ever want him to do that again either, and am not planning any more pool trips without dada. But, in order to avoid experience scars, we cautiously proceeded back into the pool. Within a matter of minutes he and his inner tube were kicking their way with me around the pool.

My phone, on the other hand, is not the greatest swimmer. It was in my gym shorts when I darted into the pool. And, on our way to the Sprint store to look into a replacement, one of the struts on our car popped. The right passenger side composed a catastrophic clanking and cranking symphony all the way to pick up the husband. Better put that on the ‘to do’ list tomorrow. Oh well. I sure enjoyed being with the husband and the kiddos tonight. And really, who cares about a dead phone and a broken strut when all I can think about is how today could have been worse. Much worse.

A Texas Weekend

Dear Elder I,

Well, it is hot! And humid. As soon as I stepped off of the plane in Houston I felt like someone had forgotten to turn off Texas’ shower. Thick, steamy air wrapped ran its fingers through my hair, making a mess of the curls I had arranged early that morning to impress the husband when I saw him for the first time in two weeks. Not that he really cares. He would have beamed with the same sweet crooked smile whether or not my appearance drooped with humidity and exhaustion. It was so good to see him.

It is strange to be in this state, knowing that you are just a three hour drive away. As we drove through the city I half expected to see you riding your bike along the busy roads. But I’m glad that I didn’t. I don’t know what it’s like where you are, but the cars here don’t leave any room for a couple of missionaries to pedal from appointment to appointment. And, what’s with the mandatory left turn signal? And, why isn’t there a right hand turn lane? I do kind of like how Texans hang their traffic lights horizontally. And, I love how helpful everyone is here. If I ask for directions in the grocery store or within a park, people insist on walking me to my destination. There is a southern charm about this state. I’ve never been called “mam” so much in my life, and I adore driving through different residential neighborhoods to admire old southern homes with wrap around porches and columns. The vegetation kind of confuses me. It seems swamp-like and wild in some places—overgrown trees with sweeping branches mixed in with coniferous-looking varieties that look (to me) like they belong in the mountains. But in other places, the plants are perfectly trimmed and coifed, arching elegantly across the roads, inviting me to come explore. When the husband was worried about what I would do with myself while he worked the week days away I told him not to worry because exploring is one of my strengths. I do enjoy having my sense of structure thrown off. It’s surprisingly refreshing.

We have had so much fun exploring Texas together this weekend. On Friday after the husband came home from work we all went to an Astros baseball game with Glenn, our good friend from high school. Glenn took his boy, PJ, who is exactly Atrain’s age. It was a three year old’s paradise. PJ and Atrain immediately bonded as they ran amuck, stomping on and slapping every baseball-like image in sight. Then they made their way through the stadium seats, dancing to the stadium organ music and chasing each other up and down the stairs. It was a bit challenging to corral them in when we got a few dirty looks from more serious baseball fans. Luckily there weren’t many—dirty looks, that is. Most enjoyed their unabashed excitement for the baseball scene. The night ended with the top of the Astros dome rolling back for our Friday night firework viewing pleasure. The boys loved it. Jdog sat calmly in my arms, watching the bursts of colored light with wide eyes. Atrain sunk into his father’s arms, soaking in the dancing explosions. It was one of those family moments I tried hard to carve into my memory.

Saturday we were off to Galviston to visit Stewart beach. It was our first exposure to the gulf coast. I loved Galviston. I wish that I had a whole weekend to wander around its roads and snoop into the historic homes that dot the streets. It’s amazing many of them are still standing after Hurricane Ike just a few years back. We made our way to the crowded shoreline, and despite the throngs of people and the miniature sandstorm coating our sunscreen in a layer of grit—it was an awesome afternoon. As soon as we got Atrain’s cochlears waterproofed (swim cap + aloksak bag), the husband carried him into the waves to “surf.” Jdog and I sat happily on the shore, playing in the mud. Jdog’s first instinct was to grab a first full and shove it into his mouth—an act he clearly regretted, as he didn’t try it a second time. But, he did enjoy feeling the warm, salty water tickle his toes. Our little family just sat there on the shore for about an hour, enjoying the ebb and flow of the ocean, listening to each other giggle as we played in the mud, watching the little clams dig their way into the sand. I’m trying to let that feeling dig its way into my memory forever. Then, we ate out at Chili’s—much to the husband’s dismay. Saturday is supposed to be “local cuisine” day, but I had a sneaky feeling Atrain wouldn’t enjoy a tray full of crawdads. Or maybe that’s me. Either way, I think we had enough adventure for the day.

On Sunday we went to church wish Glenn’s family. Sometimes church is hard with a 6 month old (can you believe Jdog is already 6 months). He’s not in nursery, is usually tired, is always hungry, and inevitably needs to change his entire outfit (because of a poopy diaper) at least once before we return home. I spend most of the three hour block in the mothers’ room, or wandering the halls. But, it’s worth it. Even if all that I get to do during church is take the Sacrament and dote, without distractions, on my baby--it’s definitely worth it. And, that’s exactly what I did during church yesterday. Somehow Jdog learned the funniest little snort trick; he crinkles his notes and breathes quickly in and out of it, producing small happy snorts whenever he’s excited about something. It couldn’t be any cuter.

Speaking of cute, Atrain has somehow been misinformed that our apartment is Texas. It’s so funny to hear him say, “let’s go back to Texas now,” whenever we are out and about. I’ve tried explaining to him the idea of states, but he’s determined to believe that Texas is where his Dada lives right now—which is the little one bedroom apartment we are renting for the couple of weeks. But don’t worry, I’m sure that as soon as the husband comes home, Texas will return to being where Uncle JD lives right now.

Well, my dear, I must go. The boys will be waking up soon and I can’t wait to greet them. I am blessed to have three sweet boys to nurture and care for in life. I sure love them. I want to be a better mother and wife for them. I know God can help me do that if I work harder to do the small, simple things that mean the most each day. I always need to be working on strengthening my testimony. We have a good friend we have known for a while who stopped going to church because he doesn’t think he has a testimony any more. Harold B. Lee said, "Testimony isn't something you have today, and you are going to have always. A testimony is fragile. It is as hard to hold as a moonbeam. It is something you have to recapture every day of your life.” I want to work harder this week to do that. I sure love you. I’m so proud of you. I’ll keep an eye out for you while I’m exploring this great state, though I know it’s doubtful that I’ll see you. Keep up the hard work.

Love,

MJ

PS- Have you tried Blue Bell Ice cream? Heaven. It’s definitely our biggest discovery in the Lonestar State. You must try it. Pralines and Cream is a dream.

A Grump

I didn’t feel like writing tonight. Instead, for some stupid reason, I felt mad. I felt like locking myself in my room so that I could complete a few sets of sit-ups without the three year old using me as a trampoline. I felt like arguing with the husband about whether or not it was silly of me to expect him to use his “daddy voice” when an overtired Atrain is beating up on me. I felt like throwing my first awesome, adventurous Texas day down the garbage chute so that I could avenge my misconstrued sense of self.

So, instead of writing about my first impressions of the lone star state; instead of explaining how much I loved listening to Atrain converse and tease and giggle while swimming with his CI on in the pool; instead of trying to describe how awesome it felt to cook for our completed family; instead of embellishing the day’s stories about how cute it is to watch Jdog’s crawling exercises, I’m just going to put that all on hold while I take a time-out for being a grump.

Nighttime Daydreams

It's 4:49 am. I'm going to bed after a few hours spent researching waterproofing methods for cochlear implants. We plan on spending a lot of our Texas time at the pool in our sublet apartment complex while we wait for the husband to finish work every day. And, I really want Atrain to hear me when he's all wet. I've decided to try out the LOKSAK option--they advertise that their sacks can protect electronic devices underwater in depths of 200 ft. Not that we're enrolling Atrain in Navy Seal school any time soon. I wonder what it would be like to hear through a plastic bag.

I just called the husband. I hate going back to an empty bed. One of my favorite parts about waking up to work on random projects in the middle of the night is hearing the husband sleepily say, "hello beautiful," when I return to bed. Now, unless Jdog starts sniffing around for a midnight snack, I have absolutely no motivation to go back to sleep. Maybe I'll stay up and keep making Texas packing lists, or keep researching tips for flying with cochlear implants, or just keep writing about my mid night day dreams about the husband. Or maybe i'll just try calling him again. I sure do miss him. Only two more days until I get to see him. Can't wait to return to his side.

Almost Here

Last night we google chatted with the husband for a couple of hours while getting the kids ready for bed. The husband watched Jdog roll around on the floor, listened to Atrain tell him about how he was dizzy yesterday, and followed my frenzied mind as it puddle jumped through the thoughts of the day. We even brought dada’s digital image into Atrain’s room for our bedtime routine. It was almost like he was here.

But I do miss telling the boys that it’s time to settle down every time dada’s tickle hands attack at bedtime. I miss dividing the round-up of Atrain’s nightly necessities: a “grununga” bar, a cup of water, a toothbrush and collection of toys. I miss watching him rock baby J in the plum recliner just before I carry him off to his crib. I miss resting my head on his chest as we laugh and/or cry about the events of the day when the boys are asleep. I even miss annoying the husband with my subconscious footsie playing. I miss him.

Taking my Heart to Texas

The husband is driving to Texas. He took his road bike, his best dressed work attire, the new 'Texas tie' Atrain bought for him, an assortment of canned soups, one of Atrain's toy cars, his fathers' day gift (a bike trainer), a port-a-crib for when we come to visit, his new phone charger, scriptures, audio books, caffeinated beverages, a hopeful disposition and a huge chunk of my heart.

I don't know how we'll get along without each other. He will need to learn how to feed himself and I must learn how to keep my brain from slipping out of my skull. I'm going to need a lot of duct tape. He is going to need a lot more canned soup. Even if we find ourselves at the end of the next eight weeks with empty heads and a starving stomachs, at least we'll have two hearts full of love. The husband will love that cheesy line. Eat it up, honey. It just might be the best thing you digest for the next two months.

Be Brave

The husband leaves for Texas tomorrow. I’ve had a really hard time keeping myself together all week. It’s been a really busy, rather stressful week: double bookings and schedule conflicts galore; no real time to soak into moments with our family together. On top of all that, I’ve been losing things, important things. And, even though I eventually found everything I lost, I still feel like I’m wandering around looking for something…my brain, maybe. Or my heart. Or both.

Today at lunch when the husband finished one round of tests we sat together as a family, talking about Texas. My emotions started to spill over as I watched Atrain and the husband tickle and tease as they always do. “What’s wrong, Momma?” Atrain asked. I sighed and said, “I’m just sad Dada’s going.” Then asked, “Are you sad, Atrain?” He responded matter-of-factly, “No.” The husband and I exchanged a funny look, wondering what could possibly be going through his mind right now. I pressed the question further, “Why not?” He looked up at us and said with such honesty, “I’m not sad because I’m brave.” He is brave. Once again, I’m reminded of how much I have to learn from my son.