How did we get here? To Germany that is? By a big plane…clever aren’t I? I should just erase everything I have just wrote because it’s nothing but questions but I won’t because I don’t really care what you think. This is my blog and you are choosing to read it, and that’s just who I am.
Maybe you would take a little less offense of my “to the point” attitude if you knew a little more about me. (Note, here comes a long post full of migity (yes, I know that’s not a word but I like it) mush stuff so if you don’t like that kind of stuff you might as well skip to the next post…when I get around to writing it.
My life began as a little egg traveling down my mom’s fallopian tube when I decided it would be cool to share my world with a best friend, so I split. Neat huh? If you didn’t catch what I meant by that I’ll put it into easier terms for you…I am a twin, and I am older by five minutes so I determined that it was me who chose to be a twin. My identical (or so we think, although not sure since we never did the blood test) twin Michelle is a huge part of who I am. There are some pretty interesting stories from my childhood which will probably sneak in here and there throughout this blog, like the time we (my parents, older brother Calvin, and my twin sister Michelle and I) were visiting family up in the Sandhills of Nebraska and my dad decided it would be fun to give me a the lung of a crappi fish that he had caught and cleaned after a spear fishing trip with his cousins. I was running around the front yard of the “Main House” (yes, the family land in the Sandhills has a scattering of various houses each with their own name, such as the “Underground House” which was really underground, also the “Brother’s House”, and so on) with Michelle when the incident happened. I swore that he was handing me a brand new bar of soap. Hey, it was white and the size and shape of a bar of soap, plus who’s dad just hands them a fish lung? It wasn’t until I realized it was slightly squishy and slippery, and that my dad smelled of fish that I put two and two together. I threw that thing to the ground and went running off screaming like the little girl I was. Michelle, in the meantime, tried stepping on it to make it pop (those things are not easily popped!). Thanks for having fun on my behalf Michelle… The rest of the day I held my hand as far away from myself as possible to avoid the fish odor radiating from my hand even after scouring my hand with real soap several times.
Like the migity mush so far? I warned you…
Back to telling you about myself. Growing up a twin was fun, like the time we switched on our teachers in the 6th grade for April Fools day. I might dig deeper into that story later but for now let’s stick to me… In middle school I was the sports loving (I wore swishy atheletic pants most of my 6th grade year), smart kid, who was into music, from an upper middle class family, in a school full of kids from the other side of the railroad tracks, literally. The school was right next to a railroad track. It was a typical day for me to get picked on for one thing or another. High school was a different story, I finally found a group of kids that I could connect with, plus it helped that I finally had boobs… Boys actually found me pretty now being that I was athletic with boobs, which is a confidence boost, and confidence can get you places…like London. Being athletic had nothing to do with getting to London though, that was actually my music background. I found a passion for playing the oboe throughout middle and high school. Many people don’t even know what an oboe is so I was the one and only oboe player in my high school (which wasn’t a small school, I graduated with a class of over 500). I excelled at playing this instrument and even as a freshman I was asked to play with the Windensemble, which is the school’s top band. That year we went to London, as well as surrounding areas and Scotland. My brother and sister both played the string bass with the orchestra so they got to come too. My mom tagged along as a parent sponsor and we all had a blast (especially that one time my sister and I lost our room key so I decided to go out the window of the adjacent band member’s room and shuffled along the ledge until I reached the open window of our room. I was about half way in the window when my sister busts through the door to our room with a hotel staff member. I’ve never moved so fast in my life! I was back out that window hanging onto the ledge like I was 007 on a mission, theme song included).
Anyway…back to my high school experience. I’ve mentioned several times now being athletic but never said what sport I played, and I know its been bugging you that I have withheld that from you this entire time… SOCCER! Yes, I played soccer, and loved it. My spot was always on defense because I was kind of a bully when it came to the soccer field. If you were within a slide tackle’s reach, guess what…you were going down! Which is also how I ended my soccer career. She was coming my way with my goalie as her target, so with one smooth swoop I was down on one hip sliding towards the ball with success. She tumbled over the top of me and the ball was now mine. I got up and cleared the ball down field to our offensive line. It wasn’t until the ball left my foot that all the pain hit me and crumbled down to the ground. It felt like someone was stabbing my knee with a butchers knife. She had kicked my knee cap which pulled all the ligaments on the side of my knee like I was Stretch Armstrong. To this day my knee still gives me trouble even after rounds of physical therapy. This all happened when I was a junior, so then came a focus for a different passion…interior design. Sounds like a good replacement huh?
Interior design in a way found me. I had never really thought much about it until my guidance counselor in school tossed me into the interior design class so the school district wouldn’t take the class away. In Lincoln Public Schools, if a class isn’t regularly filled then they remove from the list of offered classes. That’s a good concept huh? Well I ended up loving this class so much that I had my sister take it as a senior so I could do her projects. Both years the projects won awards in the local Home Builders show. Go me…
This leads me into my college career. The local university has one of the best interior design programs in the nation, and is a part of the Architecture College. This was a little bit of a shock, but a good shock because I loved what I was doing, although it was tough and I had to work hard at it. Instead of picking paint colors and fabrics like in high school I was actually hand drafting building plans and building to scale models out of basswood. The first year was a breeze, but it was my second year where I came home practically in tears because I had spent nearly three hours at school and had only accomplished building a set of stairs. My dad, a mechanical engineer, knows building plans like the back of his hand so he took it opon himself to “guide” me through building miniature replicas. We were a pair, sitting there at the kitchen table building bookcases with tweezers and molding wood around bottles by wetting it and letting it dry to the shape of the bottle. It works great for making miniature curved vaulted ceilings. It wasn’t until my junior year after being accepted into the graduate program, that my life changed forever (why are my junior years so significant?). It was that year where I met the love of my life. He was a freshman, untraditional student (he was actually three years older than me but had spent 5 years in the army before going to school) who made me weak in the knees. Truth be told, the first time I met him I could barely bring myself to look at him in the eyes and actually stared at his shoes instead, they were mesmerizing shoes…mmmhmmm.
I won’t go into the mushy details of our relationship but I can honestly say that I had that, “he’s the one” moment, and I am still living that moment every day. Sean and I have had our fair share of trials in our relationship over the past almost six years, such as the death of both of his parents before our wedding, me rolling his truck on his birthday (I don’t recommend doing that as a birthday gift, it doesn’t go over well (no pun intended)), the downward spiral of the economy leading to my difficulty with finding work, and then there was the infertility issue. We had discussed prior to getting married that we were going to wait two to three years before having kids. Yeah…that didn’t last long, and it was actually Sean who convinced me to start trying to have a baby. And try did we! At first it was fun “trying” and I figured I would be a fertile mertle like my sister (I have a lovely nephew who was conceived rather quickly, he is a riot and I love him! She is actually pregnant again and in 9 days I get to know if the lovingly deemed “sea monkey” is a boy or a girl.), but a fertile mertle I was not. Here comes a deep dark secret and if you are a sensitive natured person I recommend skipping down this post a bit… We actually did get pregnant on our third month of trying but a week after reading “pregnant” pop up on that test, God decided he wanted to meet our little angel before we did. After the loss I was a moody witch for a while, I’ll admit it, but it’s not every day that you lose a baby so give me a break. My sister, and best friend Jenn helped me with the loss by soaking in a hot tub in the middle of winter with giant ugly stocking caps with yarn balls on top, and an oh so sweet bottle of wine that we passionately named “Juan”. Juan was good to us, yes indeed.
After the loss Sean and I tried all the fertility tricks to get pregnant again. I peed on sticks nearly every morning to see if my fertile window was coming, I drank green tea to help out my lady bits, I took my temperature every morning and put it into a fancy chart, etc., but when none of that was helping and it had been nearly a year of trying it was time to call in the big guns, or I should call him Big Hands. Big Hands was my special lady doctor who was the only man beyond my husband who is allowed to feel me up, in a professional way (don’t go all dirty minded on me you sickos!). He recommended months of testing which resulted in me getting over my fear of needles. I swear I’ve had enough blood taken to operate a small child. And the result of all those tests…? My body doesn’t like to pump out an egg like a normal woman. By the time it decides to shoot one out they’re already older than the dickens and not “good quality” for making a mini us. Big Hands recommend a series of magic pills which made lady bits go into overdrive, literally…my body shot out two eggs and Sean took it upon himself to ensure those two eggs were properly used, and walla! We got two minis!
The minis made their way into the world on the Ides of March at 36 weeks gestation, which so happened to be a few days before Sean’s spring break from the University the final year of his Masters program. Good timing huh? Our boys are literally our minis, Liam looks like a mini Sean with my nose, and Abram looks like me with Sean’s nose…its kind of freaky in a cute baby kind of way. Anyway, I ended up going back to work after Sean graduated and he stayed home with the boys while trying to look for a job which leads me to the ultimate reason for this blog. Sean got a job, and what dosey his job is! He landed an internship as an architect with the Corps of Engineers in Germany. With both our backgrounds being in design through the Architecture program it just seems to be the perfect fit. We always wanted to travel Europe to see the things we had only ever studied in books, and now we get three years to do that. The trick is doing it with infant twin sons. The posts to follow will be our adventure as new parents in a new world… I hope you enjoy!