dear me 20 years ago...

Twenty years ago, on July 5,1994, Brad proposed to me. It's not a hard day to remember, being the day after 4th of July. We were in Portland, visiting his brother and sister-in-law after a long spring and summer apart, with him working on his family farm and me staying behind at college to work at the frozen yogurt shop.

Twenty years ago today, I was saying yes to my forever, so happy I wanted to shout to everyone how in love with this man I was. Today, I was texting with the same man about shuffling around child support payments while the boys are visiting him for the summer. 

I woke up earlier than usual this morning, my throat dry and sore from all the smoke ingested last night, my heart racing from a bad dream. I quietly put on my running clothes and shoes and slipped out of the house to fit in my five mile run/walk before the day got too hot.

On my way home, I stopped at the store for groceries and a big glass of cold water from the Starbucks kiosk (well, and maybe a piece of the pumpkin bread too...). I sat at one of their tables and drank slowly, suddenly picturing myself from twenty years ago sitting with me--both of us as surprised as the other over such an unlikely meeting. Nineteen year old me asks if she can ask me a few questions. I say yes.

Q: Why is your hair so red?
A: Because it got so gray. Don't worry, you'll learn to love it and it will remind you of Grandma Annie and Grandma Engen and their fearless red hair.

Q: How did you get so fat?
A: Because right now, dear, even though you're just starting to realize it--you  have an eating disorder. 103 pounds is not a healthy weight for someone of your height and frame. See how all your size 2 clothes hang off you? We've also had four boys--big ones. But we run five miles almost every day, including today. See how muscled our legs are? See how we still have a nice chiseled waist? You'll still get down on your body sometimes, but it has treated you well and carried you through a lot, so be kind to it. And go eat something that's not air popped popcorn, for goodness sake!

Q: What is that you're looking at?
A: It's an "iPhone." I'm looking at something called "Facebook" on the "Internet." It's basically like having all the world's knowledge in your pocket, but you'll have to sift through a lot of dumb stuff, too. Use it wisely. Don't let it dominate your "offline" life. And please "duck face" as little as possible, ok?

Q: Where are we? 
A: In a grocery story in Huntington Beach, California, where we live now. Just three miles from the beach. Sniff the air. Can you smell it? The ocean smell is everywhere.

Q: Why did we move to California?
A: We followed our heart. We're really good at that. It's why we're still writing, too.

Q: Where is Brad?
A: Well, he's not here. It's a long, sad story that I don't want to tell you right now or you may  not go through with marrying him--and you HAVE to do that because there are four of the most amazing spirits waiting for you to get them to Earth. I won't lie, the next twenty years of your life are going to be some of the most beautiful and most excruciating you will ever pass through. You will have to hold to your faith like it is the only thing that will save you, because it will be. You'll feel so alone at times but you're not, not really. And in the end, I promise all you have will be enough. You will be so loved. And so wise. And though you may wonder at times if you made the right choices, if you could go back and change things and do things differently--just let it all go. No need to fret about things you can't change when you've tried your best. Feel the air passing in and out of your body in the moment and know it's all worth it. It is.
  

Six Years

I woke up from a horrible dream last night in which I had lost this entire blog due to lack of use. I think that has  actually happened to a few people, and I *have* gone from posting daily to weekly to monthly to oops! I missed a month, so it wasn't an entirely unbelievable dream.

And golly gee! Did it ever hurt! Can you imagine losing almost seven carefully documented years of your life? I guess that A. I need to find a way to back up or print this priceless piece of my history and/or B. Get writing more, buddy (!)

April is a good time to catch up here. Both it and August are months that I mark major changes: The start of my single life, the anniversary of recovering from Rheumatic Fever and living with a heart condition and PTSD. Surrendering to God's will.

Naturally, the sting is lessened each year, sucked into the daily mechanism of my blessedly normal life, and spat back out as a twinge of pain and reflection instead of the all consuming beast it once was. I am different. In mostly good ways, but different nonetheless, and I am glad to forever have a record of where I was and am at these intervals in my life.

Year 5

Year 4

Year 3

Year 2

Year 1

So, where do I sit in year six?...

Still happily (re)married to the most perfect-for-me man in the world, happily mothering six amazing souls--I wouldn't change any of it. Except the pee around the base of the toilet, but I know there will be a time in my life I will miss even that.

I have had to face some emotional/physical damage from my previous marriage and even some junk that happened to me when I was single, but it hasn't been impossible, especially when I have such a kind and patient spouse who is dealing with some of the same things himself who is willing to listen and talk. We try not to lose too many days to dwelling on what was. Our trust in one another, in our future together without tragedy, continues to grow.

Another difficulty has been letting go of the things I knew I would miss about single life--namely regular intervals of time to myself. Though I always hated sending my kids off to their dad's for evening visits and every other weekend, my mind and body became acclimated to having that time to throw myself into my writing, my housework, my physical exercise, and my social life. I got ahead in these times, recovered my introverted self, and was able to get back into parenting revived. Caring for seven other individuals in various capacities and for a home that seems absolutely unable to keep itself clean, while working and homeschooling and taking very few breaks has had its chew-me-up-and-spit-me-out moments. I have put on weight without the time I had to devote to trail running and kick boxing (and those post break-up depressions that left me without an appetite, but I don't miss those at all!). I have a dozen stories written, awaiting endings or middles or editing. My head is full of ideas that there just isn't enough time to get down. Most of my wants are trumped by the needs. I haven't had a haircut in nearly five months because I also don't have the money I once did to spend just on myself. The heels are all worn off my shoes.Sometimes my husband eats my ice cream... ;-)

All trivial and easily forgotten most days. Not all of them--I'm still human, but hardly worthy of complaint and easily compared to the struggles of wives and mothers everywhere.

On top of those things, I'm still adjusting to my new home--trying to build friendships in a place where most people already have friends, and where the well was already semi-poisoned against me depending on who was team my husband and who was team his ex-wife after the divorce (I hate that, but it's a sad reality all divorced people have to face). I'm looking for new writing friends, always. None yet.  I miss Boise like a dull ache that never quite goes away, but, again--if you asked me to go back, I wouldn't. A visit would be nice, but I'm committed to blooming where I planted myself. 

I learned this weekend that I am made of eternal stuff and therefore resist endings. I am always finding a challenge or a handful of challenges to force me to the next level. It doesn't mean I'm not grateful at all times, always, just that I am not really happy until I am pushing and being pushed up against by that next big thing. 

I feel absolutely certain I am in the right place, surrounded by the right people, that I need to be to get me chasing that next dream. And, now that I'm one post down, I'm also certain I won't be losing my blog and can move back to dreaming about all my teeth falling down and having to remember high school drill team routines.

all is calm, all is bright

I received a blog comment in my inbox the other day: "Where are you? I miss your adventures!"

Had I really gone more than two months without posting? Did I really let Z's 16th birthday go by without mention? Mr. Perfect's book deal? Thanksgiving? My first anniversary?

Yes. Yes. Yes. And yes.

Though, credit be to me, I did record them all in my journal. Which is an accurate reflection of my life lately: Less public, more private. Though "The Peterson's Go Private!" just doesn't have the same ring to it, I know.

But, for those wondering, for those who have kindly, mercifully stayed on this journey with me all these years, I will step forward from time to time, even if it feels less familiar to do so.

Mr. Perfect and I celebrated one year of marriage on November 24. Our brilliant children surprised us by covering our entire kitchen with white paper hearts bearing the sweetest (and funniest) messages of love and well wishes. I couldn't imagine any better gift!

In many ways, marrying was as much a trauma as getting divorced was. Not in the heartbreaking way, but in the way it was a complete life change that I couldn't have possibly prepared for. I was ready to leave behind my dream house, my city, my jobs, my friends, my place of belonging...but I didn't really KNOW how that would feel day after day, especially when so many unfamiliar things get scary in the sort of way that makes me cry, "I just want to go hoooooome!"

Both of us came into our union a little tweaked from damage done to us in our previous marriages, and it is a process to learn trust, to not let small things trigger large fears. We've been gentle and forgiving with one another, partnered with God and are willing to let time prove our character, and that has made all the difference. I truly couldn't ask for a better friend, companion, helpmeet. So much laughter, so many smiles, so many moments I could live in forever!

Over the last year I have slowly learned where I am in my new world. Learned to navigate the 405 (but only going south), learned what grocery stores sell the best this and that, the best spot for body surfing on the beach, best vintage clothing, best places to go running. I went to the garden store and learned the names of all the plants and flowers that grow here so I could give names to things I was seeing. I learned to call a "neighborhood" a "tract." I learned the slight but distinct flow of seasons in a place that at first seems like an endless summer.  I learned that there are a lot of homeless people here and no shelters and so they sleep in vacant lots and on bus benches but that doesn't mean they are dead and so I don't need to call the police and report a body... (true story)

I hope soon to discover who I am in my new world. Self-defining and achieving was such a major part of my being single. Now, my time has returned largely to my family and home--homeschooling, more children meaning more housework and cooking and errands and activities, and the boys with me nearly all year instead of spending two weekends a month with their dad. And sleeping! Oh, the comfort in being able to sleep more than 3-4 hours a night again. It really is all so wonderful!  But, I still have a desire to write, to be amongst other writers, to contribute to the literary community. Some days it feels more hopeless than others, or I let it bother me more than it should. I feel lost and unimportant.

But between Heavenly Father and Mr. Perfect telling me differently, the feelings pass quickly. I know what I want, I know what I am capable of. What will be, will be. I will make it happen or let it  happen, but there is no reason to abandon the dream simply because the route changed.

I also  hope to continue to help my boy squad heal and adjust. The last year was both thrilling for and hard on them, too. We grew closer together, learned a lot about each other's weaknesses, weathered a lot of culture shock. It's been hard letting them all get so big and independent, but I am also proud of the young men they are growing into. I am happy that Mr. Perfect is able to take on a friend and mentor roll with them and their father can continue to father them. I'm glad they are learning what it means to get along with sisters. It is a weird new "family" but thank goodness scripture is full of weird families that worked.

Sitting here now, late at night--the house quiet, the washer and dryer whirring, the Christmas tree glowing, I feel to echo the sentiment that all is calm, all is bright. My heart is at peace.  I see the challenges ahead but anticipate good things. I knew that re-marriage, even to the most perfect man for me would not be the end to trials in life. There would still be stormy waters to row...though what a blessed thing not to be rowing alone anymore.

 

I sleep, every night, in heavenly peace.

seventeen years

Today would have been my 17th wedding anniversary. Sometimes I wish I could forget the date, but I had it engraved inside Brad's wedding band the day I bought it with my hard-earned-working-at-the-college-frozen-yogurt-shop money. It said: For Time and Eternity, 12-28-94. I'd heard men often forgot their anniversaries, so I figured I'd just make sure he had some record of it on him all the time. His ring frequently became entertainment for us while waiting for food at a restaurant, or waiting for a turn during Scrabble. He or I would slip it off and spin it like a top. I saw that engraved date a lot. It will, sadly or not, never just be "another day" for me.

It doesn't hurt this year though. Maybe I said that last year...I don't remember. I just know that my break up with Dr. Yummy taught me a lot about how far I've come in parts of my emotional healing. When he broke things off, I was completely crushed. I could only compare it to the hurt I felt when Brad left. Yet, when I really consider it--it was nowhere NEAR as painful as that was. What it was, was equal to the *softened* version of how I now remember my divorce. Pain dulled by years, good happenings, and priceless experience and faith gained as a result of being single. The Dr.Yummy break up was significant, another little turning point showing me where I'd been and where I'm at now--and the amazing, heart-warming/wrenching distance in between the two points.

Funny that it's raining today. It rained on my wedding day 17 years ago, too. No one wanted to take after ceremony outdoor pictures with us. Only my mom followed us around with an umbrella, removing it from over my head long enough for the photographer to snap a picture, then putting it back on. Bless her heart. The rest of our friends and family went across the street to our catered after-wedding lunch. And they ate it all. Yup. By the time we got there, there was one sad, solitary breadstick left for us to split. We went through the Wendy's drive-thru on our way to check in at our hotel. Good memories. Funny memories. It really was one of the happiest days of my life and will continue to be so independent of anything that happened afterwards. But does feel like it happened much longer ago, to a different person. Or that maybe I dreamed it all,or wrote it in a story. One observation: I generally feel so youthful, happy, and drunk with possibility that I laugh to think I could ever be one capable of celebrating a 17th wedding anniversary. Only the face in the mirror reveals I'm not as young as I feel :)

Seventeen years after saying I do as a nineteen and a half year old who thought herself ever-so-mature, here I sit--on lunch break at one of my five exciting jobs. The blessed mother of 4 beautiful boys. Still close as I can be with the Peterson family. Comforted by the support of wonderful friends. Fueled by the dream of writing. Pained, at times, to see pictures of my ex-husband with his new family, but comforted by the fact that God is aware of me and has put some wonderful opportunities and people in my path. One day, someday, I'll start over again with a new guy, and a new date, on year one. All good things in time. And it feels like I've got plenty of time.

a night to remember

diffuser on the blow dryer:
shiny red shoes:

gift card used for something pretty: I think someone has got themselves a hot date!..........

that would be ME!

Each year for our anniversary, Brad and I go to the Mona Lisa fondue restaurant. Here it is:
It was hard to hold still enough without a tripod to take this picture. The entire place is lit only by twinkle lights and candles. How's that for romantic?
Here we are enjoying our chocolate course (the final of FIVE courses of the best food in the world. Good thing I don't eat like this every day!). You can see a bottle behind us. In it are the secret love letters we wrote each other last year. So sweet! We wrote some more this year to read next anniversary (they save them at the restaurant).

We also went to see National Treasure 2, which I loved--but I'm kind of an American history geek, so I don't know if my opinion counts for much!

It really was a night to remember.

happy 13th anniversary to us!

OUR STORY

how we met:

Once upon a time there was girl. She was attending college. She thought all men were jerks. (this would be ME). Then, at the start of winter semester, a new boy moved in across the street (this would be BRAD). I was interested right away, but so were all five of my roommates. (We all thought he had beautiful blue eyes, a great smile, and talent coming out his ears). Unfortunately, Brad also had a girlfriend back home. I thought my chances of catching his eye were slim to none. Still, we became friends. We watched movies. We listened to music. We grocery shopped. We talked. We laughed....a lot. Then, come March, he broke up with his girlfriend. Then, come April, he asked ME out. (Hooray!!!)

how I knew I was in love:

Our first date was to a nature park. We went hiking with another couple. It was getting dark as we headed back to his truck--his spanking clean, nearly new Chevy Silverado truck that he washed every week faithfully. I wasn't watching where I was going and I stepped in a big mud puddle. My Doc Marten boot was covered in black, slimy mud. It was the first time I had revealed my extremely clumsy, very un-perfect side to him. Most guys I had dated up to that point would have acted very put off, and probably made me and my muddy boot ride home in the back of their pristine truck (which is why, incidentally, I had thought all men were jerks!). Brad laughed with--not at--me. He helped clean me up as much as possible and let me ride home next to him--muddy boot and all. He even bought me pizza. Sounds silly, but I knew from the "muddy boot" incident on that I was in love.

how it ended (and began):

He had to propose twice. The first time he asked, I panicked. I thought I was too young. I thought I hadn't seen enough of the world. I thought I needed to establish a career first. Then I spent a few months kicking myself for saying no. I thought he'd surely move onto someone else. But he stuck around anyway.....and he asked again. And I didn't feel so young anymore. And I knew I'd seen enough of the world. And I knew there was no way I could go on in life unless it was with him. We were married for time and all eternity Dec. 28, 1994 by Brad's father. Through the ups and downs of seven homes, five jobs, four boys, and one orange cat--I think we have had a very happily ever after.

So Happy 13th Anniversary to my sweetheart who:

Brings me ice cream every Saturday night.

Tells me I look beautiful even when I first wake up and my hair is all crazy.
Will still be a big goof with me.
Takes me on a date once a week (and doesn't he clean up nicely?!)
And is the best father in the whole wide world.

I LOVE YOU! -your Jennifer

*Funny choice of music to accompany this post, I know. But I loved old re-runs of the Partridge Family in college. I bought their "Greatest Hits" CD and took it to Brad's apartment to listen to on his monster stereo. He stuck around and listened to it with me. What a keeper!