dear future husband, part 2

Dear Future Husband,

I liked that last letter I wrote to you much more. You know, the one I wrote when I was certain you still existed. When I thought I had found you and then thought it again...and again. But I see now, that life is just too complicated being divorced, with children, at 36. It's too full of wisdom for us to be. I looked at my boys the other day and wondered when on earth they'd gotten so big?! I realized how, unknowingly, so much of my time, emotion, thoughts, and energies had gone into trying to find you, that 3 1/2 years had zoomed by. I thought you would complete us as a family again. I thought you would fall in love with my almost perfect boys and find them as absolutely amazing as I do. But, all the men I've thought might be you thus far have been afraid of stepping in to join our family. And I get that. I'm glad you told me. I would be miserable if the man I thought I loved didn't love my boys. We're a set, the five of us, a darn good one, too. But I know it's a lot. I've known that all along.

So, Future Husband, I'm going to have to ask you to wait for a while. Probably a long while. Like, my youngest is 5, so 13 years type of while. I need to give all of me to them. It's an answer I've felt looming inside me almost since the beginning but haven't wanted to accept. I hope I can find the emotional, spiritual, physical strength to do it...that's where you were supposed to come in, you know--the part where you become that source of joy and fresh strength and perspective, that trusted second hand, that manly example I so needed. But, I've managed to do it, just God and I, this far and I guess we'll figure out how to keep doing it. Improv-ing and improving.

I hope I'm still attractive enough in 13 years. I hope I still have enough spunk left in me to have some fun with you. I hope I haven't closed myself off too much to let you in when the time is right.

But, for now, I have to forget the picture of you hunched over a jewelry case somewhere, wondering what ring you should pick. I'm going to have to forget the image of you coming home every night, and me being so excited that I run out to hug  you while you're still in the driveway. I'm going to have to stop seeing you standing in a card aisle helping my kids pick out a Mothers Day card, or standing by the flower bins at the grocery store trying to remember if it was lilies or tulips I liked (it's both, by the way). No more thoughts of you and your too-small hipster t-shirt and goofy hat and gazes across the room meant just for me. And once I've forgotten all those images, I have to forget what it feels like to be held. The warmth and security of it. Or that dizzy feeling I get when I get kissed just right. I will need to forget how helpful it is to have someone listening to my silly dilemmas, someone on my side even if they don't agree. I will be ok buying my own Christmas and Birthday gifts. I will keep scratching my own back. I will wear socks to keep my toes warm in bed.

Don't you know you could have made all the difference in not one, but FIVE lives? Why didn't you believe I really am as good as I seem? Why didn't you believe my kids could really love and accept you? My Z needs someone who can throw the football better than I can. My E needs someone to watch his magic shows. My L needs someone who likes math and Legos. My J needs someone to wrestle around with and burn off some of his boundless energy. We all needed some extra spiritual bolstering you were capable of giving. Why didn't you believe that, had you just loved me, just given me a chance, there's nothing I wouldn't have done to make sure we built a strong, joyous, healthy marriage where we got most stuff figured out?

But, even more than I want you, Future Husband, I want God's will done in my life...and it just doesn't seem to be His will that we be together yet. I wish I could keep waiting and hoping and dating and seeing...but I just can't. My poor heart can't take it anymore. I can't live with the yearning of finally finding someone worthy to be you, only to have it not work--either right away or (worse yet) after I've fallen deeply in love with you. My boys, they can't take good men like you coming in and out of their lives anymore, either. I swore I wouldn't be "that" woman doing "that" to my kids...and I won't be.

I won't.

So, keep working and growing and increasing your cache of cheesy jokes, Future Husband, and, if you're out there wondering where on earth I am, too...and you're willing to wait for me....we'll find each other one day. I promise. And we'll understand perfectly why it all had to work the way it did.

With all my heart,
~Jennifer

bumps in the road

A few days perspective since my last post...and I admit I'm still afraid. BUT, the blessing of  a little time, prayer, and  words of encouragement from those who are always so generously mindful of me have gone a long way to making me feel hopeful again.

You see, when you're dragging emotional baggage/damage from past experiences around the way I am....sometimes bumps in the road can seem more like catapults.

And I hate admitting that. Because I really do feel strong, healed, healthy, happy, forgiving, loving, loved, and able to trust 98% of the time. But like a combat soldier still rattled by sudden gunfire or the thwapping of helicopter blades, so too, do I have things I'm learning trigger my repressed fear. Things that make me throw up a wall as quickly as I can to keep from being hurt.

Dr. Yummy and I hit the first bumps in our road...and necessarily so. In fact, I was starting to worry that things were too ideal. I mean, I loved it, but I know that's not real life either. He expressed some concerns and insecurities--ones I fully expected him to have--but they still scared the bejeebers out of me. I didn't want to be hurt or rejected again, even though those were not his intentions, it just brought up a lot of yucky emotions from my divorce, from past relationships that ended less than ideally. It intensified the strain of my unemployment and reminded me again of how scared I am without family to lean on, how alone I really am or could be in the worldly sense. I did a lot of nothing but crying and feeling sorry for myself for a day and a half, feeling very heavily my own vulnerability.

I got angry at myself for falling for him so quickly. For getting swept up when I didn't mean to get swept up. For letting myself look too far forward and assume too much. For the complicated nature of being 36, divorced, in the midst of rebuilding my life, following my dream of becoming a writer, poet, and professor, and having 4 kids that tend to get as easily swept up as I do. I got especially angry at God for continuing to give me such wonderful things, situations that come together ideally and mercifully, only to seemingly yank them back and say, "ha! ha! Pscyh!"

All of that was and is me doing defense.
                                               defense.
                                               defense.

There's more to the story,too. Not about Dr. Yummy, but about me and things I'm struggling with in my life and in my testimony. Things that justified the intensity of my last post.

Anyway, long story short--we decided not to give up. Not yet. We figured out how human both of us are, even humorously borderline neurotic at times. We learned some stuff about eachother's weaknesses. We figured out (hopefully) better ways to communicate with one another. We threw fear out on the metaphoric table in front of us for the first time and gave it a good, hard look.

I learned just how quickly my wounds can be re-opened and what I need to do to seal them up a bit better.

During the awful first days of my separation, I remember my beloved, stalwart, usually quiet father-in-law just weeping and weeping, holding his face in his palms, apologizing for the actions of his son. He said of he and Mom Peterson's 50 plus year marriage: "Marge and I have had our share of fights, bad ones even, but I was never afraid that when she walked out the front door, she wouldn't come back."

That's what I want.

That easy, safe understanding of knowing, no matter what, you can count on that person you love the most to come through. You can trust them. Explicitly. You know they'll tell you the truth. You know they'll always be cheering you on. You know they'll be doing their part to make sure your marriage stays strong, just as you are. You'll be there for eachother. Happily. Willingly. Peacefully. You may not always like them...but you'll always love them.

I think it's worth waiting to see if Dr. Yummy and I can find our way to that point. And, just like I said in the post where I introduced you to him...if it doesn't work out, I'll have no regrets for trying. For walking, without fear or distraction, for once, towards the thing that has made me the happiest I have been in three and a half years. 

Thank you for your prayers and encouragement. Once again, you've made more of a difference than I can express.

Here's to pressing on...and on still.

friday fotos: foto roulette

L was sitting on my lap this morning while I was looking over my blog, and he said, "where are all of the pictures?" Which reminded me...it's been a long, long time since I've done a Friday Fotos post. So, for today, I thought it would be fun to just open up my picture files without thumbnails and choose 8 random pictures from all different time periods (my computer files go back to 2003), and see what I come up with...


This one made me smile right away. Here is the same L who sat on my lap this morning, a big boy all ready for school....only this was 7 years ago, when he was just learning to sit up :)

This one was from just last spring--hiking with Ninja and the boysquad. This is a pretty famous hike to go on around here, ending with a spectacular view of the valley....and this very worn out bench :)

My Z and E...back when I tortured them with bowl cuts. This was after finishing a homeschool lesson. What wonderful days these were...

 My sweet baby J in his binky days....

This one is from the vacation the boysquad and I took to Mammoth Lake with Haute Cakes and his family, August of 2009. We were sniffing the bark of a special, high-elevation redwood that smelled like butterscotch :)

Here I am spinning my baby L at the park...before my hair went gray :)

The "mantle" wall of my old house, probably 2004. It took me 27 hours of painting to create that stucco-like texture. And I remember that art project on the table I was working on--using paint swatches long before others figured out that they're free and fabulous :) I also made the dining table with my now deceased Grandpa. It wasn't big enough for my new house and growing family, but it still waits in my garage for the day I can re-make it into a desk. Love it.

Guess I couldn't have played roulette with my pictures and not come across one with Brad. This was the last family camping trip we went on. I think he and J were listening to a football game on the radio.

And finally, one of my most recent favorite pictures. Dr. Yummy and I at our date to a live taping of Prairie Home Companion. And yeah...I'm as happy as I look :)

And that's all I got folks! Get out there and do some ~Happy Weekending!~

jumping out of my comfort zone...voluntarily

Isn't that a nice title for a post? I especially like the *voluntarily* part. I like that I have not been forced out of my comfort zone, nor pushed, nor drug from it. I guess I'm even impressed that, for as crazy and undecided as my life is, I even HAVE a comfort zone to begin with. But I do. And although it has been a very different place at different times of my life, it has always been there.
I decided it might be time to move out of it though. It was time to chase a dream.
It was time again to see what I could make happen. This is the how and why of it...


I have lived in Idaho nearly all my life, just a short drive away from picturesque pine-dense mountains lining twisting, churning, frothy rivers. ~A sportsman's paradise.~ And yet I have never been whitewater rafting. I remember my mom and brother going several times, so I don't know if the invitation was never extended to me knowing I was too busy, or if it was and I just turned it down. Anyway, rafting was not in my plethora of experiences. And I was honestly ok with that. I've never been on a roller coaster that goes upside down either and don't feel like a lesser being. But, Dr. Yummy has been rafting and loved it and thought it a shame the boys and I had never experienced it.

He didn't force. He didn't tease. He didn't beg. He just suggested. And a week or so later...

That's me in the bandanna with the look of joy on my face, Z in front of me, E across from me, and Dr. Yummy in the conductor's cap taking up the rear next to our guide (and also some dude from Chicago riding on the front with his 25-years younger girlfriend in her purple string bikini hiding behind him because she didn't want to get wet or paddle...yeah...they were delightful or something).

And guess what?

I had a blast! I would do it again in a heartbeat, string bikini girl and all. Although I make sure I'm always having new adventures and adding to my cache of life experiences, many of them, I have realized, are still adventures of my choosing-- great, but all relatively within my comfort zone.

So I stepped back and considered my life under the lens of this new realization. Was there something I really wanted but was afraid to try?

There was.

Remember back in January when I worked myself to the brink of complete mental, physical, emotional, and creative breakdown getting my application in for the MFA program in addition to mothering, working, and taking 25 credits? And then remember how I got rejected come April? That was rough. Really, really rough. Yet, I have begun to see the why and how of why it needed to be--the happy jumble of blessings that have come as a result, including becoming an even better writer as I had another semester under my belt to learn and read.

But you know what? I still want to get into that MFA program. I am terrified to try again, and I am honestly happy where I'm at right now, but what if....what IF I jumped out of this comfort zone and just saw what happened if I tried again?

So, I got to work.

With only a week left until school starts, one of my good and incredibly talented professor friends invited me to TA for his Fiction class--guaranteeing my continued and needed exposure to teaching, reading, and writing. Then, on a whim, I asked permission to take a graduate level Poetry course. NOT easy to get in to--those MFA students are a tight, exclusive bunch. But, I sent some samples of my work as requested by the professor and...guess who will be taking a Masters-level Poetry class starting next week? If you guessed me, you're right :)

So, with the much appreciated support of Dr. Yummy, I'm making one more aggressive run at getting into an MFA program...just to see. The worst that can happen is that I'll be pitched off the metaphorical raft and into the roiling, summer-warmed water and I'll float around, laughing and enjoying the sunshine, until someone yanks me up by my life jacket and pulls me back into the raft.. And I can think of worse places to be :)

the story of dr. yummy, part 3



the face of a happy woman...as taken by Dr. Yummy


Well, you may not think this post as exciting as the last two, but I promised it would come...

After declaring our love for one another,where are Dr. Yummy and I now? In a good, good place. Publicly claiming one another in a relationship. Having so much fun together. And waiting to see.

I'm sure it would have made for a lovely fairytale had it ended with a proposal...but I'm glad real life doesn't always follow plot lines. Because, in real life, it has still only been a little over a month, and Dr. Yummy and I--though quite smitten--have a lot yet to learn about each other. A lot more memories to make. A lot more belly laughs to share. Probably a few disagreements to resolve at some point. Families to meet. Memories to swap. Etc, etc.

And while there are no red flags for me, I realize I am probably DRAPED IN THEM for him seeing as how he could go out and snag himself a much younger, much prettier, never-been-married girl as opposed to the 36 year old divorcee mother of 4. But, I'm really happy he decided to choose the boys and me anyhow. To give us a whirl and see what happens... He sees the best parts of me.

I know what I have to let go of to allow myself and my life to get slowly tangled up with someone else's again--mostly the fear and anxiety that come with trusting after having been deceived to the degree I was in my marriage, and the hurt I've experienced and learned to dread and avoid several times in relationships since.

Also, I have come to realize just how much of my identity is enmeshed in being a strong, single, super-woman and mother. For as difficult as it is and as much as I would still love to find "the one", there is a great deal of strength I have drawn from being able to do so very, very much on my own. From having all my spare non-kid/work/church/housework time to devote strictly to myself and developing my talents (and shoe shopping :) ). From the way such a situation has produced some of the most powerful fiction and poetry I've ever written. And especially the strength  in letting God take over the major male role  in my life.  Now, I work to find that balance of holding on to all the best parts I have cultivated over the last three years--my increased spunk, determination, fearlessness, skill sets, and spirituality-- and temper them with the blessings of letting someone else in. Of letting him help out when I need it. Letting him carry a bit of the emotional burden. Of letting him into my world, my thoughts, my tiny circle of people whom I trust implicitly.

**And trying not to be too scared in doing so.**

I fully believe the risk is worth it. If it works, it works, and will be like a dream come true. If it doesn't, I still feel like I'd be able to be grateful for the experience, cry it out, pick myself up, and eventually go on with no regrets.

I guess that attitude comes from feeling so strongly that this thing with Dr. Yummy is....different. Terrifying and yet perfectly safe at the same time. I can't really describe it beyond that.

So, again, we wait. We see. I will return you to my regular blog postings on humorous flashbacks, attempts at writing, and  the struggles and hilarity of single life (because although I have a boyfriend, I am still "single" enough to not kid myself that he's going to sweep in and suddenly make everything easier. We still live in two separate places and maintain the healthy degree of autonomy and independence we need to). I promise to update you on us from time to time, and who knows--maybe I can even get him to write a post sometime. He's got good stuck in Katmandu/ cadaver/ women who come into the ER at 3 am to hit on doctors stories :)

I've found myself a nerdy-cute, longboarding psychiatrist who donates time to orphans with AIDS, who works to meet my children on their level, who takes amazing photographs, and who will drive through an automatic car wash in his convertible with me...because I tell him I think it will be fun. As far as I'm concerned, right where he and I are at this moment deserves a big, fat, "and they lived happily ever after..."

The End. :)

p.s.  No...I'm not making any of this up :)

the story of dr.yummy, part 2

**Part 2...I should be charging y'all a quarter a read. This is good stuff :) **

I decided if Dr. Yummy was worth taking a chance on --I needed to see how he interacted with my kids, not only for my sake, but his as well. We're a package deal, remember, the boys and I. Someone can like me, but to really make it work, they need to be able to like all the parts of me, including the four best parts. I know it can be a little overwhelming--four boys(!)--so I needed at least a sneak peek into his patience and capabilities with children. Did I mention he's never been married? And he's three years younger than me? Yeah. BUT he is from a family of four boys, so I was really hoping he could handle it. Like really, really.



I took him with us to a dutch oven cook out a friend of mine puts on regularly throughout the summer in the rural-ist location you can imagine. It's the most unglamorous event, full of dust-covered, sticky, hyper children having fun doing dusty, sticky, hyper-y things. Including my own children. Dr. Yummy passed with flying colors. He soothed my crying J after a fall and helped me doctor up his scrape. He pushed L on the tire swing. He rescued Z's football when it got accidentally thrown into the creek. Not to mention the fact that he pulled at least two spiders off my back at various times that night.


We had now gone out 7 or 8 times, had hours worth of phone conversations, settled comfortably into one another's presence...but he still hadn't kissed me.

Hadn't even tried.

I thought at first maybe that meant he didn't like me the way I thought, but that was quickly replaced by the reassurance that somehow it all still felt right. Like, it was this magical thing we could just keep anticipating. Like he was courting me :).

We thought it would be fun to go to a drive-in movie--nostalgic. There was a chill in the usually hot, latenight July air, and a distant storm flashing lightening about in the dark clouds.  It had been so long since I'd been to a drive-in, I'd forgotten that you needed to bring lawn chairs and blankets and other things to be comfortable. So, he and I attempted to get comfortable in the opened trunk of my van. Not an easy task! I ended up having to kind of snuggle close and put my head on his chest. It was the only way we'd both fit...yeah...that's it....the only way :) The movie was the X-Men prequel and it was pretty bad. At one point, we were both laughing at how bad it was ("Mutant...and proud!") when we happened to look at eachother and things got suddenly quiet. I kind of nuzzled his nose with mine, playfully, to break the tension, not expecting anything, but....he kissed me. Short, simple, sweet, but WOW!!! Lightening flashed somewhere in the distance. Or maybe it was just inside of me...

I was a goner.

Although we had not declared we were in an exclusive relationship, he became the only person I really wanted to spend time with. I was walking around with this goofy smile on my face all.the.time. What I liked most was that I didn't feel like there was some type of game to be played--that I had to keep constantly chasing him or running from him to keep him interested. He just seemed to like me for me, and I felt the same way about him. We liked eachother...equally. Easily. Knowingly.  **And that was such a nice feeling.** One I hadn't experienced with anyone since Haute Cakes or Ninja. And there were no huge red flags or obstacles that kept me forever second-guessing moving things along despite liking him. Shared faith, shared values, shared sense of humor, living in the same place, plus varied enough tastes to keep things interesting. Beyond that initial spark of chemistry over his looks, I loved how brilliant, yet funny,humble, and down to earth he was (he finished his undergrad work with degrees in Anthropology, Zoology, and English, and could have easily thrown Portuguese in there...but didn't want to overdo it :) ). He can fix anything.  He loved that I was creative, and quirky, and spontaneous, and kind. He thought I was a great mother to my boys.

One night, as he was helping me to vacuum my floor (yes, he was actually vacuuming...without being asked!), I had to go up and pinch him just to make sure he was real. He said all the right things. He did all the right things. He was just awkward enough to be believable, but still pretty darn perfect as far as I was concerned.

Then the words started to come. He "like-liked" me. He was "very fond of me." He "wished that he had more words to express how he felt..." I was returning the sentiments. We were tip-toeing around the way we really felt...just making certain. We both wanted to say it. We were both feeling it.

We were in love.

**Part 3 to come....maybe :) **

the story of dr. yummy and how he stole my heart

On our second date (which I had convinced myself was NOT a date) we went to a cool retro candy store to buy me assorted gummi things. While there, I spied one of those old "love tester" machines where you squeeze the handle and a red light flashes up and down then lands on what your *love rating* is--anything from Gooey to Spicy.  I put a quarter in and made him try it, joking "let's see if your superior education and medical training can save you now?!" And he scored a...Yummy. Thus, I started referring to him as Dr. Yummy. But let's rewind a little bit. This is our story so far:

A little over a month ago I got a message from a friend telling me that she had a friend who had a friend who would be moving to my city from Seattle and would I please show him around? Did you catch all that?

I was fresh off the heartbreak of Mr. Perfect and not looking to date anyone for a long, long time. But, what I was being asked to do was not to date but to show a stranger around, right? And I love to show off all the great places my city has to offer, so I said ok.


And he arrived with a week to kill before starting work finishing up his last few years of medical residency. Yes, he's a doctor. A psychiatrist. (Don't laugh :) ).We decided to meet for lunch and I made a mental list of entertaining stuff to tell him about. I didn't anticpate him showing up at my work looking all adorable in his Decemberists t-shirt and curly hair and smile that lit up a room.

In fact, I didn't look at him much at all that first date. I didn't want to like him. I listened to him talk, trying to edit out all the stuff he was saying that I agreed with, or that we had in common, and all his fabulous stories of adventures in the medical field and traveling abroad. I repeat--I did NOT want to like him. Things don't go well when I like someone. So, lunch ended and I paid, just to make sure it wasn't a date. Afterwards, I texted him a list of all the restaurants, concert houses, bike trails, and entertainment spots we'd talked about. Thanked him. And I thought my duty was done.

Two days later, he asked if he could take me to lunch to return the favor. Dang!....I hadn't considered that whole "reciprocate the favor" thing. I was going to say no, but he also threw in the fact that he had a '68 International Scout that needed driving...I am a sucker for vintage cars. And a vintage car that could also run over stuff? Um, yes.

I agreed to go.

I also made the mistake of looking at his Facebook page and noting that yes, he was as cute as I remembered. And yes, we did have a lot in common. And oh. my. heck!, he has a picture of himself playing with AIDS orphans in Thailand? Seriously?! How does willpower compete against this?...

Then he showed up for our second lunch "NOT DATE" in a quirky hat. And I love quirky hats. But I was not going to like him. I was certain of this.



By our third lunch date my stomach did this roller-coastery thing when I saw him, and I was getting very angry at myself for liking him. So, I started saying yes to all these other guys who had been asking me out for months trying to run away from what I was sure was another case of unrequited love in the making. I was going out on some form of a date almost daily. It didn't work very well. I would be with them...thinking about him.

He went to a costume-themed, all white party with me. He didn't laugh at my dorky dancing. He toasted a marshmallow for me. He drove me home and talked with me till 2 am.

I was still just showing him around. I wasn't going to like him.


We went to a movie together. Super 8. It had scary parts. He thought maybe I needed someone to hold my hand. I let him. But it didn't mean I liked him. Not even afterwards when he put me behind the wheel of his gorgeous Lexus and told me I could drive it. Fast. (Did this man know that my heart and cars were attached?!) He gave me a big, warm, lingering hug goodnight. He told me his childhood nickname and told me, if it was necessary, I could call him by it. I went to bed thinking about him that night. I woke up thinking about him. I think I liked him.

He asked me to teach him how to longboard and show him how to make gingersnap cookies. He came to the grocery store at 11 pm to keep me company while I bought cat food and hair color. He listened to rambling stories about my pioneer ancestors. He subjected himself to the barage of questions when he met my favorite like-a-mother-to-me sister-in-law. He brought me purple tulips. I think he liked me back.

But I've been wrong about these things before.

**Part 2 to come...at some later date**