I smell pot too....

Ben and I took a leisurely walk to the park by our house yesterday. We played for quite a while, then headed home (much to Ben's dismay). I kind of had to coerce him by carrying him and pretending to be a galloping horse and singing Trot old Joe, trot old Joe....you ride better than any horse I know....trot old Joe.....all the while trying not to pee in my pregnant pants. We were about through the park and back to the street and I catch a whiff of the unmistakable smell of wacky tobacky....ie. marijuana. After a brief flash back to a Steve Miller Band concert, I say out loud, "Ben, we have to go, I smell pot." To which he logically replies...."I smell pot too mama. I smell pot too."

How young is too young to have the "say no to drugs (or I'll tan your hide!)" conversation?

On a side note, if you google "pot", you will find links to How to Grow Pot and How to Smoke Pot listed before anything about planting in pots, or pots and pans or any other kind of pot. HAVE MERCY...kids don't even have to know the sketchy 25 year old guy that hangs around the high school parking lot anymore. Lord....please protect the little ones.

boys

it is just settling in that I am going to have two sons. which brings the total number of boys in our house to three. and there's only one me. i'm feeling out numbered. and that i'll wake up one morning in the not so distant future and the "boys" will have used all my bobbie brown make up as war paint or something. and that my skirts will be turned into parashotes for life size GI Joe men. (is GI Joe even still around?) And that I'll slowly morph back into my girl-dressed-as-a-tom-boy, lost soul, bad hair self of the 90's.

then I dig a little deeper and remember that I was totaly void of guy friends growing up, i mean real friends. not just the ones that you were waiting to date. or dump. and kind of incapable of relating to the opposite sex on a healthy, mature, we're all humans you just have a penis, level. will this be different in parenting? will I be able to relate to all the stinky boys in my house? to be their biggest fan with out being the biggest nerd, wearing life size pictures of my child on my chest at football games. oh wait, my boys will not be playing football. WAY too dangerous! ...errrr....will I let my boys be boys? and help them grow into self assured, confident, loving men? oh I hope so!

how the story goes....

In July 1976, my parents leave California and moved to Texas. Two months later, I am born. There are no street lights in our little town of The Woodlands, only stop signs.

We spend hot summer days on my parents boat on Lake Conroe and I learn to ski before I can remember.

When I am 8 years old, I asked Jesus into my heart because my best friend Courtney did.

I go through a horribly awkward hair stage that lasted for a decade.

Dressed like Brenda Walsh, in colored jeans and a white v-neck t-shirt from the Gap, I enter high school in the fall of 1991 and experience my first physical signs of anxiety. I also become boy crazy and began looking for love in all the wrong places. Even though I know Jesus.

My senior year I try for a week to be anorexic but I have no will power. I also (clearly) do not have a healthy self image. It would be years before that developed. I do however have an amazing group of at least 10 girlfriends that I share so much of my life with. They are all incredibly smart, motivated, successful, gifted, kind, strong willed, loving girls and they challenge me to be a better person everyday. I am amazed but not surprised at how sucessful they all are today.

In the fall of 1995 I move to Austin to attend the University of Texas. The second largest school in the nation at the time. I miss my sweet friends dearly and am a little lost...ok, a lot lost.

December 13, 1996 a fire destroyes my college apartment. I am able to recover a few belongings, wet and mildewed. But lose a sense of security I have long held on to. I begin to question everything. I am lonely. Depressed. And watch a lot of Dallas reruns. Who shot JR?!?!

The following Summer (1997) I take a group of high school girls to Young Life Camp at Frontier Ranch and in turn, hear the Gospel of grace and forgiveness like never before. I rededicate my life to Jesus. And am afraid to go home, not knowing how to undo the mess I've made of college life.

Spring of 1998, God has slowly undone the mess, surrounded me with amazing Godly women, and begun to answer all the questions I'd been wrestling with for the previous two years. With His perspective, I begin to see where I was, the depth of my sin, when He lovingly called me into a relationship. My world and my theology are changed.

June 1999 I graduate from The University of Texas Business School, one of my greatest accomplishments in life. After 5 weeks back packing around Europe with my best friend Courtney, I pack everything I own and move to California to start a job with Hewitt. I live by myself at Park Newport Apartments.

December 1999, I move into a small house in Corona del Mar with Karin and Danielle and develop life long friends and am blessed by sweet fellowship and accountability. I discover I am really good at my job and enjoy God's blessings at work for several years to come. I find much of my identity and self confidence there.

September 2000, Tim Isom dies of a seizure in his apartment in Chicago. Although we dated for only a short time in high school, and I remember him as a friend more than anything, my heart hurt so much for his fiance, family and friends. He was a sweet soul. I clung to a bible found in the pew during the entire service. Occasionally looking down to read a Psalm. I still think of his sweet mom from time to time. He is still the only person I have known well to die.

The morning of September 11, 2001 I am at the gym when the first plane hits the World Trade Center. I watch live as the second plane hits the other tower. On my way home the Pentagon is hit and I hardly have the words to tell my roommates what is happening. I weap in the shower for lives lost and pray for our country and President Bush.

June 8, 2002 I meet a groomsman at a friend's wedding in Houston. Although completely sober that night, I have no recollection. You know, because I hadn't "planned" on meeting THE ONE on that short visit to Texas. Two months later, aforementioned groomsman e-mails me from Texas. A month later we have our first date in Newport Beach. He is conveniently in the area on vacation. 6 weeks and a hundred phone conversations later, we are in love and my sweet soul mate makes plans to move to California.

June 20, 2003 Greg proposes atop the Wrigley Memorial on Catalina Island. I respond with, "are you serious?!?!" You know, because I hadn't planned on being proposed to that morning. I am extatic and can hardly believe I have found such an amazing person that loves me the way he does.

February 28, 2004 Greg and I are married surrounded by friends and family...hundreds of them. My wedding dress is by far the most beautiful article of clothing I have ever worn.

Summer 2006, Greg and I spend endless hours talking, debating, and praying about moving back to Texas. At the time it was the hardest, biggest decision we'd faced together. God was present the entire time and faithful to reveal His will to us as doors opened and closed around us. I am thankful that we did put so much time and prayer into the conversation and confident we made the right decision...to stay in California.

March 10, 2007 Sweet Ben is born. He is little and precious. And my whole world changes. He is a happy baby and full of energy and personality at a young age. I live to make him laugh.

November 7, 2007 Judson Levasheff dies two months shy of his third birthday after a 5 month battle with Krabbe disease. My heart is broken for friends we barely know. For a boy we have seen just in passing at church. Greg and I spend hours and days and months talking, searching, praying, questioning, and turning to God. And I still ask, "why the children Lord Jesus?"

January 2008, I found out that I was pregnant and miscarry a week later. I am sad, but able to quickly move on and start to think about trying to get pregnant again.

February 2008, After years of careed identity crisis, I leave my job to go run operations for a small hair care products company and LOVE the change.

May 2008, I am pregnant again, but there are complications, and I miscarry a month later. My heart hurts. I am scared. And sad. I spend months reflecting, praying, wondering, hurting. God is faithfully present the entire time. As is Greg. Full of compassion. Four months later I become pregnant again and daily surrender my anxitey about the pregnancy to the Lord.

Today....I am 20 weeks pregnant, having a BOY and continuing to seek my sweet Lord Jesus for all thing, praise Him for all things and love him the best I can.

about me

i love Jesus.
i love my husband.
i love my children.
i love my people.
you know who you are.
i am endlessly searching, wanting, praying, repenting, hugging, cleaning, planning, eating, writing, laughing, chasing, listening, screaming, dancing, and rejoicing.

join me.

You didn't really.....oh I did (converation with Greg as I told him this story)

I have some girlfriends from church coming over tonight to play cards. We get together once a month for dinner, drinks or a fun activity, and inspired by my hours of card playing with the grammas over Christmas, that's what we're doing.

And, being at the top of my organizational game, in my second trimester, I spent much of yesterday preparing two soups for my family and girls game night. I have several learnings from this endeavor.

Do not make two soups you have never made before when you are expecting company. You're liable to be disappointed. Do not try using new kitchen electronics for the first time to make said soups. Enter the immersion blender. Purchased with coveted William Sonoma gift cards several months ago and just taken out of the box yesterday, only to find it needs to charge for 5 hours. But, being at the "top of my game" I had plenty of time and plugged it right in, expecting blending magic later that afternoon. The first soup was a Curried Corn Soup. The first four or five steps were simple. Chop. Drop. Stir. Simmer. Maybe I should go to cullinary school? Step six...immersion blend! Didn't go so well. It made a cool noise. And I looked just like my favorite contestents on Top Chef, but my concoction hardly looked like a silky smooth puree. I blended and blended and blended anyway. Next step....pass puree through fine mesh sieve. My puree looks like corn oatmeal and.... I don't have a sieve. I've been meaning to get one of those for quite a while. I have a 1/2 cup size hand held one, maybe that will work (for about 2 gallons of soup!)....maybe not. Plan B. Let me start by saying that 1. Ben was sleeping so my resources were limited and 2. I've tried this trick with wine before to strain out the cork. Enter: thigh high stockings. I mean, pantyhose (although a creation of the devil) are kind of similar to a cheese cloth, sort of, which can be used to seperate solids and liquids. And although my old roommate Karin and I had a ceremonial "burning" of the pantyhose when business casual went out of fashion, I did manage to find one pair of black thigh highs deep in my under things drawer. Which I most certainly NEVER wore to work but rather were a gift from my husband who I'm sure wishes I actually wore them once. Where was I? Oh....pouring hot lumpy corn "puree" into the top pantyhose...obviously! Let's just say it didn't work. Liquid too hot to work through hose. Hose too thick to allow soup to strain out as I'd imagined. Abort mission. Throw away thigh highs. Never to be worn!

About this time, Ben woke up and we ventured to target to buy a sieve. Strained the soup, and he loved it. After straining, it was really thin. Which I should have anticipated. I usually like a little thicker soup. Anywho, good flavor, especially after I embellished with shrimp.

Second soup, black bean. Also required the blender. Didn't blend well. Watery, chunky, black bean yuck. I put 1/2 cup of sour cream, lots of cheese, lime juice and fresh cilantro and served it to Greg for dinner. :)

PS. I have yet to find a household use for garter belts.

it's a....

BOY! They are going to tie me up and take over the house aren't they?!?!?

really I am SO excited Ben is going to have a little brother and we are going to have another son.

can you guess?

Just like that....I am 18 weeks pregnant. And many of you (impatient, love a good surprise but can't wait long enough for one) know that most Dr.s recommend a full blown ultra sound at this point in pregnancy to make sure everything is developing correctly. They measure the heart, lungs, arms, legs, and who knows what else. AND, if you want to know (even if your husband would rather not know, but you really really want to know) you can find out the sex of the baby. Yea! So Monday morning, 10:00 am, I will be finding out if our little turnip (approximate size of the baby at this point....I don't really know how big turnips are) is a boy or girl! And as I type, it occurs to me that I have not even once looked at the Chinese calendar, tied a string with my wedding ring around my finger and watched it circle, or go side to side, or any of the other super accurate ways to tell the gender of your unborn child. However I did ask Greg repetitively (daily for two weeks) if I could go visit the "Shady Lady" who for a mere $25 will give you an ultrasound and tell you the sex of the baby as early as 13 weeks. My friends call her the "Shady Lady" and I have a mental picture of some woman with a ultrasound machine in her garage and a line of barley pregnant women knocking on the side door like a Speak Easy offering up some password to get in. But, since I have waited this long, and my appointment is in two days....I will resist.

We're having a baby....

As I am slowly settling into the reality of being pregnant and barely fitting into my non-maternity clothes, I have started to allow myself to enter into the early stages of planning mode. I immediately starting thinking logistics (b/c that's how my brain works): Where will the baby sleep? Do we really need another crib or will Ben be ready to transition to a big boy bed? How can I avoid having two kids in diapers with out actually having to potty train Ben b/c that whole process sounds exhausting (and messy)? Even though he would look adorable in Thom@s the Train underwear...yet all grown up at the same time. What do you DO with a two year old while you are nursing a newborn 8 hours a day? Who did we borrow that life saving swing from last time?

Then (after hours of looking at adorable nursery bedding on-line), I start to think about maybe the more important questions. What will our family of four look like? How do you love and support a husband and two children in only 24 hours a day? (Who will mop the floor?!?!) How do you prepare a 2 year old to be a big Brother? Is this a futile effort? We have talked about the "baby in mama's belly" and I was starting to think he kind of understood until yesterday, when trying to express great delight with his dinner he smiled real big, rubbed his belly and said, "mmmmmm.....baby." Does he think mama ate a baby? This can't be a good start.

Maybe this week I'll start with trying to find a swing to borrow.

and a.....

nutella crepe with sauteed bananas and ice cream.

I might need to open a restaurant (in my kitchen) for pregnant women craving CRAZY good food.

everyone should have...

a Gramma Dorie. Most of you know that my Grandmother recently moved to California (from Texas) and is living with my Aunt, about a mile from us. Gramma Dorie spent most of her life in Southern California before moving to Texas to be near my family growing up. I'm not sure how long she intended to stay, but she was there almost 25 years. And for a beach loving, sun worshiping lady, that's a LONG time! I remember the DAY she moved to Texas. I was 6 years old, and I was having a birthday party at my house. All my friends were there. Cake. Presents. Everything a girl could ask for. But I was not interested. Gramma Dorie was on her way from California and would be pulling into the drive way later that day!! I just stared out our living room window, looking for her blue Datsun hatch back.

So fast forward lots of years....I have Sweet Ben, who Gramma Dorie fell in love with the first time she met him. And year and a half later, she's here in Costa Mesa. More specifically, at my house today during nap time so I could go to the market with out my Sweet Ben. And Tuesday she was here so I could go to a Dr. appointment. And she folds laundry. And plays cards. And mends holes in sweaters. And watches football games with us. And likes to talk with me. And is good listener. And above all else, she dearly loves my Sweet Ben and provides him HOURS upon HOURS of entertainment each week. Especially in the back seat of the car when we are running errands. She sits with him and talks and laughs and sings, and I run in and out of banks, post offices, dry cleaners....all with out having to unbuckle (and really buckling back in is the challenge) my almost 2 year old. She has taught him songs and rhymes and letters and numbers. Why am I so lucky? This, on top of Auntie (my Aunt Carol Ann) that is asking for Ben to spend the night every month! Seriously?!?! I have to be careful or Ben's going to start calling one of them mom.

did i mention....

that I ordered not one, but two pizzas from Papa Johns yesterday? And one day and about 10 meals later, I have just about polished both of them off. Thank goodness Greg pitched in and ate a couple pieces for dinner tonight so I did not have to admit that I'd eaten them by my self.

Do all pregnant women eat like this? And just not talk about it? Or is it just me?

I did have my monthly OB check up today and did not sound any alarms when I stepped on the scale, so.....what should I have delivered tomorrow?

shopping spree

I know some people are making wise financial "resolutions" this time of year...with the sad state of the economy, rising unemployment, home foreclosures, etc. But not me!

This week I bought:

A radiator. Which I was SO excited about. I mean, who doesn't want to spend a "nicer than any pair of shoes I've ever owned" amount of $ on a part for your car that you just assumed would work for ever? But had apparently cracked and started leaking mysterious fluid....everywhere. Yea! I LOVE my new radiator and will NOT roll my eyes in disgust when I have to pay the credit card bill this month.

A vacuum. Which I also thought would run forever. Which it kind of had if you consider my mom owned our vacuum for at least 10 years before gifting it to me when I moved to California 10 years ago. But it finally threw in the towel so to speak a couple months ago. Which was perfect timing with my first trimester b/c I didn't want to clean anyway. But the dust was starting to build so high the ceilings felt lower. Anywho....I did a Greg-worthy amount of research and bought myself a German engineered Meile vacuum. Top of the line. HEPA filter and all. It's like the BMW of vacuums. Maybe I should have bought a BMW instead of a new radiator and a vacuum.? Regardless, I take my cleaning very seriously (and miss my dear Lisbeth terribly!!!!) and couldn't resist getting the best and knowing that all the dust would be GONE (for a day or two before I needed to vacuum again). Greg will choke when he see's the credit card bill this month.

PIZZA on-line!!!! Did you know you could do this?!?!? It's like groceries but better b/c it's hot. I can't lie....I was sitting here watching the food network (shocker) and there was a commercial for Papa Johns...com! click. click. click. and 35 minutes later I am eating hot pizza. Terrible, I know. But I was starving. And it's Texas Football game day. And Ben is sleeping (was sleeping until the Papa Johns guy knocked AND rang the door bell) so I couldn't go get a hot pizza. So, I had it delivered. Having food delivered during nap time feels like something I should not do ever....or often....or very often.

highs and lows of our holiday vacation....errrr....trip

high: 7 nights, 8 days in Beaver Creek, Colorado. Snowy mountains. Loads of Christmas lights. Toasty fires. Warm blankets.
low: -7 degrees when we left this morning
high: Riding the snow cat up Bachelor Gulch mountain with Ben and my mom for lunch at Zach's cabin
low: Ben and I both making doctors visits for horrible colds that HAD to have been something more than a cold...but wasn't
high: 8 adults and 1 Ben in the house for days. Lots of down time for me...to enjoy my horrible cold.
low: wanting desperatly for more conversation with my family than I got
high: having my Alzheimer's suffering Gramma ask me the rules to a card game (that we've been playing since I was a child) every time it was her turn, and then beat me time after time after time after time.
low: getting ben's leg caught in a changing table railing at the airport on our way home (b/c I pulled him up too fast and was in a hurry) and then seeing him limp on it all afternoon.
high: greg taking one for the team and changing ben's dirty diaper at the airport (5 minutes after I changed an apparently not dirty one) and just throwing his shirt away b/c it was a dirty diaper casualty.
low: the realities of traveling on the 27th of December with a toddler and an 87 year old grandmother in a wheel chair. With 6 pieces of luggage. And a car seat. (and a tired pregnant woman) Through the Denver airport. Where they don't let you push your own wheel chair. But instead....you get to wait forEVER for someone to let you use the "Frontier Airlines" issued wheel chair...about 10 feet before they transfer the wheel chair passenger to a cart (which the rest of the traveling party is not allowed to ride on, even if they are pregnant and tired)...then back to a wheel chair....with 30 minute waits with each hand off.
high: finding an abandoned United Airlines wheel chair....throwing Gramma in....and RUNNING through the airport pushing the chair ourselves with airline employees, security guards and other travelers hollaring, hootings, pointing and trying to stop us....then ditching the chair at a nearby gate and pretending it never happened.
low: coming down off my 8 day Christmas cookie sugar high (and fudge and pecan balls and all sorts of other high calorie low nutrition treats that my unborn child was CRAVING!)
high: being home.
low: realizing we were locked out of our home.
high: greg breaking in through a window...that apparently doesn't lock like it should...while the house alarm was going off. Sorry neighbors!
low: starring at suitcases that need to be unpacked....eventually.
high: knowing that we don't REALLY have to travel again until next Christmas....maybe.

i object!

Oh....the highs and lows of the holidays. As mentioned in a previous post, I just LOVE Christmas cards. The excitement of getting something in the mail other than coupons (that I should be clipping but never do) and mountains of junk mail. This time of year I carefully sort through each piece, looking for a festive envelope, with a familiar return address or Santa stamp. Oh I get so excited. To me, it's a little "still thinking about you" from old friends. And pictures of little babies. And dogs. I love it! And some over achievers out there even include a Christmas letter with family updates, significant happenings in the past year, etc. My in-laws included such a letter this year. It celebrated young Chris' (Greg's little brother) graduation from UT. Brabara and Reid's trip to Italy and updates on the rest of the family. I was kindly mentioned in the second paragraph along with the words "stay at home mom." And that was it. "Lindsay is a stay at home mom." She rarely leaves the house. Is of little use to society, except to her adoring son Ben. Who is well fed and bathed daily. They do not do much of anything. Except stay home. And stare at each other.

That phrase just rubs me the wrong way. I've taken to telling people I'm between jobs...and can easily segway to the economy and feel relevant and smart. Even though I don't know how to spell segway even close enough for spell check to recognize and tell me the correct spelling. Ewwww. Ewwww. Ewwww.

I just feel like we are all so different. And we approach parenting differently. And manage our houses differently. And we have different strengths and weaknesses. Just like in the job market. I think there should be job (sub) titles that we can talk about. Like "creative director" or "CFO - in a recession!" or "head chef" or "landscape architect" or "family therapist." And there are all the things we do outside of the home. Bible studies. Spanish class. Play group organizer. Baby shower thrower. Gift wrapper. Meal taker. Really good friend to people overwhelmed with babies. (Sweet friends...I am describing YOU all!)

I'm feeling the need to write a "response" letter (to share with the Thorburn's Christmas card distribution list) including all the things and I (and Ben) do OUTSIDE the home. Please let me know if you would like to receive a copy along with my recently updated resume.

alive!

The fog in my brain is clearing! The nausea is subsiding! And after 6 weeks of thinking about it....I finally have the energy to actually start addressing Christmas cards. Or at least trying to figure out who I can get away with NOT sending a Christmas card to this year. Oh, I know that sounds horrible, but seriously, the list is longer than a ridiculously long wedding guest list. There are too many kids growing up and moving out of their parents houses....and do they get their own card now? Only if they are related? Or married? Or send us a card? Are there rules for this? Emily Post where are you?

Further capitalizing on my burst of energy this week (total exaggeration...I just got off the couch for an extra hour each day) I, along with the help of my 87 year old grandmother and 21 month old Ben (really just a happy spectator), managed to buy, load, transport, un-load (this was dicey!), drag in the house, and fully decorate 6 foot tall Christmas tree. Last Sunday (pre 12 week pregnancy mark) I'd told my husband I didn't want a tree, mostly because I didn't have the umph it was going to take to make it happen. But post 12 week pregnancy mark....and back to life....I was determined to make Christmas happen in our house this week! And we did! And Ben wakes up every morning asking me to turn on the pretty tree lights. Oh the joy.

This week has been filled with all sorts of other (not really) note worthy moments. But I must say, by far the most significant, was getting to see our little bean of life on an ultra sound screen Friday morning. There he or she was....arms flailing, legs kicking and little heart beating. It was the only thing I wanted for Christmas.