Our Story, Part 3...

This is Part 3 of Our Story.  To get the complete story, read in order starting with OUR STORY PART 1 and OUR STORY PART 2.

I've been feeling for a while that I need to write down Dean's and my story for our family history books, for our children and grandchildren to know and understand how their parents/grandparents ended up together.  But I realized that I needed to give some back story because there are some key people along the way that set me on some necessary paths to get to Dean that will help you to understand who I am, how I've changed over the years, and why Dean is the best man I've ever met and how he's perfect for me.  I didn't want to write a short love story "We met at church, dated, married, had a baby 3 years later....", that's too vague for my tastes.  I want my posterity to know WHY I love Dean, and why we go perfectly together.

Our Story, Part 3

My beautiful friend was in a horrific car accident on her way back to Pullman to Washington State University.  She was lucky to be alive, but her fish that was going along for the ride wasn’t so lucky.   She was unable to walk due to her injuries so once she was out of the hospital she ended up going back to live with her parents to have them take care of her at their home in Federal Way. 

She was a resilient and headstrong young lass so she ended up developing these Madonna-esque ripped arms from pulling herself around on the floor, her arms making up for what her legs could not do until much more healing took place in them.  Her house was a split level and there must have been no less than 14 stairs to make it from the bottom to the top floor. 

 I remember going over there for the first time since her accident and we had to go from the bottom to the top floor and I thought I would have to pick her up, she weighed probably a buck twenty, and I would just wisk her upstairs lickity split.  But she looked at me like I was crazy and just put her back to the bottom step, put her palms flat behind her on the next stair up, and hoisted herself up until her bum was on that step. She basically did half of a dip 14+ times over to make it to the top step and then she continued to pull herself to her couch, bed, table, etc. and could pull herself up and onto them.  Pfffft, who needs legs?  

I was having quite a rough week, one of those weeks where everything that could go wrong did. I was done and I just wanted ONE day to myself where I didn’t answer the phone, I didn’t have to see anybody I didn’t want to, I didn’t have to deal with any drama.  I just wanted to be alone.  So I selfishly chose to make that day Sunday and skip church and just hunker down at home.  

Then my friend called on Saturday.  “Hi, Michelle.  I was wondering if you could give me a ride to church?”  Well crap.  Who am I to say no to my invalid friend who now has no car and couldn’t drive even if she did and needs to go get her church on?  “Sure.  I’ll be there 20 minutes before to pick you up.”  It was Sunday, May 30^th, 2004. I got all cutesy and ready for church and went and picked her up, folded up her wheelchair and put it in my trunk, and we were off.  We got to church, got out her wheelchair, she hoisted herself in, and I pushed her into the building and into the chapel.  

We sat on the right hand side a few rows from the front, my friend in the aisle in her wheelchair and I was right next to her sitting on the very left hand side of the pew.  We were actually a few minutes early.  That’s a big deal for me because rarely am I ever early to church.  People were milling around my friend asking her how she was doing and I chitty chatted with some different people but I was still in a grumbly mood in my head and just kept wishing everyone would go sit down.  Didn’t they know that I’d had a bad week and that I wanted to be left alone?!  I look over and this guy in a suit is bending over talking to my friend in the wheelchair asking her how she’s doing, and glances up at me for half a second and gives me a half hearted I’m-just-acknowledging-you-because-you’re-next-to-my-friend-that-I’m-talking- to smile and then resumes talking to my her and walks away a minute later and goes and sits up on the stand.  

“What a pretentious little jerk!” I thought.  I remembered him!  How did he not remember me?!  I turned to my friend and said, “He’s back?  Is he giving a homecoming talk?”  “Yeah.” “What in the world? He didn’t even say hi or talk to me!”  “I don’t know.  Sorry.”

The meeting got underway and I was still in a bad mood.  Speaker #1, meh.  I’ve heard better.  Speaker #2, snore.  The congregation sings a song.  

Next up was the pretentious man in the suit. Dean.  

He started to give his missionary homecoming talk since he had just gotten back from his mission a couple of weeks before.  He served in Switzerland and Germany for 2 years teaching the Gospel and suddenly my ears perked up and I started paying attention because he could actually speak well and he was sharing some interesting and funny stories from when he was on his mission.  I was wrapped up in my own little world listening to him speak and in the middle of me looking at him and smiling because he was telling a funny story, he looks over at me from behind the pulpit, and without breaking stride he got the biggest grin on his face midsentence and I knew.

 

He finally recognized and remembered me.  

And he thought I was smiling at him, not realizing I was smiling at his story.

He kept speaking but now his glances were directed at me every 4 or 5 seconds and he couldn’t stop smiling.  I remember thinking, “Oh crap, he remembers me. He’s going to ask me out because he thinks I’m smiling at him.  Ugh, I’m just smiling at his stories.  I should have stayed home.”

Dean didn’t recognize me when he gave me that half second glance before the meeting started because I was blonde before he went on his mission.  I don’t just mean a couple of highlights mixed in with my brown hair type of blonde. I mean I was as blonde as Britney Spears type of blonde.  I had since gone back to my natural brown color, and I definitely looked different from when he had last seen me.  Annnnnd maybe I had put on a couple of pounds in those 2 years he was gone.  And it’s not that I wanted or needed his attention before the meeting when he didn’t recognize me, I just thought it would be common courtesy to acknowledge me because we had been casual acquaintances before his mission.  But once he finally saw my big smile during his talk he recognized me and he was instantly enamored and I knew it. 

And just like Returned Missionary Boyfriend had done, Dean made a beeline for me after the meeting was done.  “I’m so sorry, Michelle. I didn’t recognize you until I was speaking.  I’m so so sorry. I didn’t mean to seem rude earlier.”  We then made some small talk between us and some of our friends, and just as we were about to head to Sunday School, he asked me to stay back for a minute.  Internally I groaned.  “Hey, I was wondering if you wanted to go on a date with me this week?”  

Remember, I had been single for a year by choice after Mistake Boyfriend to get a grip of who I was and to work on me and get some self esteem back. Dating wasn’t high on my priority list.  I still had plenty of guy friends, but lately I seemed to be only getting asked out or hit on by complete freaks or nerds.  Was I wearing some sort of perfume that only attracted losers?  I rejected them all.  No dates for them.  I’d had some conversations with friends though who chastised me for being rude and blowing off the asker-outer.  They said, “Michelle, just think how intimidating it is for a guy, whether he be a hunk or a nerd, to ask a girl out.  EVERY guy who asks someone out deserves at least 1 date.  Even if you know it’s not going to go anywhere, go anyways. They at least deserve that.” 

 

Crap.  They were right.  I had that chastising playing through my head while Dean was asking me out, and even though I had no attraction towards him and not 1 iota desire to go on a date with him, I gave a half hearted smile and said, “Sure.  What day?”  I was giving him a pity date.  He deserved 1 and only 1. What a callous she-beast I was. 

We then walked in late together to Sunday School and took a seat next to each other and some of our other friends in the back.  All of a sudden I think something is wrong with Dean. He’s making this high pitched quarter of a second “EEEEEE” sound every couple of seconds while sucking in a huge gasp of air.  What the what??!!!?!   Is he seizing?  Having a heart attack?  He then sheepishly turns to me and in between gasps of air and that annoying high pitched sound he said, “I’m EEEEEEEE sorry.  I get really EEEEEEE bad hiccups and it EEEEEEEE takes a little bit to go EEEEEEEE away.  They’re actually pretty EEEEEEE painful.”  Oh. My. Heavens.  Nerd alert.  That’s strike 1, buddy.

I gave a sideways eye roll glance to my friend in the wheelchair and she was just laughing knowing that he had already asked me out and she could see it on my face that I wanted to cancel the whole thing right then and there.  Thankfully his hiccups stopped 2 seconds later so our date was still on, and I managed to not talk to him for the rest of church due to pretending like I was taking notes in a notebook (I was really just drawing pictures) and having whispering conversations with everyone else but him while the teacher was teaching.  

 

When church was done he excitedly asked for my phone number and as much as I wanted to give him 867-5309, I couldn’t.  I knew I’d see him again at a church function and I couldn’t be that brutal.  So I gave him my digits.  “How about Thursday?” “Ok, that’s fine.”  “Ok, great! It was so great to see you again, Michelle!  I’ll call you, and I’m really really looking forward to our date!”  “Uh huh.  Bye.”  I was already unbelievably annoyed at him, more so than what that maniacal hiccupping spell warranted.

Monday, May 31^st, 2004.  Dean calls me after I’m done at work, and says it turns out he can’t take me out on that Thursday because he ended up getting scheduled to work.  “Could we reschedule for a different day?”  Oh buddy, that’s strike 2.  “Fine.  Whatever.  How about Wednesday?  I can’t do Friday or Saturday. Or do we just need to wait a while and see when our schedules match up?” knowing full well that magically I’d never get my schedule to match up with his.  “Wednesday is great!!!  Sure!!”  “Ok, how about we meet at our wheelchair friend’s house?  I’ll just park my car outside and we can go in your car?”  I just really didn’t want him to know where I lived.  “Great!!  I’m so excited Michelle! Have a great night!”

 

 The week went by way too fast.  Next thing I know, it’s Wednesday.  Strike 3 was only a matter of hours away. 

Our Story, Part 2...

This is Part 2 of Our Story.  To get the complete story, read in in order starting with OUR STORY, PART 1.

I've been feeling for a while that I need to write down Dean's and my story for our family history books, for our children and grandchildren to know and understand how their parents/grandparents ended up together.  But I realized that I needed to give some back story because there are some key people along the way that set me on some necessary paths to get to Dean that will help you to understand who I am, how I've changed over the years, and why Dean is the best man I've ever met and how he's perfect for me.  I didn't want to write a short love story "We met at church, dated, married, had a baby 3 years later....", that's too vague for my tastes.  I want my posterity to know WHY I love Dean, and why we go perfectly together.

Our Story, Part 2

I rifled through my closet and managed to find a very unworn shirt and skirt in the back.  I actually put on makeup for the first time in who knows how long because I wasn’t big on wearing makeup, did my hair, and hesitantly headed out the door to go to church all by my newly single lonesome self.  

I walked into the church seconds before the meeting began in the chapel and frantically looked for a seat near the back.  I tried to avoid eye contact with everyone because surely they would see in my eyes that I hadn’t been to church in a couple of years and I was a sinner.  All of a sudden I hear “Michelle!!!!” and I look up and there’s a friend of my older sisters that I hadn’t seen in years standing and waving at me.  She had a smile as bright as the sun, and I smiled and waved back at her and grabbed the closest empty seat I could find to where I was standing at that second because suddenly half of the chapel was staring at me because they wanted to see who had just walked in and was being waved at. 

The opening song was sung and the opening prayer was said.  During that prayer I actually folded my arms, closed my eyes, and I listened.  Oh how I wanted God to heal my heart and make High School Boyfriend realize that breaking up with me was the wrong thing to do and for him to beg to get back together with me. My heart was still aching beyond anything I’d ever known because High School Boyfriend and I were so newly broken up, but something foreign started happening to my heart and my body during that prayer.  It suddenly didn’t hurt as much to breathe, and my heart didn’t feel like a 10 ton weighted stone in my chest, it was more like a 9 ton weighted stone now.  I opened my eyes after “Amen” was said and looked around to see if anyone else was feeling visibly and physically relieved like I was from that prayer.  Nope, must have just been me. 

The meeting progressed on.  I devoured every word that was said and every song that was sung.  Within the course of the first 40 minutes of being in that chapel, my heart finally talked to my head for the first time in a long time and I knew this was where I needed to be. 

Cue the Returned Missionary during my 41^st minute in the chapel.

He was sitting up on the stand during the entire meeting because he was going to be the closing speaker, to give his homecoming talk because he’d only been home from his LDS mission for a couple of weeks.  It’s kind of a custom for returned missionaries to give their homecoming talks a couple of weeks after getting home from their missions, and this just happened to be the Sunday that he was asked to give his homecoming talk. 

I could tell that the speaker before him was getting ready to wrap up their remarks and it would be his turn soon so I really looked at Returned Missionary to take a closer glance and see if I recognized him from anywhere.  Only thing was when I looked at him, he was looking right at me smiling an unmistakable smile and he gave me those flirty eyes and I instantly knew that he was going to ask me out after the meeting.  Great, just great.

Next thing I know he’s speaking to the congregation and smiling at me throughout his talk.  I was blushing and of course thinking how cute he was in my 19 year old head, but then I’d think about how as soon as he talked to me and found out that I’d JUST broken up with High School Boyfriend and hadn’t been to church in years, he’d just move right along.  I was having this inner struggle with myself and him before I even knew his name. 

True to my predictions, Returned Missionary made a beeline for me as soon as the meeting was over, along with the wonderful lady, who would become a dear friend, who waved at me when I walked in and she brought over a whole entourage of people to introduce me to.  The next 2 hours of Sunday School and classes were a blur of meeting many more people, learning that this congregation was like a family, and there was a social function for almost every night of the week and that I was wanted to attend by several different people who wanted to get to know me.  I was the new fresh meat.

And yes, I predicted correctly, Returned Missionary asked me to go out on a date with him that week.

As wonderful as it was to have these instantaneous friends, after I went home that Sunday I couldn’t deny that my heart was telling me that I needed to do a big 180 and get back on the straight and narrow.  I knew I NEEDED to be in that church every Sunday and I needed to start actually LIVING what I was knew I was supposed to.  It’d been too long.  Something in my soul changed that Sunday.  I had a new resolve to be a better and different person.

My Mom’s suggestion to just go to church and see how it went couldn’t have come at a more inspired moment.  High School Boyfriend called me on Monday crying saying that he couldn’t do it.  It hurt too much to be without me and let’s get back together.  I absolutely blindsided him and shattered his world when I said “no.”  Had I not gone to church that Sunday and had that change of heart, I would have said “yes” in a heartbeat.  I wanted to get back together with him, he was all I had known for the past 3 years and he was comfortable, but there was something that had lit a fire in me during that first 40 minutes in church that gave me the strength to hold my ground and say “no” despite his pleas and wailing and gnashing of teeth.  We argued, cried, yelled, tried to rationally talk it out, but ultimately he lost the battle and got depressed because of the rejection. 

I missed him.  High School Boyfriend wasn’t all bad for me, he just wasn’t necessarily good for me.  I had something wonderful in my future that I knew was coming eventually, he just wasn’t in that picture. 

Returned Missionary and I went on a couple of dates and he eventually became Returned Missionary Boyfriend.  We had a good time but there wasn’t a huge bond where our long term futures together were even discussed.  We both knew it wasn’t headed that way, thank heavens.  We were more of time fillers. 

He and I went to lots of church social functions together, and I made some amazing friends whom I’m still friends with today, both guys and girls.  I believe that he was put in my path that Sunday to also help me not go back to High School Boyfriend.  As fickle as most 19 year olds are and heaven knows I was no exception to that rule, I saw that there was a handsome LDS returned missionary who was interested in me, someone who already upheld the ideals that I wanted to work towards having.  Yes please!

I enrolled in a local community college, got a job, and Returned Missionary Boyfriend and I hung out as much as our work and school schedules would allow, and continued living the straight and narrow path like I had resolved to do a couple of months earlier. But we eventually called it what it was and were done dating.  No hard feelings. 

I moved down to go to Utah State University for a change of scenery and to be close to my sisters who lived down there.  I just couldn’t seem to fit in with the Utah Mormons, and I went out on a couple of dates, but definitely no one to write home about.  I didn’t have many friends so I mainly ended up spending time at my sister’s house helping her remodel it when I should have been in class.  I would convince her to write my Psychology papers in exchange for dry walling her newly gutted house.  It was a win win. 

But I eventually decided to move back up to Washington to where I was comfortable.  I had plenty of friends at home and I knew I could mooch off my Mom for as long as I needed.  Man, I’d like to go back and slap 20 year old Michelle for doing that.  But mooch away I did.  I was a social bee for a while and my friends were my morning, noon, and night.  

I went out with a couple guys from church back in Washington, but heck, I can’t even remember some of their names now.  No love connection at all and that was just fine with me. 

I went on being social yet single for a while but one night, one dreadful night, I was bored at home.   

“Hmmmm, maybe I’ll try out one of these LDS Singles chatrooms.”  I want to go back and knock myself upside the head with a 2x4 and scream, “Michelle! MICHELLE!!! DON’T DO IT!! YOU’RE AN IDIOT!!!”   I got in the chatroom and started doing mindless “Where do you live? How old are you? Blah blah blah” chatting.  One guy popped up on the screen.  “I live in Olympia. Where do you live?”  “I live in Sumner.”  We started chatting just he and I for a couple of hours and eventually it was decided that we’d meet up in person in a neutral place.  So like the brilliant 21 year old that I was, I took my young niece and nephew to go see Santa at the mall and had him meet us there.  It wasn’t an instant love connection at all, he was crazy skinny and gangly, had a little bit of a nasaly voice, but again, I was an idiot and could tell he was into me.  I think I was just pretty lonely at the time so I figured that having somebody around who liked me was better than having no one around.  He and I started hanging out a lot and he quickly became Mistake Boyfriend. 

As I got to know him, I found out that Mistake Boyfriend had some skeletons in his closet that he tried to keep tightly locked up, but I eventually found out and it crushed me in ways I won’t even explain.  We had this love/hate relationship and I knew deep down that he and I were COMPLETELY wrong for one another, but again, being the idiotic 21 year old that I was, it was better to have someone than no one.  He hated most of my family and friends who were good people. That should have been red flag #1.  He degraded me emotionally and verbally more times than I can count. Red flag #2.  I started to spiritually stray because my self worth was starting to wane. Red flag #3.  I can honestly look back and declare that he didn’t leave one positive imprint on my life over the tumultuous course of almost a year that we dated on again and off again.  He eventually infiltrated my circle of friends and he was kind enough to turn some of them against me when he and I broke up.  It was great. 

He doesn’t deserve more than the 2 necessary paragraphs to incorporate him into my timeline and to show what a waste of a year I had, but once we were done dating I decided I really needed to do some work on myself.  He had broken me down big time.  I hadn’t completely stopped going to church when I dated Mistake Boyfriend, but I wasn’t going faithfully every week either.  I decided I needed to make that a priority again.  I was purposely single for almost a year after him, got a great job that I loved during that time, bought my first cute little Volkswagen Jetta, and I got an apartment by myself.  Hello independence!  I started to gain more self worth and leaned on the supporting shoulder of an amazing guy friend who I still hold dear to this day. And no, we didn’t date, there was never anything like that between us, he was just honestly one of those guys who is like your brother that you can talk and laugh with.  He was a lifesaver for me at that time and put in my life for a very specific reason.

And then my friend got in a horrible car accident.     

     

Our Story, Part 1...

I've been feeling for a while that I need to write down Dean's and my story for our family history books, for our children and grandchildren to know and understand how their parents/grandparents ended up together.  But I realized that I needed to give some back story because there are some key people along the way that set me on some necessary paths to get to Dean that will help you to understand who I am, how I've changed over the years, and why Dean is the best man I've ever met and how he's perfect for me.  I didn't want to write a short love story "We met at church, dated, married, had a baby 3 years later....", that's too vague for my tastes.  I want my posterity to know WHY I love Dean, and why we go perfectly together.

Our Story, Part 1

High school.  I look back and think, “Man, was I seriously that naive?   Did I really wear that outfit thinking I was cute? Did I really ever think of anyone but myself? Why did I think that Jennifer Aniston haircut would look good on me?  Why did I not give any thought toward college? Why did I date that guy and think that he was the epitome of all men I’d ever meet.”

High school.  More specifically, The High School Boyfriend.  He liked me for a long time.  I knew I hung the sun, moon, and stars in his eyes, and I milked it for all it was worth to get him to worship me even though we weren’t dating.  I didn’t reciprocate for a while but he was persistent.  Finally, my feelings started to change, and he was my first kiss when I was 16.  We were laying out in right field on a little league baseball field, and he was tickling me in the flirtatious way that 16 years old do, and the next thing I knew, he bent over and kissed me.  My very first kiss!! I saw fireworks on the back of my eyelids!! I thought it was amazing! I wanted it to last forever because my lips had never known such exhilaration!!  But he pulled away within a couple of seconds and standoffishly said, “Umm, are you ready to go home?”   Well, hmmm, this is awkward.  Ok.  He drove me home in silence, and the block before we reached my house he pulled to the side of the road and put the car in park and turned to me.  “Do you want me to teach you how to kiss? “  Wow.  I was unbelievably insulted but I was even more eager to experience the heavenly and foreign sensation of kissing again.  “Uhh, sure.”  He then proceeded to give me instructions on how to “turn your head this way, don’t kiss too hard, not too much tongue, don’t open your mouth very wide.”  We then practiced a couple of times and it was magical. I could tell I mastered it very quickly because suddenly he had stars in his eyes and his breathing changed to that of wanting more, he was now pursuing MY kisses.  But I still had enough of my senses about me that I knew I needed to say when so I asked him to drop me off in front of my house.  I smiled, gave him a quick kiss, and then exited his car. 

 

We kissed a few more times after that.  But I suddenly I decided wasn’t ready to be in a steady relationship so I put the kibosh on the whole shebang, but I still made sure to string him along enough with being flirtatious to ensure that I was still the only girl in his universe.  It worked.  After months and months, my hormonal teenage brain decided that I was starting to have feelings for him again.  Lo and behold, we ended up an official item.

 

We fell fast and hard for one another.  We placed ourselves in our own little cocoon where just the two of us were, googly eyes and all, and everything else was static.  Family and friends were now suddenly put on the backburner.  We planned our school schedule together so we could have as many classes together as possible.  When we were seniors we planned our late start schedule together. Every morning he would come and pick me up between 6 and 7 a.m., we would drive back over to his house, and either cuddle up and fall back asleep, play videos games, eat, watch a movie, make out, or do homework until it was time to drive to school together at almost 11.  There simply weren’t enough minutes in the day for us to be together.  He would leave my house as late as possible every night or I would do the same at his, and then we’d start the process as early as possible the next morning.   We were inseparable.

I loved his parents.  He liked mine. 

But along with dating and making sure that we were able to squeeze as many minutes together as possible together every day, there came sacrifices.  I sacrificed church.  Not entirely because of him or the fact that I didn’t believe in it, I still did and he wasn’t asking me not to go. Looking back, the excuses I had of stopping going are so topical.  The other girls my age that I went to church with made me feel like an outcast.  I never had a solid group of church gal pals and heaven knows I tried with the popular group, the nerdy group, the shy group, the pessimistic group, I just simply never fit in with any of them and could never forge any strong bonds with any of them.  I wasn’t sleeping around during the week and coming to church and putting on the goodie goodie face for all the adults to see like some of the girls, and the very fact that they were doing that disgusted me.  I wasn’t solid in my belief system, basically meaning I didn’t have the conviction to defend my beliefs before a jury, but I still believed, I just chose to be a fence sitter.  I still would go every once in a while, but when High School Boyfriend and I got together and our time together was more precious than anything, he was the final excuse I needed to quit going completely.   

Even though I stopped going to church doesn’t mean that I abandoned all of my beliefs and denounced them.  I wasn’t out drinking or smoking or doing drugs, and I can still happily say that I’ve never done any of those.  I still believed in God and Jesus.  I still believed in the LDS Church.  Sadly, I just let another person become more important than all of that and told myself that I would go back one day, maybe.

High School Boyfriend was an avid baseball player and played for school and a rec team so baseball was life.  I was so smitten that I eventually learned most Major League players names and I resigned myself to the fact that we would watch Sportscenter every night and tons of games on television.  He played in  games on Sunday, he said he needed me at all of his games for support, and of course with that I felt I was needed to be in the bleachers cheering him on more than I needed to be in a pew in church, he didn’t have to twist my arm.  I don’t think I missed more than 3 of his games in the entire time we were together and let me just tell you, he played in A LOT of games.

We still hung out with friends as time would permit.  Our friends used to make fun of him because he would almost get frantic if I got up and was not next to him for 5 minutes.  We had this need to be touching all the time but he almost smothered me sometimes which I viewed as unfiltered adoration.

He was good to me.  He never ever hit or verbally abused me or made me feel less than the most beautiful girl in the world.  He respected me. He never cheated on me. He spoke the world of me to everyone that he knew.  We only fought over petty things that teenager couples do and only had a couple doozey fights. His parents adored me and wanted me to have their grandbabies.

Time pressed on.  School days came and went.  We were a pretty well known couple in our grade because we’d been together for so long and because we were attached at the hip.  Eventually the other brilliant 17 and 18 year olds in our grade started asking if we were going to get married after high school and would comment on how we’d have really cute babies, etc.  Well, we hadn’t really thought or talked about that.  At the end of our senior year we did start to talk about marriage.  Would we get married?  Well, we were so in love that we said we would eventually.  We threw around the idea of getting hitched by the time we were 20.  There was no real game plan and it wasn’t something we dwelt upon, it was more so something that we’d deal with when the time got closer but we would still casually and yet sometimes excitedly talk about it.  

When I looked at him, I never ever wanted to have babies with him.  I was completely against having kids, ever.  And there was something about him that drove that nail in even further with not wanting to have kids, especially with him.  We wanted it to be just he and I in our little cocoon forever with no distractions.  We were both going to get great jobs and travel the world together and buy all the toys and gadgets we pleased and life would be grand.

We were madly in love and even looking back now, he is in almost every single memory I have from my junior and senior year of high school.  

After graduation he made a decision that would change my life for the better although I didn’t know it at the time.  He was given the opportunity to move to the middle of Washington to possibly play for a community college team, which in his mind was just the first step towards making it to the Major Leagues. I was devastated. The only thing was he was working his way through a broken wrist and he just never got back the strength that he needed to play to his potential.  His parents were footing the bill for him so it was no problem for him to move over, but I was jobless and penniless and my parents refused to help financially to move over there so I was stuck on this side of the mountains for the time being.  I eventually told him I supported him going because I wanted him to pursue his dreams so I tearfully said goodbye as he drove eastward.  We talked on the phone for hours and hours every day, and I would drive over on the weekends and spend the weekend there with him.  One Friday he and I were talking on the phone and he said it was too painful to do the long distance relationship game and he said he needed to focus on baseball and not me.  My little filly heart was shattered.  I couldn’t convince him otherwise so I just sobbed as much as my body could take for 2 solid days. 

Just two days after High School Boyfriend and I had broken up, on Sunday morning my Mom came into my room and suggested that I go to church like she had been suggesting to me for a couple of years. I hadn’t been in a long long time.  Since I was now graduated from high school, there was a special congregation for young single adults that I could go to, and I figured what the heck, I have no Boyfriend to take up all of my time now so I might as well go because otherwise I’ll just sit at home and cry all day. 

That suggestion from my Mom changed the course of my life.

 

6 years!?!? What the what?...

Six years!?!? What the what? Yes, thank you Liz Lemon forgiving me my new favorite saying that I probably use way too much, but it's just so useful in so many situations, hence, I will continue saying it until Paris Hilton comes up with another new saying other than, "That's hot." Waiting on you, girlfriend.

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Six years of what, you ask? Six years of Lost ruling the boob tube? Six years was all it took for Michelle Duggar to have 83 kids? (I love the Duggars so don't knock 'em) Six years of being a baby and paying someone to wax my upper lip once a month other than just buying the supplies and doing it myself?

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You're thinking too obscurely.

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I'm talking abouw how it's been 6 years to the day since I went on my first date with the Deanmeister. The Deananator. The Deanasaurus Rex. The Deanarooski.

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What? You want to hear about our first date and how it came to be? Well, ok, you're the boss.

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Me. Dean. Church. Talk. Ask. Ugh. Yes. Hiccups. Toture. Postpone. Dread. Date. Food. Talk. Laugh. Alki. Sleep. Late. Reject. Home. Done.

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That pretty much sums it up.

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Even though there were no sparks in the beginning for me, it turns out Dean had to be the kindest man on the face of the planet, and that's how he sucked me into the black hole. Into the abyss. Into his arms.

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Oh my, I just threw up a little bit in my mouth from that last sentence.

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Really, he was and is perfect for me. He just wasn't who I thought I was going to marry. According to my "Traits I Want In A Future Husband" list that I made when I was 15, my "ideal husband" could only be fictional. Of course my "ideal husband" had to have all the necessities like 8 pack abs, at least a foot taller than me (apparently I wanted to marry Andre the Giant), have a car that was at least $100,000, owned his own plane that we could go on romantic excursions on, and was going to buy me a mansion as a wedding present. You know, realistic things.

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Then as I got older and pulled my head down from the clouds, I realized that maybe those things weren't so important. How about wanting to marry a man who loves Heavenly Father and Jesus? How about wanting to marry a man who I can be completely open and honest with no matter what the circumstances are, and he can do the same with me? How about wanting to marry a man who will only marry me in the temple for all eternity? How about wanting to marry a man who makes me laugh? How about wanting to marry a man who never ever makes me feel less than my maximum potential? How about wanting to marry a man who I know is going to be a phenomenal father to our children and will settle for nothing less than reaching the Celestial Kingdom with our family?

My revised list goes on an on, and one day in Iowa I found my updated list I made in my teens and as I sat in our spare bedroom on the floor reading it I started crying because I realized that Dean fit almost all of the 100+ qualifications I had listed, and the ones he didn't fit were lame ones like "good basketball player" and "very athletic". Sports aren't his cup of tea, but that's totally ok with me because he excels in so many other areas. Anyways, I started crying because I realized that I had married exactly who I wanted and needed to marry and my heart was so full at that moment.

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Dean has been amazing from the very beginning.

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He was there to massage my feet in the shadow of the Washington monument on the lawn after I got blisters from wearing brand new shoes that day and walking a million miles.

I was there to help him realize that Hawaiian shirts in your everyday attire aren't ok.

He was there to drive up to Snoqualmie at midnight just to go watch the shooting stars.

I was there to listen to all of his mission stories and look at his pictures.

He was there to drive to Idaho to meet all of my family for the first time and be under the ever scrutinous eyes of my sisters. (it turned out he passed their test)

I was there to go on ridealongs and make him laugh while he was delivering things for work.

He was there to help me move into my second apartment and make 4 million Cup O Noodles there.

I was there to be the most of the night driver on our many many trips to Utah and Idaho.

He was there to propose to me in the laundry room. It was perfect.

I was there to say "YES!!!"

He was there to learn how to deal with the craziness that is my family sometimes.

I was there to fall asleep on the couch with my head on his chest and he LOVED that.

He was there to marry me in the Seattle LDS Temple on October 8, 2005. The whole world went away and it was just us at that moment.

I was there to grab our cell phone on our honeymoon to have him answer the call from his Dad because surely there would only be an emergency for someone to call us on our honeymoon. There's wasn't.

He was there to do the heavy lifting of loading our furniture into our moving truck 6 days after we got married.

I was there to lift the light stuff.

He was there to drive the entire way across the country in our moving truck, towing our car.

I was there to jump into his arms for joy when we found our first apartment mere hours after arriving in Davenport.

He was there to get thrown into the refiner's fire, otherwise known as Palmer.

I was there to quiz him on his all-things-anatomical notecards at midnight while laying in bed.

He was there to answer all anatomical questions I had while I was going to massage therapy school because he knew it all.

I was there to kick his butt at Phase 10 and Skip Bo when we played it in bed before we went to sleep.

He was there to light a fire under our butts about getting food storage, and to teach me about how important it is to always pay tithing, no matter what.

I was there to show him some of the crazy OCD-ness of my deep cleaning.

He was there to hold me as I bawled my eyes out and tried to tell him I'm pregnant through my tears of joy and relief.

I was there to whine and be sick for the first 3 months of my pregnancy.

He was there to be the best supportive husband to a pregnant lady that I've ever seen.

I was there to hold him as he cried when he got the call that his Dad died.

He was there to jump for joy with me when my water broke at 2 A.M.

I was there to throw everything I could get my hands on at him when I was in labor because he fell asleep for a half hour and I needed to wake him and even yelling for him didn't stir him.

He was there to cut the umbilical cord on Kara.

I was there to experience the unexplainable joy and love with him that comes with meeting your baby for the first time.

He was there to hold our daughter every single chance he had and still does.

I was there to take pictures of him making Kara laugh. Priceless.

He was there to hold me as I wept uncontrollably when I got the call that my Mom was going to unexpectedly pass away soon.

I was there to yell at the Budget truck rental people after he and his Mom had a horrible cross country moving experience when we moved back to WA. At least I got almost 60% of our money back.

He was there to look up at Kara and I in the audience and smile as he sat amongst his graduating class as he got his Doctor of Chiropractic degree.

I was there to not see him walk across the stage to recieve his diploma because I yelled for joy so loudly when they called his name to come across that I made Kara hysterical and I had to calm her down.

He was there to listen to the Spirit about how we should not take the job in Vancouver. One of the best decisions we've ever made.

I was there to celebrate with him after he found the job he's currently at that he loves.

He was there at lunch for me to again cry to him for joy that we are pregnant with our second precious baby.

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He'll be there for the rest of eternity holding my hand.

I'll be there for the rest of eternity holding his hand.

And next to us we'll be holding our children's hands. Forever.

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Honig, even though your hiccups almost made me back out of our first date before it even began, I'm eternally grateful that I said yes to going on that first date with you and I love you more than I can ever express. Hiccups and all.

Sink baby...

Sometimes you just need to see a picture of the cutest baby in the world loving taking a tubby in the kitchen sink.

Five reasons...

This picture was taken at a delicious hibachi grill restaurant in Bettendorf, Iowa mere hours after my handsome hubster graduated in October. Nothing to celebrate years of hard work like gorging yourself on meat and veggies and rice while your chef chucks and spins incredibly sharp knives and sets a tower of grilling onions on fire just 3 feet away from you and about singes off your baby girl's hair. It was a good day.

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So, I suddenly had a hankering to post 5 reasons why I like my husband. And like him I do.

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1. He changes our oil in our van. May sound lame to some, but I really appreciate it. It saves us a ton of money, and I don't have to listen to the goobers at the Quickie Lubey Changey tell this little southern miss who can't possibly know anything about automobiles about how they should probably use Italian imported oil made out of cats and the shavings of diamonds to give my van a better shot at running longer because she sure is looking in rough shape. And they should probably do an entire oil tranny coolant adamantium system flush because surely it'll break down by next week if I don't. The whole thing will only cost $587.33 so would I like to pay with debit or credit? I'll think I'll pay with cred....

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2. He loves our daughter. Love love love love love love love love loves her. Times a bajillion. Every single night after we kneel down and say family prayers and I kiss her face off, he takes her upstairs and he sits in her rocking chair and gives her a bottle and sings Primary songs to her and rocks her to sleep. Oh but there's more. You didn't just think that he sat there with only a bottle and our baby in his arms, did you? It wouldn't be Dean if he didn't also have his Petzl headlamp on (Pants, best $30 gift you've ever given, he's used the crud out of it) with a book in hand. After Kara falls asleep, click click, and his headlamp's on and he's reading his book while still holding our sleepy baby. Sometimes he'll read and snuggle her for only 10 minutes after she's asleep, but let's be real, most of the time it's at least a half hour, if not an hour. And I think that's the sweetest thing in the world. See?

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3. He makes the best tater tots and eggs I've ever had. And honey baked ham. And this Mexican dip. Mmmmmm.....

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4. He is the whitest dancer I've ever seen and I LOVE IT! Sometimes I'll start dancing, and I'll come up to him and start dancing with him and then he starts shaking his groove thang and.... you just have to see it. It's hilarious and oh-so-cute.

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5. He is a chiropractor. And he adjusts me whenever I need/want him to. And he is good at it. And I love that about him. And I love him.

I do this begrudingly....

That's it. I must end the harassment. I'll blog already.

Sooooo, news in the Sheldon household...

First and most importantly, I am in a family way!!! Can you tell I've been watching Little House on the Prairie?

This little chunky bundle of lovey love will be joining our family in mid October and we can't wait. I've been feeling pretty good so far, with a couple of days of pure misery from being sick, but at least I'm not nonstop sick 24/7 like I was with Kara so I'm counting this as a win. We're excited to have 2 little kids filling our house with poopy diapers, milk milk and more milk, and more love than these walls can contain.

We moved to a neighboring city in WA in Jan because Dean landed himself a nice job working with 2 other chiros. He likes his job. I like our new place. Win win. But the best part is that Kara actually has room to run around and plenty of places to hide her toys in nooks and crannys for me to randomly find them. Mr. Potato Head may never have a full face again because I can't find all the parts thanks to a 13 month old little miss.

We still aren't completely unpacked and we've been here a month already. For shame. I can't believe how much stuff we have, and we still need to buy a bookcase or two for Dean's billions of books and we need an entertainment center that is bigger than a breadbox. Point being, I used to not mind unpacking but then I realized that was when we had no belongings. Now, I'd rather rip off my own toe nails one by one than open one more box to see what lies inside.

We had a fun and busy busy busy Christmas season. Lots of family funtivities. Kara loved having everyone over and she was a bit disappointed when it was just she and I during the day after everyone left.

Kara turned 1 on New Year's Eve and decided to make it extra memorable by taking her first steps that night also. Now she's a walking machine but still falls down pretty regularly. She says mama, dada, ball (sounds like bahh), baba, num num, bye, every animal sound you can imagine, and today she said lell low (yellow). She's pretty much a baby genius.

Now you're caught up, and I have another 6 months before I have to blog again.