More on home, expectations, and such

About a year ago, we came home to Knoxville after a visit to Fort Wayne. It was the first time in my life that I didn't think of leaving the Fort as leaving home. 

If you know us, or have read this blog, you know Nathan and I never planned or wanted to leave Fort Wayne. Somehow, we both managed to spend all of our growing up years and early adulthood in that city. As a place, it was my firmest idea of home. It was a heartbreaking decision to leave. Before all three of us even moved to the new place in Illinois, we knew it probably wouldn't work long term. That realization came so quickly and unexpectedly. 

I came to Tennessee pretty upset that we were even farther from Indiana. We never, ever intended to move twice. I hated it. After a few months of hard adjustment (and some helpful insight thanks to Just Moved! Ministries that moving actually is hard), one might say that I dragged myself into trying to make Knoxville home...I stubbornly didn't want to; I missed my idea of home terribly. But, my efforts worked. Knoxville became home. I really thought we'd spend the next fifteen years here. I suppose it only makes sense that now we have to leave.

I have no expectations of staying in Indianapolis long term. Our history now informs us that it's only a mere possibility. 

The idea of home has been a mess for me these last four years. Like I said in the last post, I don't like learning from this. I put in so much work and dream so many long term dreams about home as a place and certain people just to leave them and have to start all over. I recognize the benefit of the lesson, though. I do believe that only God is constant, is everywhere, is unchanging, is home. And this experience is really *ahem* driving that home.

Hebrews 13:8 Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever.

Daniel 7:14 ...And His kingdom is one which will not be destroyed.

Psalm 18:2 The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.

Here We Go Again

We are going to move again. I hate moving. It's right up there with death of a loved one and serious illness. Our first two big moves have been hard, lonely processes. Both of them have also brought beautiful people into our lives. It's so hard leaving them. I've been crying for days. Starting over is the worst. I do realize that it can get better, but that new beginning has (for me, so far) really sucked. 

I fully believed we would live in Tennessee for a long time. I did not, in any way, count on the serious downsides that are ultimately influencing the decision to leave. I made this place home. I can hardly wrap my mind around leaving already. I don't know if I'll be able to consider any place home again. Dramatic? Maybe. Ugh, I hate moving.

Three years ago, I would have welcomed a move back to Indiana with open arms and much excitement. Now, I'm going because it means so much to my husband. (Please know he repeatedly offered to turn the opportunity down for my sake. But marriage is so much give and take and I can't ignore what this means to him).

I know God is in the pain and the process and I (do my best to) trust Him for the bigger picture. I am also learning that He needs to be my place because the physical places have been taken from me far too easily and the loss devastates me every time. 

We believed we were going to raise a family in Ft. Wayne. We almost believed we were going to do it in northern Illinois. We believed for sure it would happen in Knoxville. I've lost hope it'll happen anywhere except the everywhere that the Lord dwells. And that's still hard. Because I want a permanent place and familiar people so much. 

Psalm 18:10 The name of the Lord is a strong tower.

Colossians 2:7 ...so walk in him, rooted and built up in him, established in the faith...

Isaiah 43:19 ...I will make a way in the wilderness and streams in the dessert.

And one that was shared with me recently, Jeremiah 33:3 Call to me and I will answer you, and will tell you great and hidden things that you have not known.

When Food is a Problem

When I was in college, an older couple invited me and a classmate to dinner for a project we were working on. I don't remember the details of the project, but I remember the dinner:

Grilled steak kabobs with onions, peppers, and mushrooms. I choked the meal down and politely nodded in agreement as my classmate raved over how wonderful it tasted. When I got back to my dorm, my roommate was bewildered that I would feel ill after a meal that sounded so amazing. I was trying hard to get over the texture of grilled onions, peppers, and mushrooms in my mouth. I felt silly trying to explain it.

Before we left Illinois, I went to a dinner for my MOPS group. Someone brought a pan of pasta from a local restaurant because it was the "BEST stuff ever." I tried it, but I could barely swallow the combination of chicken, garlic, and onion. It was awful.

I remember gagging on spaghetti and other Italian dishes regularly as a child. I have had nightmares about onions. I wish I was making that up, because seriously. Who has onion nightmares? I vividly remember the time I (around 7 years old) took a big bite of mashed potatoes, only to gag so hard I threw up. I wasn't expecting them to be full of potato peels and taste strongly of garlic.

When Andrew started to refuse food a couple years ago, I was ok with it. We'd made a big move, his world had changed, and I completely understood food texture issues. When he gagged to the point of throwing up, I got it. Except that he kept regressing, eating less and less, refusing foods that had once been acceptable, stressing me the heck out. And I was already stressed at the time. I hated moving. I know my child picked up on it. Did my stress cause his eating to worsen? 

I don't know. He was a better eater once, but never a great one. He was occasionally gagging on food before he started refusing so much of it. And the fact that his peers seem to go for treats so easily (ice cream, donuts, popcorn, chips, etc) and he has never done that...I don't know. Then there's family history. Me. My father-in-law is very picky. I'm told my maternal grandfather was very picky. Maybe it all condensed into my child. 

We've been in feeding therapy for nearly a year. It is, by nature, a slow therapy. We're exploring sensory processing disorder and hoping for answers on that soon. It would help explain his problems sleeping and a few other issues (and maybe help with food!). In the meantime, I am a mom who never in a million years imagined that extreme picky eating would be our biggest struggle yet in raising a child. Here's to figuring it all out and praying for improvements.

My Two Cents

I think every blogger who cares about it has said everything there is to be said about Fifty Shades of Grey. 

Here are my two cents anyway.

When I was working at the library reference desk a few years ago, a woman with a child in tow came up and asked me in a quiet voice if we had "the latest mommy porn book all the moms are talking about." I had heard about Fifty Shades of Grey, but that was the first time I paid attention. I had not yet heard "mommy porn," and I was a bit shocked she was searching for such a thing in the presence of a child. Shortly after, Fifty Shades became the next big thing, and I heard much more about it.

I found the fascination with the book to be confusing at first. It's not the first pornographic or erotic piece of fiction aimed at women. So, why did it become such a big deal? Why not another book? I think there are a few reasons. Fifty Shades started as Twilight fan fiction, so it was able to spring off of another hugely popular book series. Twilight already had a fan base of moms. Other blogs I've read have stated that porn use is on the rise among women. We live in a time when the media loves a shocking story, and "sex sells" is a well known adage. Combine it all, and Fifty Shades of Grey explodes into a big story.  

Today, I was with a group of moms who started discussing the Fifty Shades of Grey movie. A couple of them made a really good point that is sticking with me: if we, as Christians, are not ok with Fifty Shades of Grey, then what else should we not be ok with? What about all the movies that portray sex outside of marriage as a good thing? I am a chick flick, romantic comedy kind of girl. But if I am ok watching movies where the characters jump into bed together outside of marriage, am I any better than the Christian woman going to see Fifty Shades of Grey at the theater? No. I'm really not. And that's not to mention any other sinful issues in my life.

While I fully agree with all of the people who are opposed to Fifty Shades of Grey, I think I need to pay more attention to what I allow into my own life under the guise of entertainment. I don't think that's an easy thing to do, but I do think it's important.

On Facebook

I first heard about it senior year in college. I'd be standing in line in the cafeteria to pay for lunch when I would hear the girl in front of me say to her friend, "I found so many people from high school on Facebook. I thought I'd never see some of them again!"

I'd go to class and hear someone say, "I used to play with my neighbor every day until we were ten. Then she moved away and I never saw her again, but I just found her on Facebook!"

After overhearing a handful of these conversations, I decided to create a Facebook account. It was still only for people with .edu email addresses. You couldn't post statuses yet, but you could choose how you were feeling from a drop down list of emotions. My first "status update" about Facebook was, in fact, made on AOL Instant Messenger. I informed my friends that I'd joined after hearing about it so many times around campus.

How it has changed.

I like Facebook for two main reasons. The first is that I can stay in touch with family in a way that I couldn't before. We "see" each other more often, thanks to Facebook. It does not replace real life interactions, but it keeps me updated on family news. The second reason is that it helps me feel more connected in general, especially this year. As a new stay at home mom in a new state in the dead of winter, Facebook provided a daily reminder that other people were out there, kept me connected to friends I'd left behind, and kept me in touch with other moms. 

I was seriously hoping the active Facebook mom community I had back home would be here, too. I was disappointed to find it lacking. The majority of people I've met here avoid Facebook or use it sparingly (and I can understand that). I wonder if it'll be more active in our new town.

I do wonder what life would be like without it. I have occasionally thought about cutting Facebook out of my life. Like many others, I also fall victim to the comparison game. I see those status updates and pictures that make so-and-so's life look perfect, and I get jealous. For a while, it contributed heavily to my homesickness. I almost cut Facebook out at that point. Almost. Without it, I wouldn't have nearly as many people to compare to myself. I might devote the time I spend reading status updates to something more important. 

(Side note: before Facebook, I devoted a lot of time to reading books. I'm a huge advocate of reading, but I don't know that it's more important than other things I *could* be doing instead. I kind of think I'd go back to reading more in lieu of Facebook...)

As I'm writing this, I'm thinking that the mom connection is currently the strongest reason I stay on Facebook. I don't want to repeat all the mom bloggers out there, but I probably will, because staying home is what I've known this past year and it is much harder than I thought it would be. I was not prepared for the overwhelming sense of isolation and boredom I have experienced. I have found that I desperately want to be out of our apartment at least once day. I am not good at sitting on the floor and playing with my child for hours on end. I WANT to be good at it, but mostly I feel like I'll go crazy. As I've shared before, he's not good with staying home for hours on end, either...but I still feel so hugely isolated. I can't quite nail it down. We go to MOPS and play dates and small group and story time and parks and church, but it never feels like enough. At home, we do chores and meals and take walks (and I can't wait till we have a house again with space for projects and messes), but I still feel like I'm stuck and alone and bored. To bring this back to Facebook, seeing all the other moms I know post similar thoughts and feelings helps me quite a bit.

Maybe it's just the "mommy trenches" that I hear about...toddler life is trying, after all. Maybe this is just where God has me, allowing me to experience this stuff for some reason I don't yet know. Or, maybe I need therapy. Haha. But, as for Facebook, I plan to stick with it for now.

here we go again

Eleven months ago: Nathan had been in Illinois for about two months. I was still in Fort Wayne, working and waiting for our house to sell. Nathan came home for a weekend visit. We went out to dinner, and he informed me that things weren't going well. I had just started to suspect he wasn't happy with our new place in life, and this confirmed it. 

We stopped house hunting and focused on apartments and storage facilities. Nathan wanted to stay with his job for at least a year. After that, he only knew that he wanted to leave this corner of northern Illinois. When Andrew and I moved out here, it didn't take long for me to agree. It's a nice area, but we can't easily afford to live in it.

I had no idea how long we would be in Illinois. Nathan started job searching before the one year mark. He had several offers, but nothing quite fit. The job search that landed us in Illinois was a bit rushed, as his old company was bought out and layoffs were imminent. We wanted to carefully and prayerfully consider options this time. 

The options have been considered. A very good opportunity has come from Tennessee, so we are moving. Again. God knows I never dreamed of living in three states in three years. In fact, it's still something I don't want...I very selfishly want us all to just go back home. I hope that changes, even when I am admittedly bad at changing. This experience has, if nothing else, taught me that I simply can't control where I live.

I will not miss the area very much, but I will miss the people. We've met some pretty amazing people, which I did not think would happen in the space of one year. It will be hard to leave them behind and start over, yet again, making friends. I hope the people we meet in Tennessee are as great as they are here. 

the weight

I think I've established that moving was hard. It's still hard. I don't feel like I've completely transitioned yet, and although people say I should give it two years, I wonder if two years really will make a difference. For the record, it has been eight months.

One of the many things the move brought was a lack of physical activity for me. I'm no longer spending twenty hours a week getting up and down at the library. I was semi-consistent with working out at home because our basement served as a convenient workout area. All of our exercise equipment is now in storage and inaccessible until we get a house. I can't exercise with Andrew around because he doesn't have the patience for it. Gym memberships are out. I don't really want to spend money on workout videos. Jumping of any sort is out, as we're not on a ground floor. And taking care of Andrew is a lot of work, but it is definitely not exercise. 

I also hate exercising. I don't get any good feelings when I do it. None. Ever. Hence, the excuses above. They might be valid, but they are still excuses.

I have gained weight in the eight months we've been here. Most of my clothes don't fit anymore. I am physically uncomfortable. All. The. Time. I could probably deal with the extra weight if I weren't so uncomfortable. I don't know how much I've gained (the scale is in storage, too), but I gotta do something. If it's a good day, I get an hour and a half to myself during nap time. I need to put a work out in there. Then, the really hard part, I need to stick with it. Despite the lack of good feelings, the absence of that positive rush, and the fact that I've never been consistent with a workout for longer than a month. Ugh. As Nike once said, "Just do it." That's probably the only way.