shannonmarieadams's Xanga

Midnight Dreams

Sun, 08 Nov 2009 13:05:27 GMT

I've had it only occasionally for years, though whether it's been two years or seven, I couldn't tell you. It's always the same.

I'm outside, alone, not far from the house. Last night I was on the back porch at my grandma Teed's old trailer. Off in the distance, I see him - one lone lion. He's always huge, and he's always partially hidden...by weeds, brush, a building. Last night I could only see the top of his back and head moving through the weeds, as if he was on an African savannah instead of my grandparents' farmland.

As soon as I see him, I'm terrified, and I turn to run. I know he's coming behind me. He never growls, he never roars, we never make eye contact and I never, EVER turn around. I run to the house, where I'm shaking so badly that I can't get the door open. Every single time. I can't grip the knob, I can't turn it, my hands are sweaty. I have to stand completely still, not even breathing, to steady my nerves enough to get the door open. In the back of my mind, I know he's coming. I can't hear him, can't feel him, but I know he's there, and even then, I don't turn around. I just know I have to get inside, and I'm afraid if I turn around, I'll be too scared to move again.

Finally - FINALLY - the knob turns. I make it in the door and manage to get it closed just before he reaches me. He doesn't growl or push on the door, he just walks. Around my house. I see him through the open windows, walking...walking...

I always know this is a dream. Whenever the lion appears for the first time, I recognize it and will myself to wake up. Sometimes it takes a while. It usually happens about now, once I'm inside. But last night there was a twist that turned my blood to ice.

I lost sight of the lion in the window, and when I peeked outside, he was heading toward the middle of my grandparents' lawn, where Isabella's tiny purple Dora backpack was lying in the yard. He sniffed around it, pawing it, and though her physical body wasn't there, the symbolism was staggering. I felt so utterly terrified, and helpless...her backpack was too far away. I could never get it.

And I woke up. Once I have one of those dreams, I don't go back to sleep.

I've always thought it was important to know what things like that mean. Sometimes our dreams are nothing more than a collection of random memories and thoughts from our day; usually I don't dream at all. But sometimes, they have meaning, and I know this is one of those dreams. I used to have dreams about my hair and teeth falling out. It wasn't scary, but it was creepy. When I learned that it often means you're afraid of old age, I went, "Huh. That's true." And I haven't had them since. Knowledge is power...at least sometimes.

But this one is perplexing. According to standard dream interpretation, lions are usually good - they symbolize power, strength and loyalty. Seeing one in a dream is an omen of greatness; being attacked by one can mean that you have obstacles to overcome before you achieve that greatness. But it doesn't have to mean that. And I think it's significant that MY lion never attacks, never growls, never hurts me. The truth is, since I never turn around and look at him, I don't know what he's doing. I always assume he's chasing me because that's what I'm afraid of, and fear is a powerful motivator.

And I don't know why Isabella was in this last one, but it scared me more than I can say.

When You're the Only One Sober

Sun, 27 Sep 2009 03:46:09 GMT

I've shot a lot of weddings and receptions. Many of them have involved an open bar. It's interesting to watch what happens to the party after nine p.m. when the alcohol flows freely, and you're the only one not drinking...

1. People think they can do dance moves that they really can't do. Women often revisit old ballet moves that they learned when they were nine.

2. The bride and groom bang their heads together more when they try to kiss.

3. Chairs become an important prop in the wedding reception experience.

4. Some poor schmuck will convince his girlfriend to take advantage of the moonlit ambience and get busy outside. They will get caught, and when they come inside, they will receive a standing ovation.

5. There is (usually) a direct relationship between the amount of alcohol consumed and the number of people who ask me to dance. (Sadly, in this regard, tonight was a total failure. It was a blow to my self esteem.)

6. People are much less inhibited about their booties.

7. If you didn't have a designated driver lined up when you arrived, you will end up offering cigarettes in return for a ride to your sleeping bag and then back to your car in the morning. This may or may not work.

8. Anyone not drinking suddenly feels like the most graceful person in the room.

If the reception is alcohol-free, the party is over at nine p.m.

A Possibility

Tue, 08 Sep 2009 15:24:47 GMT

There is a (small) possibility that Josh could get a promotion and raise at his work; I say "small" because there are so many "ifs" in the equation. His boss is currently in the runing for a different job with another hospital, and IF he is able to get it, then he wants to push the admin to promote Josh as the new Plant Ops Manager. However, the other "IF" is that this particular hospital tends to fill in admin vacancies with people from other branches of their company, so we just don't know if they would be willing to do that. A couple points in Josh's favor - he would have his boss' support and access to his knowledge after he takes over (and his boss has made it fairly clear that any other candidate would NOT be allowed those same privileges), and since they wouldn't have to pay Josh as much as a veteran manager, it might be an incentive in their budget to hire a newbie.

If he was able to get this, it would be so outstanding. For one thing, he's have a regular, daytime schedule again. (Right now he still shifts back and forth between days and nights and it is SO rough on his body.) Also, he'd get enough of a pay raise that we could stop USING our savings every month and actually start saving again. My goodness, I can't even tell you how enticing that is.

Please pray for this with us. I can't describe how we're hoping that this works out....

The Confession of Stuff

Tue, 25 Aug 2009 19:09:57 GMT

Many of you probably know, either from talking to me or from reading Facebook, what has happened the past few days. For those of you that may not have heard, I will tell you that we lost the baby. It was last night when I realized what had happened; this morning when the sonogram confirmed it.

I feel as though I accomplished a fair amount of grieving last night. I awoke around three a.m. and realized what was going on, and had a tumultuous night thereafter. I didn't wake Josh up (for which I endured a scolding today) but I felt like there was nothing that either of us could do, and he looked so cute, cuddled next to me with his head underneath two pillows. So I alternated between manic states of mind, at one moment crying and scared because I was losing my baby, and in the next moment convincing myself that I was overreacting because of the delirium caused by sleep deprivation. I managed to sleep another hour or two, and in the morning when a semblance of clarity returned, I realized that the most probable truth was that the baby was gone.

My doctor, whom I would nominate for sainthood had I the choice to do so, gave me some facts and statistics that comforted me. I appreciate words of encouragement and heartfelt symapthies, but I'm comforted by numbers. I don't know why, but I feel like I understand the world better when numbers are involnved. Of course my first thoughts, like so many women who have experienced the same thing, are along the lines of "What did I do wrong?" Could it have been something as innocent as picking up Isabella and playing with her? Should I have avoided that lunch at McDonalds in favor of plain chicken and fruit?

I didn't know this, but apparently the vast majority of miscarriages are not caused by activity or events - usually only in extreme cases such as a car accident or a serious fall - but most are, in fact, the result of an abnormality of the fetus. A chromosomal defect, for example. It's, as he described it, nature's way of keeping unhealthy pregnancies from advancing.

Funny how sometimes, lack of control over a situation is exactly what I need to help me cope.

I didn't want to tell anyone at first. Not that I was trying to avoid letting everyone know - seven months from now when a baby failed to be born, I feel that would be a telling sign that something had happened - but I didn't feel prepared to deal with an onslought of well wishers. I was walking a precarious balance between okay and not okay; I didn't want to tip. I realize, though, that expressions of good will and prayers are as much for the edification of the giver as the receiver. When my loved ones and dear friends are facing adversity, I want to know so that I can pray for them and encourage them too. So don't worry; I'm over it.

I am so thankful for my daughter, who is healthy and happy and beautiful, and who is right now asleep in her crib with no awareness that anything was ever wrong. I have always been thankful for her; I am especially so today.

In the meantime, we have received countless facebook messages and phone calls with sympathies and encouragements. I feel compelled to answer them personally. I started to comment on each one, and all I could think to say was, "Thank you." So I said it, to every one who wrote on my wall. At first glance, it probably seems an impersonal form response, but I plead my case here - I meant it. When I wrote "thank you" to each of those people, they were the only words I could put down because they were the only words on my heart.

The Second Weirdest Prayer God Ever Answered

Fri, 31 Jul 2009 13:58:44 GMT

Last fall when we went to Hawaii, I thought I had taken a book of stamps with us to mail some postcards to some people. When we got back from the trip, I could not find them anywhere, and I couldn't recall seeing them at all while we were there. I looked through all of our luggage - every pocket and crevice - and decided I must have left them at home, so I looked in every place they could logically be. They weren't in the drawer where they belonged, nor were they on my desk, in the magnetic box on the refrigerator or stuck in any of the notebooks I keep lying around.

I was totally bummed. It was a new book of stamps and I absolutely hated losing that nine dollars.

At Christmas time, I was sending out cards with pictures of Isabella in them. My budget allowed for forty cards to be sent, but I found that I had about sixty people on my list that I wanted to send. I stuck to my budget, though, and chose the top forty, in the back of my mind still peeved about losing a whole book of stamps and wishing I had it now.

That night I had a dream. I was trying to open the bottom drawer of my desk organizer, but something was stuck. When I bent to look at what it was, there was a book of stamps (sunflowers - just like the ones I had lost) caught on the drawer above it. As I pulled the drawer open, the stamps slid over the drawer and fell into the opening behind it. The dream ended there.

The next morning I woke up and thought, "Well, I didn't think of looking BEHIND the drawer." I pulled it out, and there it was - my missing book of stamps. I used it to send the extra Christmas cards that I had wanted to send.

I never actually prayed to find that book of stamps - didn't think of it - but God knew that it was a desire of my heart, and he led me to those stamps. Wonderful, and totally weird. It reminds me that even when there are a lot of unknowns in my life, God cares so much about me that even the tiny and unimportant things matter to him.

Across 1,000 Miles

Mon, 27 Jul 2009 22:58:12 GMT

Several years ago I took the best vacation ever, a two-week road trip with my best friend Ruthie in a giant loop around the southwest and Pacific Coast. I know I have blogged about it extensively and posted pictures - if you've been following me for any amount of time (or know me in person) then you probably know all about it.

One of my favorite memories is wandering the California coast and stopping at this cafe called the Marmalade Cafe, where the ambience was quaint, the food was divine and the view was stunning. I never knew exactly where in California that was.

At the end of June we flew to LA for Jeremy and Amy's wedding, and on our way to the chapel for the wedding rehearsal, I was staring idly out the window at the scenery and noticed a sign for the Marmalade Cafe. Instantly, I sat up and started taking notice of the surroundings. It was all right there in front of me - the stunning coastal view, the pet store where the guy had a bunch of puppies on the sidewalk, and of course the cafe itself, sitting in the corner as it had years ago. I recognized it all and in that moment, I felt a surge of joy, a reconnection to that wispy memory that had grown fainter over time. Suddenly, it was there and alive again, vibrant instead of shadowy. Over the next day of events, every time we retraced the path, I recognized other things too - the mountainous highway where we stopped to help a stranded vehicle, and the alcove where we pulled off to the beach and wrote our names in the sand. It all meant something now. It wasn't just the foreign place where Jeremy was getting married - it was the place I had made so many memories with Ruthie. And over the stretch of 1,000 miles, our souls touched each other again.

The State of Things

Sat, 25 Jul 2009 15:06:20 GMT

I have been researching childhood vaccinations and I was reading through some of the information on the HPV vaccine that's being pushed lately. If you don't know, HPV is a sexually transmitted virus. Personally, I will not get Bella (or any future daughters of ours) vaccinated; I will teach them to abstain until they are married and then live an a monogomous relationship. If, as adults, they want to get vaccinated themselves, they can. But here's the thing: the center for disease control wants girls to be vaccinated before their first sexual encounter - so they recommend the age of 11 or 12.

What does that say about us?

The Best Laid Plans

Fri, 24 Jul 2009 13:48:02 GMT

A few weeks ago, it looked like everything was going to work out really well for the fall. I'm watching Wyatt, and his mom is pregnant and so it looked like I would be watching the baby as well. My friend Shari's baby is brand new and when she goes back to school in a month, I would be keeping him as well. I was excited because that would give me two toddlers, around the same age, and two babies, around the same age - and watching three kids would boost our income to the point where budgeting would suddenly seem easy. I was excited.

Now...

Wyatt's family is moving to Louisiana, because his mom got a better job offer there and it's where their family is from. No Wyatt, and no baby.

Shari is dropping down to only working part time.

I'm pregnant.

It all fell apart with no warning, and I'm thinking...."God, are you trying to tell me something?"

I think the answer is yes, but I have NO idea what.

Time to move on?

Wed, 15 Jul 2009 15:06:45 GMT

We've been pretty busy in the past two months. The past three weeks, really. It seems like since most everyone is Facebooking now, xanga blogs are sorely neglected. Facebook does have some cool features - I'm an admitted junkie myself - but at the same time, I love the simplicity of xanga - it's a blog. It's there for me to journal. All other features are extraneous and negligible, and I'm okay with that.

But, do I really need to tell everyone about Jeremy and Amy's wedding? You all saw the pictures on Facebook. Are there any of my friends who actually don't know that I was just in NY for a week? Probably not. So, in light of it all, is it time to say goodbye to xanga and move on to a monogomous relationship with facebook?

I don't think so.

Home Improvements

Wed, 10 Jun 2009 18:46:49 GMT

A few years ago, about when we found out we were pregnant, we started working on some repairs and improvements to the house, inside and out. For years we had just left things as is and not bothered with it, but we finally decided it was time to turn the house we lived in into a home we loved.

We started with the living room. Out went the nasty carpet, and in went cherry laminate flooring. I decided I wanted orange walls, and Josh reluctantly agreed.

It looks great, of course, and we get complimented on it a lot.

Eventually, we'll ditch the old nasty couch, but right now, there are other more pressing things to get done. Next we did the baby's room, which I have blogged before I think, and over last summer we tackled our bedroom. Out went the nasty carpet and in went oak laminate flooring, and I decided I wanted the walls blue. Josh reluctantly agreed.

It looked great, of course.

We still have some molding and trim work to do, but again, one thing at a time.

This spring we've started working on the outside of the house. Josh has developed a green thumb - or at least a green fever. Here's what it was before.

It was cute, but we wanted to change it. Those huge bushes were tiny when we got the house and of course, seven years later they were out of control. And I had never liked the ones one the other side to begin with. Josh spent days clearing out all the bushes and weeds from the beds.

We decided we needed to stain asnd seal the deck - it was looking in pretty rough shape.

Josh picked out a redwood stain, and I reluctantly agreed. It took us both days to stain, much longer than I thought.

It looked great of course. We added the lattace - I don't have a picture of it since it was all completely put on, but it now goes all the way across the front, and then we started adding plants back.

The bush spread over the porch railing is a climbing rose bush with white blossoms when it's in bloom; the pink roses are Queen Elizabeth, and the bush on the right is a very fussy purple Hybrid Tea Rose bush. Josh calls it the retarded cousin.

We planted azalea bushes all along the edge of the property line to try to make it prettier, (gorgeous when they're blooming) plus establish a boundary so that our neighbor's kids don't come over and hack our stuff down, as they have in the past. The pipe has hoels drilled along it and is there as a temporary sprinkler to water the bushes all at once.

Today Josh worked out in the ridiculous humidity to make it prettier.

He dug up the earth around each bush, added in soil, lined it with a cute fence and then topped with mulch.

Here's what the bush looked like before.

And here's after.

We've also been working on container gardening.

We got about half a dozen tomatoes from my plant, and then I killed it. I don't know how or why, but it didn't survive. Josh's pepper plants, though, are started to blossom.

Next year I would like to have raised beds and compost. Josh has all kinds of big plans. I'll keep you posted as we progress.