Author: jenzug

Hey kids – Having fun, missing you lots. Love, Mom.

After breakfast this morning Bryan and I drove around a couple neighborhoods looking for design inspiration in architecture. We drove down Alberta Street and came across this building with corrugated metal siding. Bryan’s been trying to convince me that our house would look cool with this siding, but I was skeptical since the house is a 1910 Craftsman style. The building in these pictures is of a similar style as ours (though much smaller) so it helps give me an idea for his vision.

Corrugated Metal Siding

Then, after reading in a Starbucks for an hour, we attended church at Imago Dei Community in the Laurelhurst neighborhood. I hate going to church on vacation. When I was a kid, my parents always made me attend the tiny country church near our cabin in Northern Minnesota when we vacationed on the weekends. I hated it then, I hate it now. But I love my husband so we went to church.

It was much warmer outside today. I had come prepared for the frosty weather of yesterday, wearing tights and three layers of shirts, sweaters, and jackets, so instead of being comfortably warm I was downright sweating. Seems the Northwest keeps you guessing. At any rate, we had stored all our leftovers from various meals this weekend in the car, figuring the freezing temps would keep it all from spoiling, so after church we pulled it all together and had a leftover picnic in the park with the warm sun on our backs. It was all rather SPONTANEOUS, which seems to be the mood of the weekend.

Picnic in the park.

Later we connected with Mike and Brianna Showell who used to live near us in Seattle. They picked us up and drove us out to the Nike headquarters in Beaverton where Brianna is a Product Line Manager. She does consumer research and trend spotting to help design new shoes, and I got to see all the shoes she was involved with designing. I just have to say that she is a ROCK STAR in my eyes! How crazy is that to be able to see something you created on a sales rack, and watch people try it on, and make a decision to pay money for it? This is the pride I should have for Bryan for all the projects he creates, the websites he designs, the educational systems he’s created. I guess I didn’t really make that connection with him until I saw it in something more tangible for me… like a shoe.

...and these shoes...

It is late, and here we sit: two geeks with our twin laptops snuggled together in bed. We’ve had a great time connecting this weekend, refreshing our vision, readjusting our course, reflecting on the past few months. I am very grateful for every moment, but I miss my kids and can’t wait to see them tomorrow.

I’m having a hard time describing happiness.

I’m not really sure how to describe the feeling the aura the so obviously NOT US nature of this weekend, especially for those who don’t know me in person, but I am having HELLA fun with my booty-licious husband on this weekend getaway.

We are laughing, we are jesting, we are gazing fondly at one another as if on our first date again. And the touching? At dinner last night I felt very strongly that Bryan’s leg be pressed up against mine AT ALL TIMES no matter where he had to itch – I just couldn’t get enough snuggle.

And today we are actually agreeing on what to do next EVEN THOUGH WE HAVE NOT MAPPED OUT A SPECIFIC PLAN FOR THE DAY. Where do I begin to describe the significance of spontaneity in our relationship?

At any rate, we spent the morning in downtown Portland at the mall, then wandered over to Powell’s City of Books (aka the Mecca of bookstores) where we browsed for various things on our list.

IMG_1600

I picked up My Sister’s Keeper and Anansi Boys, books I’m reading for two different book clubs I participate in, plus The Search for Significance, a book recommended by my therapist as a tool to break through the errors in my belief system (like playing the blame game, or being a victim).

As I sit here in the quiet of my hotel room, my mind is clear, and I feel relaxed – both mentally and physically. The stress has melted away, and all the balls I juggle on a daily basis are quietly holstered… in their ball pit… somewhere within this bad metaphor.

During the last week my mind felt so full of information that I couldn’t muster up enough brain cells to make a grocery list. A friend who offered to keep Scout for the weekend wanted to pick her up a day early, and I gazed at her with an empty face as I listened to her ask the question.

“I don’t even know how to make that happen,” I finally said.

And truly, I had no random access memory left to sort through the simple steps of collecting the dog food, the bowls, and the leash. There was too much noise in my head.

This weekend I look forward to experiencing the quietness of spirit to think, to read, and to write as I have very little space in my life for thoughtful, reflective writing. As we checked in late last night there were three guys in the office – one covered in tatts, one with a handlebar mustache, and the other wearing an indie rock band t-shirt. I asked if there was wifi available on site and the three of them lit up like Christmas morning.

“Uh huh!” they all said simultaneously.

“Really?” I asked. “Like, I’ll have internet access in my room?”

Again with the wide eyes and the Cheshire grins, “Uh huh!”

I felt relief again that on this holiday from my hectic life, I can write and blog and reflect in real time. I can create and share things as they happen. If I have an inspiration, I don’t have to store it in my mind, yearning for an opportunity or the energy to express it. If only for a few days, my mind can be free from its daily clutter.

At this moment I could not be happier if it was raining chocolate covered raisins.

In Seinfeld’s world, I would be the Self Talker

Everybody has a nervous social tick.

At least I hope they do, if only to make me feel better about mine.

I talk about myself when I’m nervous. When around people I don’t know, I talk about myself. When found in the midst of an awkward silence, I talk about myself. When I’m with someone who is upset and I don’t know how to comfort her, I talk about myself.

For instance, this morning I attended the adoption hearing for one of my best friends, Sarah, and her husband, Ted, who adopted two children after more than a year of fostering them. Big event, lots of family, huge decision, monumental undertaking, lots of happy crying… you get the idea.

On this big day of celebration where it is SO not about me, I open my big mouth and say to Sarah, “Did you see my new boots?”

That was after telling her about my car being low on gas, not being able to find a parking spot, and breaking two fingernails on my way there.

What the hell?

And yesterday? YESTERDAY, my friend tells me the ultra sound she just received showed signs the baby may have a serious heart condition and the People who know about these things started throwing around words like “echo cardiogram,’ ‘amniocentesis,’ and ‘surgeons.’

After we cry and vent and get pissy about nobody giving them any REAL information, I launch into MY big news about a family transition coming down the pike – as if it’s, like, Show and Tell time and now it’s MY turn.

WHAT THE HELL?

I walk away from these conversations with the classic sitcom slapping of the forehead for being such a dolt, for WHO REALLY CARES ABOUT MY FINGERNAILS on the day their children’s adoption becomes final???

Do I obsess about myself to other people because my daily life consists of coloring, Barney, and conversations about poop missing her mommy? Is it that any adult who crosses my path must endure the crazed ramblings of an introverted woman whose extroverted daughter never stops talking?

Or am I avoiding something, like emotional investment, by keeping the conversation focused on myself? That sounds completely mental, but possible.

My biggest fear is that I am just plain self centered.

I can handle being a crazed housewife or even mentally deranged – they have drugs for that – but I would be devastated if all I am is self centered.

So, my hope is that this is just a nervous social tick, much like Suburban Bliss’s awkward hugs. People still like me – at least I’m pretty sure they do – so I can’t be all THAT bad, right?

Things We Do When Not Watching T.V.

Last night Bryan and I did some creative exploration (okay, that sounded bad). Over the weekend he took short videos of the kids on our digital camera and I wanted to find a way to post it directly into my website. He discovered YouTube, which is a video sharing site similar to Flickr, and voila! This is what happened!

Fun, huh? You’ll have to let me know if it’s a pain in the neck to download on your end.

Last night we also gave Ruthie the camera to shoot her own pictures, which I’ll try to post later today. She ran around the play room in the basement shooting all her favorite things, declaring, “This is my bear. This is my doll. This is my Scout.” Pretty cute. She had a major melt down when we finally took it away from her.

Schmalentine’s Day

I’ve never been a big fan of Valentine’s Day. Really, I haven’t. I find the entire ‘holiday’ quite silly, actually. It never seemed important to me to have a specific DAY when someone was SUPPOSED to do something nice to express their love because this behavior was supposed to be NORMAL for people who love and care for each other.

Right?

One of the ways I have let disappointment swell within me and turn to bitterness is in the area of expectations: I have lots of them, and Bryan doesn’t meet them. This has played out at every anniversary, birthday, and Valentine’s Day since we’ve been married.

I’m a simple girl, I say. I don’t need airplanes dragging messages of love behind them; I don’t need ‘I heart you’ carved out of a corn field; I just want a Hallmark card with something mushy written in it because you are an amazing writer and I love to read every word.

Marriage has been a series of reality checks. Some along the lines of Holy Shit I Can’t Believe I Got Myself Into This, and some along the lines of Damn I Can’t Believe He Puts Up With Me. I have needed to deconstruct many of my expectations – or at least communicate them non-telepathically. He has needed to become more pro-active.

I can’t recall anything in my life I’ve ever persevered through so consistently. I’m the champion of quitters. I rewrote the motto to say, ‘When the going gets tough, try something easier.’ But I have been encouraged by changes I’ve seen in myself, by the efforts I see Bryan making, by the compromises we have made for each other.

When I returned from my weekend away with the ladies, I walked into the house to find a shiny red gift bag filled with raffia sitting on the dining room table. Poking out the top were two red cards – one from the kids and one from Bryan – that said ‘do not open until 2/14.’

I’m still not a big fan of Valentine’s Day, but it has provided a format for us to practice our graciousness, our listening skills, and our love languages. I love you, Bryan. Thank you for loving me.

Hi, It’s Me. I’m Back!

And without warning I left town and bid you no farewell. I spent the weekend at a vacation home on the Straight of Juan de Fuca with seven friends, one tiny baby, and a fabulous view of Canada. There was wine, there was laughing, and a little tinkling in the panties. (oh my!)

Last week I had a revival of sorts in my relationship with Bryan, so on Friday night as we settled in with our jammies and wine I found myself missing him to the point of tears. That felt good, and it was an excellent warm-up to this coming weekend when I will be getting away with him alone.

Marvin Gaye, This One’s for YOU!

I’ve often felt make-up sex was kind of a chicken-egg thing – which comes first? Does a forgiven, healed relationship beget sexual intimacy? Or does marital intimacy help draw you into a place of healing?

I’m learning that sometimes it’s important to just take a step of faith, to extend grace, to do something completely selfless and not expect anything in return. That is, after all, a biblical principle, right?

In considering this, I assumed there would be nothing in it for me, but that couldn’t have been further from the truth. An effort made in Faith and Love – even if done with heaping skepticism – brought about a change in my heart.

Pictures of a cute blonde girl to lighten the mood in here…

Ruthie is all about “doing craps,” as she calls it. Her favorite craft right now is to use her scissors to cut paper into very tiny miniscule little pieces of confetti that flitter about the house clogging up the esophagus of Thomas. It’s amazing (and relieving) to know that a coloring book is just as captivating to her while I’m making dinner as the t.v. used to be. Here are some of the projects we’ve been working on…

Crafting Slideshow

Story Telling the James Frey Way: Everything you are about to read is true – except I didn’t actually see it happen.

I have a friend who is going to massage school.

We all love to have friends like that, friends who give great massages for free. I love that.

She came over last week to teach me how to give Bryan a back massage as part of her student project. While demonstrating, she noticed a large lump on his back that turned out to be a huge ball of knotted muscle tissue. She also noticed Bryan’s left shoulder was tense, as if he was holding it tight, though she couldn’t get him to release it and relax.

She investigated the knot for awhile to see if the two were related.

Gently, she worked the tissue with the heal of her hand, explaining that she was exploring the direction of the muscles, loosening things up, and so forth. Slowly, the knot began to loosen until – POOF! – Bryan’s shoulder dropped. She had finally triggered something in the knot of muscle tissue that released the tension in his shoulder and it relaxed, right there in front of our eyes.

This week I’ve had the distinct feeling that I am holding on to something I should be letting go of, but in my confusion I don’t know what that is, and therefore I don’t know how to let it go.

I am fighting something inside of me, and like Tyler Durden, I am taking that inner battle and turning it outward, releasing my aggression onto others – making them hurt as I hurt, in hopes that their pain will release me from mine.

As I ran my errands this afternoon I thought about that knot in Bryan’s back, and I wondered what pressure was being put on me so I could be released from my own tension.

Not to overdue a good analogy, but having the tension worked out of your back hurts so good, don’t it (insert twang)? I mean, think about it:

How many times during a massage have you groaned, “OOWWWW!”

And the masseuse says, “Is that too much pressure?”

And you say through clenched teeth, “NO! IT FEELS GREAT!”

I have been frustrated. And I’ve said some things. And I’ve said some more things. And now I can’t remember some of the things I’ve said. And the things I DO remember I’ve said, I can’t tell if I really meant them. Was what I said based on a Lie I believe? Or is the confusion over what I said distracting me from the Truth of what I said?

So basically at this point, if you’re just tuning in to my blog, you’re thinking to yourself, “This chick’s not so much fun. I’m going back to reading Dooce.”

But I assure you, Dooce is a little crazy in the head herself. She just uses the delete button more liberally than I do.

Here is the Darkness that is my heart

Yesterday I said some very hurtful things to Bryan – very specific things that cut his heart out. Yet, I am so bitter right now that I can’t bring myself to say I didn’t mean it, because I think I did mean it.

My vision is very clouded right now. I am confused, and can’t see the difference between setting healthy boundaries for myself vs. spewing out spiteful threats.

What lies am I believing about myself? My situation? My perception of the way things are?

What are the Truths I’m standing up for? And is it my place to stand for them?

When is the time for grace and patience, and when is the time for Tough Love?

All I know is that I am so very tired of the way things are right now, and my filters were taking a coffee break, and I said some hurtful things in the heat of the moment.

I am surrounded by women who struggle in the same ways I do, with deep seeded bitterness that lashes out at loved ones. We strike hard at our lowest points of despair because we want to make our loved ones hurt as much as we do inside.

Misery loves company, I suppose.

Yet, as I listen to these women who struggle, and read the things they write about their struggle, I can’t help but notice I’m not feeling the same conviction they feel about their bitterness. I see women who are coming into the light, who struggle still, but see their healing as it washes over them.

But here I sit, looking at my situation, wallowing in my justification.

A friend recently wrote about an argument she had with her husband, saying, “So tonight, rather than holding out until I got an apology, I took his hand and chose to show him love and grace regardless of if he ever admitted his sin.”

How far and for how long am I to extend love and grace into a relationship?

I probably know the answer to that, but right now I am unwilling to acquiesce. Right now, for a little while, I am holding tight to my justification.

Milestones

As Thomas attempts to get around he can’t quite get in touch with his knees. He just pulls himself around on his belly with his elbows as if he’s looking for the nearest fox hole to dive into. I try to direct him in a methodical pattern so as to reduce my need for sweeping, and I find that small, choke-able objects are what best motivates him in a particular direction.

This week he started attempting a textbook crawl, but all he’s managed so far is a sideways crab-like awkwardness on his hands and feet, which only serves to humiliate and frustrate him as you can see by these pictures.

I think what prompted this sudden burst of developmental attempt is his increased caloric intake. At his nine month well-child checkup last week he had dropped below the charts in weight for his age category, so I started feeding him more in hopes of kick starting a growth spurt.

Now, if I could just inject his weight-shedding metabolism into my body….