12 years ago today...

my husband gave me the first of what would be many, many silly sports analogies:

"So let's say I was going for a lay up--would I make a slam dunk or would I be rejected?"

Translation: If I ask you out right now would you say yes or no?

My response:

"You never would have been rejected."

I'm not exaggerating when I say I knew long before that moment that I was going to marry him. Jon is one of the very few things in my life I saw, wanted, and pursued until I had it. Somehow I knew he was the only person who would ever truly 'get me', and 12 years later, snuggled in bed together with Owen between us and Jack at our feet, I'm pretty sure I hit a grand slam.

Why I barely slept last night

I finally called my mom for the details on renting the club house at their apartment community. Step one to planning Owen's first birthday party! Can this really be happening??

I don't know that I could handle it if the rest of my years with him go by this fast.

One of those moments I don't want to forget

Jon: "Part of the meeting was they asked me to draw three things that have impacted my life. I drew a ring, a little boy looking out over the bars of his crib, and a cancer ribbon. The first two are obvious--you and Owen--the third was because of all the people we've lost to cancer. I told them that I don't know anyone who has survived it."

Me: "You lied."

Jon: "No I didn't. Who?"

Me: "Think about it. Losing her may have devastated you more than anyone else."

Jon: "Oh wow!"

Me: "Your Aunt Char recovered from her breast cancer so well that you forgot she even had it!"

Jon: "That's amazing."

Me: "I know. I've got goosebumps."

Making deals with God

Most people don't know this, but I donated blood the day before Rick died. I'd never donated before but I woke up that morning with the most magnificent idea. I had a deal for God: I'd donate my blood to help replace the multiple bags Rick had needed since learning of his cancer. I'd help give back what he took, and in return, God would spare his life. It felt like such the perfect plan that I may or may not have imagined myself shaking hands with God, making the deal unofficially official. I was going to save Rick's life.

I waited an hour in the traveling blood clinic. I sat patiently and watched as potential donors checked their watches repeatedly. Some just shook their heads and continued to wait, and others walked away. I watched a man faint as he climbed down from the donation table and he had to be placed in a special chair that could be laid back to help re-circulate his blood. I was a little freaked out, but I wasn't going anywhere. And when it was all said and done, after they'd interrogated me for my health record, and taken my blood, I walked out of there feeling like a rockstar with a bandage on my arm and a half eaten bag of Famous Amos cookies in my hand. I couldn't wait to walk into the hospital later sporting my "I Donated Blood Today!" sticker and whenever someone asked me about it I was going to say, "I did it for Rick."

He died 20 hours later.

Grief consumed my family after that and I didn't think much about my blood or giving it away. That is, until I received a thank you letter from The Red Cross. It said THANK YOU FOR SAVING A LIFE in bold, red letters across the top. I started crying, then sobbing, then ripping the letter into tiny pieces as I screamed, "But I saved the wrong life!"

I don't believe that anymore.

At some point along the way I put my anger aside and was able to come to my senses. I now give blood whenever I'm eligible. I situate myself on a large metal cot. I watch as the nurse swabs my arm with iodine. They prick me with a needle and I watch my blood flow into a bag at my side as I squeeze and release a therapeutic ball. All the while I think about my brother. I still do it for him and for all the kind people who donated their blood to keep him alive as long as he was. It's like a memorial for him every 56 days, and I walk away feeling like a rockstar every time, because even though my blood didn't save my own brother, it CAN save someone else's loved one.

My Heart

 

I snapped this photo just before lunch on Monday and then I emailed it to Jon with the caption: "Why I need to be home ALL THE TIME!"

Don't worry, these are happy tears!

The last time my siblings and I all posed before a camera together was the summer of 1993, maybe? All I really know for sure is I was 11-years-old, we were in Lac du Flambeau, Wisconsin for a family reunion, and there were plenty of big bangs, mullets, and teenage acne to go around. Too much information? Sorry, what I'm trying to get at is we don't have a recent picture of the 6 of us and when my brother Rick passed away last year so did our chances of getting one.

So, as a surprise Christmas gift, my brothers and sisters and I decided to do the next best thing: take a picture of the 5 of us and Photoshop Rick in there. I know it sounds a little creepy, but the final result -- framed, matted, and wrapped in shiny Christmas paper -- brought tears to our mom and dad's eyes:

 (From left to right: Kristin, Rob, Kimberly, Ron, me, and Rick above.)

A special thanks to my mother-in-law, Christine, for taking time out of her busy schedule to snap some photos of us, and to my nephew-in-law for using his crazy awesome Photoshop skills to help us make the perfect gift for our parents.

Funny how we never did this before saying time and schedules wouldn't allow, but when it NEEDED done, we did it, and we had a good time!

Here are few additional shots from our "photo session":

 

P.S. Yes, Kristin is VERY pregnant, like due-any-minute-now pregnant. No, I am not even though it looks that way!

Top 10 reasons extended weekends float my boat

1. Unlimited time with Owen and his toys and his laugh and his mad musical talents.

2. Sweatpants 'round the clock.

3.Morning nap.

4. Owen!

5. Law & Order marathons.

6. Sleeping in.

7. Blogging mid-day.

8. Owen!

9. Afternoon nap.

10. Owen!