And He Calls Himself a Connoisseur

The most likable guy on this planet is my brother in law Andrew "Ric" Beesley.

No. I am serious. He is.

Take the most likable person you know. Ok? Got it? Now, inflate that person's likability by 75%. Next, take the bloated likability and triple it. No. Quadruple it. Now spread frothy syrup all of it, roll it in crispy bacon bits and douse it with fresh creme.

That's Andrew.

And I could spend all night telling you about why he's so unbelievably likable, like how he spent his birthday evening cooking dinner for his entire family which was like two thousand (stripling warriors) in laws alone. Or how he taught me invaluable lessons on valuing food--dining with him is a dreamy adventure. Or how he inexplicably fell in love with my sister Lucy after knowing her through her not-so-nice-cheerleader-spoiled-bratty-brat-brat phase in high school and STILL MARRIED her. I mean, once they had english class together and NOW THEY HAVE A BABY TOGETHER? Help me calculate that scenario please because-marrying someone you knew in high school? There are so many complications there . . .

He's enjoyable, easy going, always up for socializing and the guy can hold discourse with just about anyone anywhere. He tells me funny stories with added impersonations and animated eyes. He makes gorgeous wedding rings, pearl earrings and is awfully kind to his customers. AND, he's so old fashioned you'd think he was your grandpa. (And maybe he is . . . did your mom have english class with him?)

Did I mention he wears Newsie caps and always drives the speed limit?

The other night when we were swimming, Chup gave Andrew his special new waterproof HD camera to try out under the waves. Those two, Chup and Andrew are engineers at heart. They like to talk about stuff and how stuff works or how stuff doesn't work but should. It keeps them both entertained so that Lucy and I can talk about things they'd roll their eyes at--like the best show on tv SYTYCD (we fight over Twitch).

And he likes everything quality but uses the word "fancy" instead.

You may be thinking, "Geeze Courtney, why didn't you marry him?"

But the truth is, I've got a stellar merman all of my own:




Happy Birthday Ric Farmer, hope you feel better soon.








sister in law week, hanging out with lindsay:

Oh snap! Freedom Festival tip:

I am c jane and Lucy is one lucky lady.

contact me:
cjanemail@gmail.com

This Post Just Gets Better and Better

Writing for me is my exercise. I used to be an avid walker-- deep breath--but when I walk I have to swing my arms in embarrassing ways that don't lend itself well to stroller pushing. And when the babies go to sleep at night I am usually too tired to go out walking plus it's dark and creepy. So in conclusion Seymour, I choose writing over walking. But that is just the phase I am in. Deep breath.

I told myself yesterday that if I was a very, very good girl and wrote (exercised) at least five times this week on my blog I could have a reward! I was really excited about this reward. Like butterflies in the stomach, rattling around in my throat, and out of my mouth with a shriek sort of reward.

And now I can't remember what that reward was.

When I gave birth two months ago I also signed away the rights to my short term memory. And I wish I could remember that I need to WRITE THESE THINGS DOWN so I don't forget to not forget.

But I am still determined to blog five times this week just in case I remember on Saturday night and I get what I promised myself originally.

I am sure it was something terrific.


Tonight we went swimming at my neighbor Logan's house. Well, he lives up the street and a few blocks over but whatever. I wore a new swimming suit that Cardigan Empire inspired me to buy. Only it doesn't have straps. It's a strapless swimming suit. I don't know if Mormon's can wear strapless swimming suits and consider themselves modest, but there I was. The only other people in the pool beside us were Ric and Lucy and their daughter Betsy. And believe me, all three of them are used to seeing my flotation devises. If you will.

And then.

As we drove home from the swimming pool we passed a whole street full of my neighbors milling about socializing before the end of the day. We drove slowly and waved generously. Then I went into shock because from their angle, no doubt, Chup and I probably looked completely naked. Me in my strapless, Chup without a shirt.

Scandalous?

Well it was. I mean, for my neighborhood. What did they all say as our taillights winked on down the road?

I am not going to think about it.

I'm not.

Instead, I want to tell you something. In the paragraph above I mentioned Logan, Cardigan Empire and Ric and I just realized this: Logan' sister Wendy, Cardigan Empire's creator Reachel and Ric all have the same birthday.

And it is tomorrow.

So happy birthday to all three! My gift to them is the mental picture they will get when they think of me and Chup looking naked driving down the street in our family car.

I am so generous.



Sometimes when I blog late at night I feel sorta loopy and in the morning I have a blogging hang over and I think, Oh dear did I really write that?

Like, flotation devices?


I just fell asleep for fifteen minutes while writing this. When I woke up I read the last line I wrote:

Like, flotation devices?

And I couldn't remember what that meant.

I should start walking again.








my sister in law lisa kicks off sister in law week:

I am only going to remind you once more:

I am c jane if I remember correctly .

contact me:
cjanemail@gmail.com

A and Italics

Lucy and Me this weekend at the Rooster Birthday Party

A.
When first I had my daughter I decided to make it a point to not get all girlie.

Bows, dresses, headbands, pink. PINK EVERYTHING.

I even dressed her mostly in The Chief's green hand-me-downs because it seemed really under-the-radar cool. Like I was more about being practical than prissy and that made me above all the frills. My daughter rocks the frogs and giraffes and so what?

Aa.
Lucy bought me two bags of baby bows. For the first year of her life Lucy's daughter Betsy never went without one jelled onto her little head.

I said, "I don't know."

Lucy said, "Just try it."

I couldn't get them to stay on for more than an hour.

Chup requested I give it up.

Ab.
I have this . . . well . . . my dad calls it "squishy", I have this squishy body. A soft, I-just-gave-birth body, full of curves and flesh. The cheeks on my face have come to full bloom, as have the stretch marks on my lower abdomen. I have lasting proof of fertility all over my being and until I stop the breast-feeding, this substance is here to stay. I would tell it to get comfortable, but it already has.

A year of this body. This one. This body that makes me feel (secretly sassy).

And insecure too.

And I don't have to tell you (but I will) that Chupie likes my extra curvies.


Ac.
Lucy is pregnant.

Ad.
I've been shopping for this body lately. This one. The one that gets to have voluptuous sizes and generous proportions. I take time to consider each piece I purchase carefully: how will it look draped over all of this? I've never done that before. I guess this body is lucky that way.

Ae.
Lucy is seventeen weeks. Not showing yet. Petite and pretty and strong, my sister.

Af.
I want Ever to always love her body. I want her pronounced cheeks to always entertain the crowds like they do now. I want to always count the rings on her thighs as a delightful pastime. I want her to be her full self, spiritually and physically.

Ag.
The more I love her, funny enough, the more I love my body for making her.

All the extra of me is for Ever. But maybe not, forever. I don't know.

Isn't that poetic?

What? A Close Up? What? With drool? Don't ask twice . . .

Ah.
I have started putting bows on Ever.

Ai.
Lucy is having a boy.







announcing . . . sister in law week:

HAAAPPPPPY BIRRRRTHDAAAAY!

I am c jane and I had fun writing this post .

contact me:
cjanemail@gmail.com

Sweet and Sour with Cabbage Dumplings

Seven times before breakfast I thought to myself, Today is a day where I am going to go sit on mom's couch all day and not move.

Then I remembered how impossible that would be because she isn't home.

And really, she won't be home for the next three years.

Which wasn't so sad as it was today when I kept looking at Ever thinking, "We should go walk up and see my mom so she can smooch Ever's face."

Then me: remember? She isn't there.

Lumpy throat.

And because I've been putting cabbage on my chest intermittently for the last twenty four hours, Chup thought I needed an evening drive. So we drove by my parent's house and he held my hand. He even said,

"I am sad too."

This post might be short because I can't see the monitor on my laptop.

Me right now: blurry, teary eyes.

My parents are actually not two minutes away right now at a place called the MTC. It stands for the Missionary Training Center. You go to the MTC for a couple weeks or months before you head out as a Mormon missionary. Because my dad is going to be a Mission President, my parents will be in the MTC for only five days. Then they will fly out to St. Louis Missouri to live for the next three years where they will help the 180 missionaries in that mission.

Miss. Ouri.

Miss.

See when you are Mormon (are you?) you aren't paid to do these things, you are called. And when you are called you go. You do. It is hard, you miss your family (we can go out and visit!) but you are blessed. And that is why you do it.

When you are a missionary, you are called by the prophet--President Monson and you are "set apart" meaning that you have a special purpose. So on Wednesday my family--half of them anyway--went to Salt Lake City to our church HQ. There, in a beautiful room my parents were set apart by one of the twelve apostles--Robert D. Hales. He was incredibly loving towards our family. I told Chup he was exactly what I believe is Christ-like. I wanted him to stay with us all day. And when he asked if we had any questions, I wanted to ask him so many questions I started to get dizzy. Then I turned to Chup and said, "Should I ask him if we can take a family photo with him?"

But I didn't, and Chup said,

"It was meant to be."

Before he left, he told us our mother was the barometer of the family. If the family is well, our mother will be happy. Conversely, if someone in the family isn't well, our mother cannot be either. It's the nature of mothers.

"If you want to help your mother, be good," he advised.

Then Ever started fussing and I nursed her in that beautiful room.

When that was over my family started to leave the room and gather in the foyer. Then surprisingly we found ourselves being invited to meet the prophet. The prophet. Our prophet. We spent well over a half hour in his office talking to him. Actually, he talked to us--telling us stories about growing up with our Grandma Marion Larsen at Vivian Park and how he fell in love with his wife Francis. And he let us look in his desk:

It was surreal. Because if you are Mormon (are you?) you know how much we adore our prophet. We sing a hymn that about him: We thank thee O God for a prophet, to guide us in these latter days. He is a prophet of God and the leader of our church.

(You can read more about him here.)

Ever was still a little fussy, so I didn't stay in the office as long as everyone else. I went out in the foyer to bounce her around. My mom followed me out. Because see? Elder Hales was so right.

Me: I miss my mom so much already. Did I mention?

Then we watched my parents get in their car and leave--a la the bride and groom off to honeymoon--to the MTC where they will be for awhile before Miss. Ouri. Which sorta brings me full circle.

And I just barely--whist writing this posty--had to remind myself again how I can't go up to my mom's house tomorrow to show her how funny it is to have cabbage leaves on my chest. Or how over the last twenty four hours The Chief only melted down twice(!) and Ever started to turn over and I rubbed off all the dark nail polish she didn't like on my nails and Chup fixed his vintage scooter and would she like a ride around the block?

Instead I'll just be good and go to bed.

My mom always worries I stay up too late.

I am c jane and if my internet friends can help me cure mastitis with cabbage leaves can they also make three years go by really fast?

contact me:
cjanemail@gmail.com

The Day I Really Loved the Lady at the Bagel Shop

This morning I woke up with Ever Jane burrowed next to my side. I gingerly rotated my body so as not to wake the darling up. In doing so I quickly noticed I was not even two inches away from falling off the bed. Since when does Ever get the whole bed to herself?

Chup was up making pancakes.

We have my brother Steve and his family staying with us for a bit. The Chief was running around with his cousin Maggie strategically avoiding eating breakfast. The boy doesn't like breakfast. But he sure likes to wake up before the sun rises and stay up until the dizzy spell of late afternoon.

I stayed in bed listening to all the downstairs noises.

Chup was saying, "It's four thirty time to make donuts!"

An my sister in law Suze was laughing.

I sat in the chair in my room. I read a scripture. I said a little prayer. I imagined having a super power. I imagined that super power to be the ability to love sincerely everyone I encountered that day.

I had a meeting downtown. Justin, Mindy, Sarah and me.

Those three? Easy to love.

I had lunch with my nieces Emily and Lindsay.

They make me genuinely laugh. Maybe that is their super power?

Suze looked up "cures for mastitis" and "cures for diaper rash" for me when the babies napped. I may be suffering from one out of two of those maladies. Or both. I will keep you guessing.

I love helpful people.

My sister in law Megan took The Chief and tossed him into the mix of her bouncing household. I love willing babysitters.

Later I got my hairdid by my hair therapist Ashlee and when I had to meet my family for dinner she asked Destiny to help blow dry my mane so I could make it on time. This blog testifies how much I love Ashlee, she is the Hair Whisperer. Without her there is no me. Real me.

And Destiny? I have loved her since the beginning of our studio relationship. I loved her even more after she showed me her tattoos. The tattoos she regrets.

At dinner I loved my brother Steve for letting The Chief drink all of his Vitamin Water and sit in his seat making it so Steve had to sit at an entirely different table alone.

I loved my mom and dad for proudly wearing their "I Voted" sticker in public.

Tonight I loved The Chief for folding his arms when we said our family prayer. It made me forgive him for the ear melting scream he let fly in the restaurant when I tried to give Steve's Vitamin Water back. I was too lazy to be mortified, but I wasthisclose . . .

And right now? I love Ever for looking so pink and perfect in her jammies sleeping soundly all wrapped in her silky quilt. And for snorting every twenty minutes or so. How could I not love a newborn snore?

And I forgive her too for taking up the whole bed this morning, even though she is a tiny pea of a person.

I think my super power dreams came true today.

Tomorrow I am going to imagine having the super power of curing the world of mastitis.






a new blog to love:

something for a summer night:

I am c jane and I don't have diaper rash.

contact me:
cjanemail@gmail.com

And I Love the Way She Pronounces the Word 'Pithy'

I shall preface this post by saying this:

I paid the charming Sophie Uliano of Gorgeously Greento write this post.

And for those who don't like sarcasm, I shall say this:

I did NOT pay the charming Sophie Uliano of Gorgeously Green to write this post.

But what I did do--after I met her at the Casual Bloggers Conference--was agree to a blog switch.

You write for me, I will write for you.

That sort of a thing.

So here is her post.

It may sound like I paid her to write it.

And maybe I did . . .

But maybe I didn't . . .

Courtney Kendrick – hellooooooo!

by Sophie Uliano

I arrive in Salt Lake City to speak at the Casual Blogger’s Conference in a bit of a state. Not being a good flyer, our initial descent into the airport was pretty hairy, but nothing prepared me for the final descent, where our plane, (which suddenly felt like a tiny plastic toy in the sky), was bashed side-to-side and up and down by some very unpleasant head/tail winds. Thinking my last moment was coming up, I turned to the man beside me for comfort, only to find him violently barfing into a paper bag, which clearly was too small for the job!

I then had to leg it to my hotel and the conference. Sweaty, out of breath and visibly rattled, I quietly took my reserved front row seat just in time to hear the top-billed keynote speaker Courtney Kendrick.

Have to back up a bit: a gorgeous lady, Veronica, had picked me up from the airport and had talked about Courtney all the way to the hotel. Admittedly I had asked her who Courtney was (already feeling a little nervous about the her buzz in Utah), and Veronica got fired up – Courtney was amazing, has this incredible following etc – she even told me her family’s incredible story, which had me totally hooked in. The short trip was better than a good Oprah episode, however, it left me feeling a little inadequate. I was to speak after Courtney, and I’m not even an official blogger. OMG, what was I going to say? I had never spoken at a blogger’s conference before. I’d spouted forth at Green Conferences galore about my Green thing – hmmmmmmm – this was going to be an on-the-fly situation.

Back in my front row seat, I look across the row and Courtney’s entire family (very large), are there to support her. The crowd is hanging on her every word. Now I really want to crawl into a cave. What had possessed me to come to Utah and speak for these professional bloggers???

As I listened to Courtney all my anxiety began to dissolve – not because she wasn’t brilliant, but more because the skill and ease with which she captivated the audience, had me totally drawn in. Courtney is such a beautiful writer – edgy, pithy, everything that my book editor said I needed to me in my blogs (and am clearly not!). More than anything, she’s inspirational and I luuuuuuuuuve to be inspired. Courtney tapped into the deep part of me that needs to express myself on the page. She showed me how moving people to laugh and cry with words, is perhaps more important than giving tips and “expert” advice on green living.

Okay mystery solved – I’ve spent months wondering why some bloggers get a mega-following? The answer is 2 words: good writing, and boy or boy does our Courtney have the knack.

I took my place behind the podium, feeling strangely connected to a crowd of total strangers. Courtney had bought us all together and leveled the playing field. Her vulnerability and humor made it possible for me to just be authentic and as all my favorite spiritual gurus have said: The greatest gift you can ever give is your true self.

I left Utah with a renewed passion for writing, ignited in large part, by the radiant Courtney Kendrick.

Thank you Sophie.

You can read my post about Sophie on the Gorgeously Green blog. It's called Gorgeously Green (with Envy).

Please note, she paid me for this post with organic bath salts.

Just kidding. She DIDN'T pay me in organic bath salts.

I am c jane and I pay people to write posts like this about me.

I DON'T pay people to write posts like this about me.

contact me:
cjanemail@gmail.com

Happy Daddy's Day (Yesterday)

I like to look at the photos in my camera
and find that more than half of them
were taken by my husband
while holding our children
(when nobody is watching).

I am lucky.

did you win chupie's giveaway?

Good bye spring:

I am c jane and I love daddies.

contact me:
cjanemail@gmail.com

RAD: Family, Religion and Mean Comments

Our family on Memorial Day weekend sans The Nielsons and my brother Andrew.
Oh and Chup, because he's taking the photo

1. Your family seems so close. What is the key to a close knit family?

It is true, we are a close family.

But it needs to be said also, we aren't perfect.

We have the pains and complications that accompany big families. We've got our jealousies, our rivalries, our "oops-that-teasing-went-too-far" moments. Like our last family gathering where Jesse made fun of my shirt because it was too tight and I made fun of Matt's white turtleneck because who wears a turtleneck on Memorial Day weekend? Then I called Matt "The Captain" and Jesse added, "Permission to come aboard?" And then the whole family was laughing and Matt reverted to ignoring us and I asked my mom if I could wear her jacket.

Last week I emailed one of my brothers and demanded that he apologize for making fun of me behind my back at another family gathering. After his apology he blamed Lucy for being the one who told on him. Lucy in turn got testy with me even though I never said she was or wasn't the one who told me, but we all made up over rice krispy squares at another family gathering at Molly's cafe. And just to make sure there were no residual hard feelings, Topher, Lucy and I took our families to the Carrillon Bells concert tonight after having fish tacos and Vanilla Coke.

Is it starting to sound like all family drama starts with me at family gatherings?

I have been called The Engine of the family you know . . .

Anyway.

No, we aren't perfect, but I can say this about my siblings, we are all trying to be good people. We try to honor our religion, magnify our faith, grow our own families and be happy. I don't know if my parents believe there is some "secret" to parenting but they did their best and we are the fruits of their labors. They tried to follow the teachings of our church leaders who have asked us to do three specific things as a family:

1. pray as a family daily.
2. read scriptures as a family daily.
3. have an evening one night a week (Monday) dedicated to the family. We call it Family Home Evening. It is a time for teaching the gospel, coordinating family events and, the best part, having a TREAT.

My parents also guarded family time like a pit bull at a bank. We spent lots of time together as a family, for better or for worse, but it made us comfortable being around each other. We still feel that way.

And also, if we ever fought with each other my mother would first threaten "I am going to call your father at work!" then she'd make us wash windows together--same window, opposite side. So we'd be staring at each other as we sprayed and wiped Windex over dozens of window panes. It was a very embarrassing process. Now I wonder if she got that idea from an episode of Little House on the Prairie.

Most of all though, nothing was taken too seriously.

And it still isn't.

Obviously.


2. You are a Mormon, what exactly do you believe?

Here is the quick version:

We believe that our church is the same church that was established by Jesus Christ when He lived on the earth.

If you'd like to know more about that you can read the Articles of Faith and if you decide to do that, I will tell you that I know each article by heart and I believe them with all my heart.

Also, if there was one thing I'd want people to know about being Mormon it is this, we believe in personal revelation from God. God is our father in a very real sense. We believe that he talks to us, guides us, answers our prayers and leads us to back home to live with Him. Just like any compassionate father would. And for me, I think the times I need my Father in Heaven most is when I am confused, hopeless or lacking knowledge. It's when I don't understand something that I get the most out of our relationship, because He teaches me--through spiritual promptings and impressions. And I learned how this process worked by studying about Jesus Christ and the Holy Ghost from the scriptures and modern-day council from our church leaders. I count this as the greatest element in my life.

And we want everyone to have this in their lives. It is the most absolute security. That's why preaching the gospel is so important to us.

Knock. Knock.

3. How do you handle mean comments?

Funny thing about mean comments. Sometimes they hit really close to my heart. The hardest hitting ones usually confirm my fears about myself. I have to re-evaluate what I believe about me, my family and my faith.

Oddly, I find reading mean comments therapeutic because here are these statements, made for the whole world to read, and I have to decide WHY they hurt. And then, I get to grow. I get to say "Oh here is a weakness" and I have the opportunity to make it a strength. It's like going through therapy in public--a facing of fears if you will.

I used to think the whole "c jane you are narcissistic" line was hurtful--because I was narcissistic. These days I don't have time afforded me to perfect the art of selfishness (is it really an art?), I really don't think I am narcissistic (is that narcissistic to say that?) so that comment is just wasted space in the world wide web. I don't fear negative comments as much as I used to. I dare say, they make me a stronger person.

(But don't tell the trolls I said that.)




Thanks for a fun week. I've really enjoyed myself. I didn't come anywhere near to answering your great questions I get in my in box and beyond. But we've got time, don't we?

love,
c jane




Chup hosts his first giveaway. I am so proud:

It's Hackworth time baby:

I am c jane and I love you.

contact me:
cjanemail@gmail.com

Interrupting RAD Week to Say to My Sister . . .

Last night when I was out to dinner with some friends I was informed my sister Stephanie, the Beloved Nie of the Blogosphere had been released from her personal prison-- the hospital. I tried not to look like a loser for not knowing before half the planet knew, but when I arrived home I checked my family email and her blog lo and behold it was true!

Now to be fair, Steph had texted me that very morning and didn't say a word about her discharge from Camp Newneck. I had a day yesterday where the cleaning of my house took precedence over just about everything else, including my usual nooner with the computer. And at naptime, the golden computer time of the day, I had to run errands which included taking some safety cones to Lucy, a bathing suit to Topher and a stop to get my favorite treat these days-- an icee at the Surf n Slurp. And the other device of internet capabilities--my phone--was (as usual) not on my person (under the couch) for most of the day. Anyway, these are my excuses for being the last person on planet earth to know of this happy occasion.

She was in that hospital for a month. It was really hard for her. She had to be away from her children and the rest of decent society. Plus, pain.

One day I got a text from her:

Court, I need to get out of here. I am not kidding.

I texted back.

Hang in there Cub! You can do it!

She texted back.

No. It's like being in the Chokey.

So I texted back.

No. It is called the Pokey.

The term of endearment for prison, right?

Then she texted back again.

No way. Chokey.

And that reminded me of a similar conversation hours after she delivered her oldest child Claire at the Utah Valley Regional Hospital. We were watching Live! with Regis and Kelly, when Kelly was somewhat new to the show.

"Oh," said Stephanie, "I like Kelly Pipa."

"It's Ripa," I corrected. "Kelly Ripa."

"No. It's Pipa. Kelly Pipa."

And back and forth and repeat. Until a nurse walks in and confirms my story.

To her credit, we laugh about that incident a lot and she never blames her confusion on residual affects of an epidural. Good on her.

But I guess what I didn't know this time around is that the Chokey is a horrible place where children are stashed in the book Matilda. I've only read James and the Giant Peach. But Pokey, Chokey, sound equally appropriate in this situation.

Not that Maricopa Medical Center (that is for you Mr. Murphy) isn't a swell place. Not that there aren't loving nurses and attentive doctors and fancy flaming murals on the walls, but my sister, possibly the World's Greatest Homebody is never happy anywhere other than her own nest.

So cheers to you Cub! Welcome home and by home I mean, your half-way house. It isn't really home until you are back in Provo calling around the neighborhood for a lost Jimmy and eating your signature Va-Nie-lla cupcakes.





Chup goes a little bit cheaper here:

I found you a place to live:

I am c jane and I Pokey, Chokey, Pipa, Ripa let's call the whole thing off.

contact me:
cjanemail@gmail.com

RAD: All About the Babies

Here are some questions I am asked on a regular basis about us and babies:

1. How did you finally get pregnant after five years, treatments?

Well, it all started with a special hug . . .

Ok, not that version.

We did one round of Clomid chased by an adventurous moment in time with Intrauterine Insemination. Good times. Didn't work.

I cried for a month straight. Dehydration set in. Chup said, "No more treatments" in the same intonation as "No more monkeys jumpin' on the bed."

So we took the faith route. We prayed to our Heavenly Father about it. One day while taking our dog for a walk, I had an impression that we'd have babies. I say impression because it was a thought in my head that infused a solid sense of peace on my soul. It was a revelation divinely implanted. I felt absolute joy in the quietest part of me. I knew. I knew we'd have babies.

Then I forgot/lost hope.

Then I remembered.

Then I forgot/lost hope.

Then I had dozens of signs from the universe backing up the original answer to my prayers.

Then I came to conclusion where I decided to be happy even if I didn't have faith to believe we'd have babies.

Then we were pregnant.

By-the-way, should you be in the same boat, I believe Heavenly Father will answer your prayers if you ask. He will patiently guide you to parenthood. Listen to the thoughts He sends to your mind and heart. If they are messages that induce chills, host butterflies in either the throat or stomach, or fill your being with sheer happiness they are of God. If they are messages that seem impossible, miraculous or just a little bit scary they are of God. They also can be simple waves of quiet confidence in knowing you are headed in the right direction. Anyway you feel it, trust it. Believe me, trust it. Even/ especially when you forget/lose hope.

And there you go.



2. What advice do you have for those experiencing infertility?

A while back I wrote an email to a reader who was asking about how to endure the internal commotion of not getting pregnant when everyone else seems to do so effortlessly. This is what I believe about this particular trial:

I am so glad you wrote me. I know exactly how you feel. And I guess having been on the other side of things I can tell you that these emotions that you are feeling are sanctifying you for motherhood. This is how you are preparing for babies, how to be strong and withstand confusion, sadness and wild emotions (all of which you will feel with more intensity as a parent, I suppose). I can't tell you how grateful I am for the challenge of fertility, it made me a much better person than I would've been had my baby come to me without the five years of emotional adventure. And when I hear of other woman experiencing the same, I am a little heart broken, but mostly happy for them because it is an opportunity to grow an expand in both empathy and compassion.

The hardest part (as you know) is having to talk about it. I had the line "We will take babies as soon as the Lord wants to send them." If you put the Lord in your corner, no one can contend with that, right? But it was also nice to have a community of family and friends praying for us. It never hurts.

Also, it sounds like my husband was much like yours (and a lot of husbands are) they are not equipped with our mother's hearts, and don't feel the monthly loss so keenly. But I learned to appreciate my husband's stability and even lack-of-emotion (though not at first, I wanted him to be just as sad as I was) because it balanced me out.

But most of all, it really is about the Lord's timing. He knows when that baby needs to come to you. Clomid or not. The trick is to enjoy your life in the meantime. Indulge your husband and sleep in as much as you want and love yourself if/when your period starts.

Of course, this is all so easy for me to say now. But I am telling you the things I needed to hear when I was right where you are now. Mostly that us unexplained infertility sisters? We're the lucky ones.


3. Would you do another non-medicated birth? And if so, WHY???

Here is the deal about that whole deal.

Now that I look back on Ever's birth I see things a little more clearly.

The pain? Hmm. Yes it hurt. It was pounding and brutal. Then there was the part when I felt my body split in two . . .

But.

But it wasn't the physical pain that astounded me about that experience. For me, the pain? Meh. It was shortly lived and gone the second the baby left the (fleshy) building.

But.

The pain coupled with the metaphysical?

Holy.

It was the stretching of my spirit that really shook my core. The psychological impact that comes from going to a place where earth meets heaven and tiptoeing along that blurry line of life and death. It was the part where I felt the weight of something so huge, so much bigger and more fantastic than anything I could have ever imagined. It was closing my eyes and seeing a checkerboard sphere rolling around like I was viewing pure energy at a molecular level. It was completely psychedelic and strange and completely awe-some.

And when I think the physical feeling of my body splitting open I also think my spirit was doing the same. In that process, my spirit made more of me to be able to contain all of that experience. Like a hand inside a latex glove, I was filled with humanity, expanding, extending, magnifying. I was more. And I will never get over the residual memories--they still astound me.

Are you kidding me?

I can't wait to do it again.







You have to see Chup's photos here:



Or read Chup's vividly written father's day gift guide post here:

I am c jane and it's worth it. Whatever it is.

contact me:
cjanemail@gmail.com

We're On Our Way Over

Since it's Reader Appreciation Week I thought I'd ask if I could visit my reader's blogs, if that isn't too intrusive.

Will you invite me over to your blog? Maybe I can say hello to the husband and children? Or the family dog? (Does he bite?)



More FAQs to come tomorrow . . .I see you there, on the edge of your seat.






Stop and . . .




I am c jane and I told you I cared.

contact me:
cjanemail@gmail.com

FAQ of the Matter

Me sharing my gift to the Casual Bloggers Conference --photo thanks to Lindsey Redfern from the r house

So back in the prehistoric blogging days, I did this feature called Reader Appreciation Day or RAD as it came to be called. RAD was a way of thanking my kind readership for letting me take their time with my blogging. As a token of appreciation, I let them ask me whatever questions they wanted and I promised to write each and everyone of them back for 24 hours in my comment section.

It was also a testament to my untied-up lifestyle. At that point, I could cuddle with my computer for 24 hours and come up with clever responses and witty c janeisms. In those days I also had the dexterity to pat myself on the back for such blogging heroics. Today? No chance.

In fact, as I write this Ever is crying in her crib because, as it turns out, she likes to think she is my fifth appendage and how could I do anything (like blog) without her attached to my being? Excuse me. I am going to rock her back to sleep where she belongs.

And I am back. With a slightly less heavy chest (should you want to know).

I have been thinking lately that it's about time to bring back RAD, because all readers need to know how much they are appreciated. Really. In light of this, I am going to take some time this week to answer the questions I get asked frequently. Or not so frequently. Or just really interesting inquires I've had lately.

And no, I won't be answering any "where did Nie get her toadstools on her back porch?" type questions because right now Nie and I save our correspondence for more important matters like "Wanna see pictures of the flesh fest Ever Jane?" to which she answers, "Yes please" because she has been in the hospital for a month in Arizona right since after Ever was born, and I happily oblige with seven trillion email attachments.

And so forth.

So without any further ado, or adon't, here is the most frequently asked question of my life:

1. What is The Chief's real name/ Why do you use Ever's real name but not The Chief's?

When The Chief was born I decided not to publicize his name. I wish I could explain why I felt like keeping his name secret, I just did. Maybe it was the desire induced by new motherhood to protect? Really, I can't say. But I made a statement that I wouldn't write his real name on my blog and I've stuck with that decision. Not that you can't find his name on the internet or in my past comments section, or on my Facebook wall. I realize it is out to the public. But I like that he is The Chief around here, and I like keeping his real name quiet.

But I don't feel that way about Ever.

There you go.



2. Are you a soprano or an alto?

Let's just say this: I don't like labels being stamped on my vocal range. I am both. All of it. That too. In fact, I am more than a soprano or an alto. I am a gift. A hot revelation.



Let's be clear on that.


3. Should I start a blog?

I don't recommend blogging to anyone with personalities subject to addiction. Blogging is highly addictive. Once you get your first comment on your first post you will be hooked. Like a fish to the worm. Then you will use the comment count to determine your daily net worth. If blogging is the new virtual community then comments are the currency. The more you have the richer and happier you are (so you think). It can cause complications with your confidence and plague you with self doubt.

But otherwise, yes start a blog.


4. How tall is Chup?

He is six feet and five inches tall.

Now I know you are now going to ask how tall I am.

I am five feet and three inches tall.

There is some serious height discrepancy there, right?

I get called "shorty" a lot by my spouse, but the truth is, I am only one inch shorter than the average American woman. But Chup, he's a lot taller than the average American man. So in reality, I am not short, he's just really tall. For America.

And anyway, I always aimed to marry a tall, meaty man (of any nationality). So really, the discrepancy is just a proof of the fact that I always get what I want.

5. How do you always get what you want?

I like you, but I can't divulge all my secrets on day one.





If I have questions for this week's RAD feature where do I ask them?

Email baby. cjanemail@gmail.com

Unless you are throwing spam my way. Gross. Unless you live in Hawaii and like Spam.

(Still gross.)




chup continues his guide to your father's day gift giving:

I am c jane and like asking questions more than answering them. IRL.

contact me:
cjanemail@gmail.com

Chup's Picture of the Week: Vocabulary

OH, Cleveland. Spent the entire week there. When I got back My Little Buddy wanted desperately to show me something. It was not a pwen (plane,) vrahm (motorcycle,) cruck (truck,) kekikroktra (helicopter) or a brahg (taking guesses....) but this little chair Mom bought while I was away. He took my finger and pulled me out into the Green Room to show me. Wasn't satisfied until he turned it around, positioning it just...so, and then resting his little hands on the arms with a HUGE smile, he says: "Churr!" So good to be home. -ck

Back to Work

For the past six weeks I did almost nothing. I mean, besides keep a newborn alive. The path from my bed to the bathroom and back was well trodden. Life was slow in motion, each day impossibly long. I would start the day by opening my shutters to the morning sun and sit there until I could see the mountain colored by the sunset. What has been a postpartum period has seemed more like a decade of my life. I bowed out of mostly all of my responsibilities, even the ones associated with being a mother.

My husband did everything. Laundry, cleaning, cooking, answering the door, scrubbing the kitchen floor, and carried anything that weighed over ten pounds. He became the sole caretaker of The Chief-dressing him, changing him, putting him to bed and waking up with him at hours of the night we haven't known since college. And he did it willingly, because he wanted to help me. And I love him for it.

But last week I started to feel emotionally claustrophobic. My thoughts weren't going anywhere, they were just sticking inside my brain and rotting my hope. I felt like I was a human snow globe, shaken up and full of floating bits in my head. Nothing was settled. I had completely forgotten who I was and wondered when things would look familiar again.

Then Chup went out of town for a week leaving me with the two children and a foreign life.

It was the best thing in the world for me.

This week has reawakened me. It called me out of the shadows of postpartum. This is who I am, mother of two. And I like it. I like being a mother. I like the problem solving, the physically challenging mornings, the cleaning, the piles on the laundry floor. I like taking a shower as if I were a CIA operative who has to get in and get out before all hell breaks loose. I could eat my nap time like dessert, and drink bath time to follow. I like cheese sandwiches.

I have fallen back in love with motherhood.

And now it comes in pink.



My fellow Americans:





I am c jane and I am back.

contact me:
cjanemail@gmail.com