Blissfully Overwhelmed

You know those people who say, "I like to be busy"?
I'm totally one of those people.
I love to have things going on and scheduled. When I open up the calendar app on my phone, seeing little dots on dates makes me feel quite important.
You can imagine how thrilled I have been these last couple of months and how much I'm looking forward to the months ahead.

We can officially say “We get married this month!” (WOOOOOOOOO HOOOOO!!!!)

Samma has Kindergarten Round-up this coming week and in two weeks, Logan will be walking into his new classroom at his new school! (We got a lot of great advice and are starting him in April so he makes some friends before summer vacation)

House Construction: Phase One is in full swing, Joe's house is covered in sawdust and little bits of sheetrock. He is very handy and we are doing what we can ourselves.

It is our lofty goal that all four kids have their own bedrooms the week after Easter!

Joe is rocking his new job and is crazy busy with that... My job has been awesome and busy--Can you believe I've been here almost a year???

In a few weeks, we will have Sam in soccer on Tuesdays and Thursdays, Logan in baseball on Mondays and Wednesdays and Samma and Max playing on the same soccer team... Also Mondays and Wednesdays. Oh--and there will be about a month in there where Samma also has dance on Wednesday nights--scheduling glitch involving Dots not being placed on my calendar. Long story.

We'll figure it out, though. Dance culminates on May 20th after her recital.

(...Ironically, this is also the weekend of the Fargo Marathon where Joey and I will be running the 10k in Jodi's honor... Buuuut, again, we'll figure it out. Probably.)

I am just so ... Happy. 

And, with our lives going a million miles an hour .... I am Content.

I get to marry one of the most amazing men in the world.

We are getting married outside (weather permitting) with just our parents, siblings and kids in attendance. Nothing fancy. It's just for "us."

And that is so perfect.

The plan was also to have a reception in July. I was beyond excited about this. We put a hefty deposit down on a fabulous location in Minneapolis. We were making plans (read: Pinteresting) and (Joe was) making spreadsheets.

We were talking bands vs. DJ's, cupcakes vs. an actual cake and figuring out the logistics of Open bar for X Amount of time vs. Free wine and beer all night.

Not that these are not important things to be discussing...

But we came to the conclusion that they really paled in comparison to the real issues at hand: 

Making sure this move-in, re-arrangement and adjustment is as smooth and wonderful as possible for those four little stinkers. 

That is Job 1. 

And it has been going incredibly well. 

We do not want to ever drop the ball where they are concerned.

We are also, of course, moving The Blondes and me out of our house, putting an insane amount of both our stuff in storage (Anybody need... Anything?? Because we have two of absolutely everything. Seriously. Let us know what you want.) And we will begin our major summer construction project shortly. 

SO, we made the tough decision to not do a reception right now.

I know. 

Was I looking forward to partying the night away with some awesome and supportive people? Oh yes. Was I eager to show off my dance moves with my super sexy hubby? Uh huh.

I'll be honest, I am "mourning" the loss of the amazing vision I was cooking up in my head.

But when I brought up the possibility of maybe... not having this on our plate this summer... We were both relieved.

So, all y'all, consider yourselves officially Uninvited to the most amazing celebration that never was and know how absolutely thrilled we are with the incredible support we have received.

We will, at some point, celebrate this wonderful union with everyone.

Whether we have a big anniversary party or simply fly around the world until we have partied with each and every one of you, danced the night away and bought you appetizers and cocktails for an evening, we will celebrate with our loved ones.

But for now, we are going to put everything we have into our life Together:

Our marriage and our family, our house and this Next Chapter.

A PSA on Periods. Oh yes it is.

For those of you who thought this little blog was simply a forum for me to gush about my super wonderful, handsome, funny, thoughtful and mathy (Mathy--He is far better at math than I, thus making him "Mathy." This is a valid description because I came up with it and I am the "Wordy" one) hubby-to-be, reading this little gem will dispel that theory within the next couple of sentences.
Today, I am writing about a subject so far from romance (in fact, its very arrival has thwarted many a romantic evening/morning/nooner)... And so outside the scope of acceptable conversation topics, we use euphemisms to talk about it: Aunt Flo, Surfing the Crimson Wave, O.T.R. (remember that one??), Taking your monthly ride on the Bi-Polar Express... actually I just came up with that. You can use it.)
Fellas, you may want to print this out and put it somewhere special so that you can remind yourselves what happens 12 times a year to the women you love most of the month.
Here is the answer to the question you have tried to spit out for years but then stopped in favor of just pouring two glasses of wine (both for your lady) and rubbing her feet (Bravo, by the way, if I am speaking to you here. Seriously. Don't stop doing that. For those of you who have not been "this guy," Stop Sucking.)
"What is it like to have a period?"
Well, I am glad you asked. And you know what? I'm glad you're still reading. Because this is important. And I'll be honest, I giggled my way through four years of School Nurse/Health Class VHS tutorials whose genres ranged from musicals to horror flicks because I could never get past the footage of those granny panties with the seven-inch pad stuck to them.
But now, I am the educator.
So, I suggest you Super Absorb this information:
The days leading up to one's period, the PMS week, if you will, is not something to be covered in this short little lesson. No, these days are their own beasts and no two are ever alike.
There are only two common threads I have found in all my years of PMSing:
My breasts are huge and amazing. They really are.
The other would have to be the insane cravings. These are not a myth.
I'm sorry, but a man will never know how delicious Cool Ranch Doritos are a couple days before your period. Chocolate tastes better, hell meat tastes better. I've always thought I retained water the days before my period, but I am pretty sure, I actually retain food. High-calorie, forbidden, salty food.
And I do not give a shit.
That is all I will say about PMSing.

If one woman says to another "What's up? You look kind of like shit." And the other woman says, "I'm on Day 1," the first woman knows.
Day 1 of your period is the worst.
Men, imagine it's Friday at 4:30. You have had a hell of a week at work, you have been up in the middle of every night this week with the kids' nightmares and pee sheets and not gone back to sleep and you have just picked the little turds up from school. They are fighting in the back seat, you're sitting in traffic and it's snowing out. Hard. Your windshield wipers are doing nothing but smear gravely snow across your windshield because your driver's side wiper needs to be replaced and you just haven't gotten around to it. The ass hat three cars in front of you must not have noticed the green "you can take a left now" arrow, because he waited four fucking minutes to do so and thus, you are stuck in the turning lane for another light, which means a few more precious minutes stand between you getting home and washing three ibuprofens down with a cold beer. The light at the end of your tunnel is that they are four and a half hours from bedtime and their mom, who has been gone for the past week, will be back next Thursday.
You're just ... uncomfortable.
You are fatigued & exhausted.
You're agitated, irritated, pissy and even though the last time you shed a tear was when your high school prom date made you go see "Titanic," (the theater was dark, but we know you wept silently) you are pretty sure you are moments away from a melt-down that, for some reason, you know in your heart of hearts is just going to happen.
Oh, and also, that dull lower backache you have had for the last three days has escalated to what can only be described as your bottom three vertebrae being fused together with shards of scrap metal and glass. Luckily, your intense stomach pains can distract you from this and you don't even feel self-conscious about the fact that you unbuttoned your pants after lunch and have been walking around that way for the entire afternoon.
True story.
I am not even being dramatic.
I will cry during commercials--and not just the Sarah Mclauchlin "Please stop abusing animals" commercials or those old iPhone Facetime commercials, but macaroni and cheese commercials... and commercials about whole-grain cereals coming from hard-working farmers.
I have sobbed my way through songs, People magazine articles and episodes of Scrubs.
It doesn't make sense.
I'll be honest: We hate feeling this way, guys.
Especially in front of you.
We know the cliched "Don't touch me, please hold me" paradox you are exposed to can be a bit ... much.
We really try not to be a bitch.
We try not to burst into tears.
And we even stop ourselves when we want to ask you for the third time if we look fat (sometimes we succeed, sometimes... not so much).

This is a frustrating time for us and no matter how supportive and wonderful you are, you will never understand. And that's fine.
This is all we ask: Just LOVE us. Don't smother us, don't look at us with those pity eyes and say "Not feelin so hot, huh?"
Just do this: Pour us a glass of wine, give us a kiss, take the kids out of the range of fire and maybe rub our feet (do NOT touch our stomachs. You have been warned.) Tell us we're beautiful (do not add "no matter what," by the way. You will not limp away from that).
Tell us we're amazing.
Make us feel like we're not falling apart.
Do not mock the situation--we will pick a fight and win. Even if we have to win by bursting into tears. And you will feel like an asshole. A confused, "what the hell just happened?" Asshole.
So not worth it.

Know that your loving lady will be back soon. In the meantime, baby us a little. Be that super sweet guy we gush to our girlfriends about. You will never, ever get more "points" than the points you get when you go above and beyond for your girl when she has her period.
Cue "The more You Knooooow" music.
Now, get up and get a cork screw.

The "How We Met" Story

I don't really know where this story should start!
Perhaps it should begin on July 19th, 2010....
Just to bring you up to speed, I had been separated from my husband for a few months and was up in MN for a visit. Our parents knew about the separation but we were hoping to keep our business down in Arizona until we knew what we were going to do: Try once again to make it work, or walk away.
It was not unusual for the kids and I to spend a couple weeks at a time in Minnesota. At this point I had been working for a health club from home since February.
All I needed was my laptop and wireless.
I spent a week or so up with my family and then headed down to the Minneapolis area so The Blondes could spend a few days with their Dad's family, they could throw a birthday party for them at the end of the week, and I could work out of the corporate office.
We got in on a Sunday night and we were going to stay with my mother-in-law (who has loved us wonderfully and unconditionally since Day 1, I must add). That night, I learned that essentially everybody in the extended family was well-aware of our split.
This devastated me.
It was one thing for me to put on a front and act like life on the other side of the country was perfect--I was incredibly good at that! I had no trouble stepping outside myself and playing the part of a happy wife in a committed marriage. But to see friends and relatives throughout the week and finally culminate our visit with a birthday party with everyone? With my newly shattered facade?!?
Seriously--I'm not exactly sure what a panic attack is, but I believe I may have experienced one.
Discretely, of course.
The next Monday morning was July 19th.
I left the Blondes with Grandma and went to a Caribou down the street. My plan was to work there for the day, mooch their wireless and alternate between a latte buzz and that sluggish feeling one has after consuming her 2nd muffin.
Oh--And I was also going to feel sorry for myself. All I wanted to do was pack up The Blondes and just run away.
At one point, I got up to use the restroom.
On my walk back, I noticed there was a guy at the table kind of kitty-corner and behind where I had been sitting. He must have gotten there while I was up.
Was that one of the guys from the training class I had been to in February when I started this job?
There had been about 10 of us and I was the only one from the group working from Arizona.
What... was ...his .... name??
Now, I assure you, I wasn't trying to hit on him or anything. I'm from a small town. When you're from a small town, it thrills you when you run into someone you know when you're anywhere but within the city limits of said small town.
I felt I should say "Hi."
Because that's what small town people do.
I didn't want to just start up a conversation with a guy who I may or may not have met five months ago ... who may or may not be named... what was it? Joe? Yeah. Pretty sure, Joe.
SO, I searched our company's database and sure enough! There's a "Joe" listed as a Web Specialist.
I sent him a very generic email because if it's not him, he will just chalk it up to that weirdo in AZ sending out random messages again. (I do this kind of a lot.)
So I simply wrote, "I just love Caribou Coffee, don't you??"
How brilliant am I?!
Because of course, Everybody DOES! And if he isn't the guy 19 inches away from my right elbow, no worries!
I'm like Nancy Drew without the sensible pleated pants.
I hit Send.
Almost instantly I heard his Outlook email "Bing"
I watched him out of the corner of my eye.
He glanced at the bottom of his screen--you know, where the messages pop up--and kind of squinted.
Kind of cocked his head to the side.
Then he looked up.
Our eyes met.
I went into "Small town girl runs into someone she knows at a coffee shop" mode and spastically waved.
"Hi!"I said.
"Hi," He said. "Aren't you the one from Arizona?"
"I am! I'm just here visiting family and needed some wireless." (I also needed, it would appear, that extra shot of espresso and a little table fort made out of muffin wrappers.)
He brought his laptop over to my table and we worked together.
It was like playing Battleship, only nerdier.
He asked how our trip had been, how long we were in town... all kinds of pleasantries, really.
Then he said, "Wow--that's really great! I'm sure your husband misses you and the kids."
Pause.
Pause.
While I can't recreate my soliloquy quite as elegantly as I rattled it off in that crowded Caribou, and I certainly cannot recapture my shrill, cracking voice, my response was something like this, "You know what, Joe?? I don't think he does. We have actually been separated now for a few months. In fact, he was supposed to come to town this week because his family is throwing a birthday party for our kids and he was going to be here for it and guess what--he's not coming. Oh--and not only is he not coming, but *I* am going to be there. Annnnnd all of them know about the separation so all I can think about is at the end of the week, I am going to have to face these people, who all know I am a failure at marriage and really, you know, LIFE... and I am going to have to either pretend everything is fine--which won't work, because They KNOW, Joe, OR I am going to spend the day answering questions and dodging bullets. Either way, I will be drinking a LOT of wine."
I'm sure there was more, but this isn't really the best part of the story.
Plus, you know how reserved I am.
My dad put it well when he said I "Airplaned" him. This means I sat down, unloaded all my problems on the complete stranger who was lucky enough to be sitting next to me and who I probably won't see again. Then, I planned to go on my merry way, feeling better at having gotten a year's worth of awkwardly personal issues off my chest.
Yep. I airplaned him.

"Wow," he said. "That's really tough."
"Yeah," I fired back, "It really is. It freaking sucks."
Pause.
"I'm having a rough day, too," he finally says, not really making eye contact.
"Really Joe? Well, by all means--let's talk about this. What's going on in your world?"
Again he sighs, "Today would have been my wife Jodi's 39th birthday."
I know for you reading this, you just kind of froze.
It hits you, doesn't it.
Me, too.
I remembered he had lost his wife very suddenly right around Christmas the year before. I remembered he had two little boys.
I stopped my pity party.
There was pain in his eyes and I could tell just saying that out loud to me was a bit startling for him.
We stumbled through my "Oh my gosh, I am so incredibly sorry's" and his "Thank you, the boys and I are starting to do a little better each day's."
Our conversation evolved and we talked about Jodi, this amazing woman, wife, mother and 8th grade English teacher.
We talked about her generous spirit and her solid beliefs that ranged from Everybody deserves to be treated equal to Dessert is a non-negotiable and somewhat large part of every dinner.
We talked and laughed and told stories that day.
He told me he and the boys were going to go clean up a park that afternoon in Jodi's honor.
I thought that was a great and noble idea.
I also suggested they celebrate.
Get a cake, light some candles, make wishes and blow them out.
After we went our separate ways that day, we thanked each other for listening and for the talk.
Later that night, he texted me a picture of he and his boys, out on the pontoon boat, with a giant birthday cake in front of them.
He said something changed that day.
That somehow his life got brighter.
Things changed for me as well. After months of anxiety leading up to the separation and then the emotional crap house that was the separation, I felt... calm.
I had gained perspective.
I had two beautiful, healthy children. After I finally let everyone in my family and close group of friends know about my failed marriage, I had more support than I could have imagined.
We both grew stronger.
After I got back to Arizona, we would Skype and talk for hours. We got each other through all those shitty, solo "firsts." We decorated our houses for Christmas "together" from 1652 miles away. He saw my lows and was a big part of my highs.
We went through a lot together.
And fell in love.
And prayed.
And wished on stars.
And a couple years later, he asked me to marry him in the same place we met.
And I don't think for a second it's a coincidence we met on Jodi's birthday. She was watching over him and taking care of him and we think she spotted the hot mess just kitty-corner from him and thought, "Aaaah. Now that could work."
And she's right.
  

The Day of Beth!

I am the luckiest lady in the entire world.
I know this is a bold statement. But you know what? I am feeling rather bold. And fantastic!
I woke up on Saturday morning at my boyfriend Joe's house. We had big plans to lay around in our jammies with all of the kiddos and just do Nothing for an entire weekend.
And I was jazzed about it--we had been running around and busy for weeks!
I had just finished verbalizing this and making plans for my first nap when Joey handed me an envelope.
In the bottom corner, there was simply "#1"
What the....?
I opened it and splashed across the top it said "The Day of Beth! 1/21/12"
Well, this looked official and I was wondering if he had confused this with Beth Day on February 9th.
The message read "You can ask no questions, go take a shower, don't dilly dally, you must leave in one hour."
Well, what the deuce??
OK!
So, I finished my shower and was getting myself ready when he came in with another envelope. #2.
The note read: "You'll spend part of your day with your Breast girlfriend Kate. You'll need to be back here by 2:00, so please don't be late."
I looked up and said, "Kate?? Where is she?"
He threw open the door and There. She. Was! Oh myyyyyyy--This was Planned (And, as Kate later told me, he had been planning the Day of Beth for over a month!)
We got in Kate's car and opened Envelope #3. It had money in it and the note said "You are going to Key's cafe, for breakfast and laughter Don't be there too long, you have some work to do after."
So, we had a delightful breakfast that involved both bacon and a heavy mushroom cream sauce for me.
I know.
I'm delicate.
After that, we got back in the car and opened Envelope #4. The note read: "Here you'll go shopping for clothes just for you. Don't screw around, you need to be back here by two." (notice he is trying quite hard to get Kate and I to stick to this schedule. Clearly he has worked with us before!)
We decided to go to Rosedale and, once we were inside, I was able to open Envelope #5. This one contained some serious cash-o-la and a note that said "Buy clothes for tonight--something to wear. Buy a skirt or a dress or even shoes if you dare!" (Isn't he rhyme-y and fantastic??)
This was a perfect mission for my Breast Friend and me!
It doesn't matter that I have no idea WHAT I'm buying clothes for! We get to buy clothes for me!
And they're not for work! AND without any children!
It was down to the last second, but we left at 1:40 and I had a fantastic dress from Bebe, heels, tights, a necklace and earrings. Yes. We are that good.
Upon our return to the car, I opened my next envelope. The note said "You're headed back North, you'll be closer to me, for a mani and pedi and guess what, it's all FREE!"
So we headed north! A few minutes later, I opened the next one. "You're headed to Simonson's, it's in a strip mall, Just you and your friend Kate, I'm sure you'll have a ball!"
I'm sure we will, too!
Oh! And once we got there, the tech handed me a note (I'm used to these by now) ;) This one was from Tahila (T.T.!) She had been there at the same time Joey had paid for our services and just said Hi--I LOVE any sort of "Small World" happenings. ;)
After getting our nails all beautied up, It was time for me to open my next envelope. Envelope #8. The note said, "Your nails are all painted pink, red, maybe blue. I think you and Kate should go get Caribou."
So, Kate and I walked next door to Caribou--IN our lovely pedi flip-flops, mind you. We braved the slush to avoid smudges.
Once we ordered, I pointed out the table area where Joe and I had "first" met and connected.
As we were talking about it... In walked Joe. :) All cool and handsome.
The three of us sat and talked on a couch and then Kate had to go.
I asked Joe what the plan was for tonight... Why a dress? What's going on? Oh my gosh! Where are the kids?!
He assured me we had big plans for the evening, the kids were with his parents and he handed me my 9th envelope.
The same official "Day of Beth 1/21/12" stationary now had one sentence on it. It was the email I had sent him 18 months ago when we first ran into each other--On Jodi's birthday. It simply said "I love Caribou Coffee... don't you?" (For those who haven't heard the 'how we met' story--it's quite wonderful. I'm sure I'll blog about it at some point!)
I read it out loud and said, "Wow, Baby! Can you believe it all started here...." as I was gushing, he was getting down on one knee! <3
(I stopped rambling and let him talk)
He said some wonderfully sweet things and then asked me to make him the happiest man in the world and marry him.
Of COURSE!
We hugged and kissed and (I) cried.... there was a group of people in there who were very excited to be witnessing this.... It was perfect.
He knew that with the Day of Beth all set up, I just might get the feeling that he was going to propose somewhere that night, when we were all fancied up.
But for him to surprise me at the place we first met--Absolutely Awesome!
We spent the night in Minneapolis in a fancy room--I never did get around to getting dolled up in my dress, but we walked down to Seven late Saturday night for some sushi and cocktails (it made much more sense to walk over in my jeans and cute boots than my dress and dainty heels--oh Mom will be so proud of my Sensible Shoe decision!).
SO, we are engaged! The kids are all thrilled, our families are excited and supportive and we just feel so lifted up and blessed.
To reiterate what I said in my opening sentences (about 13 pages ago) I AM the luckiest lady in the world. And I can't wait to marry Joe!