A Wife Loved Like The Church

My husband loves Craigslist. I’ve come to see it as a conquest for him. How much can I get for how little? At first it was a mild interest (he first came across it several years back), but now that IC has their own site, our home has become a full blown Craigslist endorsement. Yesterday we filled our garage with some man’s apartment belongs, along with another person’s houseplants and patio furniture.

The extremely orderly person in me is freaking out. The idea of walking into my garage to find things randomly placed has the potential to give me a bad case of the hives. Not to mention the idea of the dirt that has been brought into the house from other people (ok, ok, I’m not that bad… but I can be). But, for Mother’s Day my mom gave me this bracelet that says ‘Live, Love, Laugh’, so I am taking that as my motto as my house becomes something of a collectors museum.

Now, in all fairness, Jonathan has really made out like a bandit. He has found some pretty sweet deals (patio furniture in perfect shape: $10; the entire contents of someones apartment: $50). Even last night Jonathan was talking to Jeff about making a job out of selling stuff on Craigslist. You just need to find items on the cheap, and resale them. It seems plausible, given the fact that we have several items now that could easily be resold for twice what we paid.

And speaking of Jeff… This is totally premature, and I must warn you all that this new endeavor is as planned out (at least in my mind) as my kid’s weddings and so I am merely talking rather than give any hard fact or truth…

It turns out my husband wants a van. Jeff has this van at Budget that Jonathan really likes. Pat had said something to him about it last week, but Jonathan never went to see it until yesterday. In my mind this is how I imagine the meeting scene between Jonathan and the van.

[Jonathan gets the keys from Jeff, thinking “Hm, could I really drive a minivan?” before opening the doors to only reveal leather seats – Jonathan’s passion – and cargo space that can substitute for his dream truck for several more years. Then as he leaves the parking lot to pick me up, he says “Now, van, how are we to convince the van hating Sarah that you are indeed the road worthy vehicle of our dreams?”]

Also, part of me thinks that there was the slow motion run towards one another…but I could be wrong.

So, anyways, Jonathan really likes this van. Last night he raddled off all the pros to us getting it while I cringed at the thought of being a soccer mom. *Disclaimer: There is nothing wrong with being or wanting to be a soccer mom, just not really what I would ever want myself to be labeled.*

Sure vans are cool. You know, the ones with shag carpet that have driven across the country carrying it’s passengers to some protest. Or even the ones that have crammed in one too many people for a glorious camping trip. But this van, this van just says “Hello yuppie world, my name is Sarah, I am white and middle class.” Now of course if we do end up getting the van I will eat my words, because that is what happens.

Example: While my mom was here last weekend, we were talking about dream cars. My two dream cars are a mini cooper and a Volvo station wagon (old school style of course). My mom mentioned something about vans and their usefulness with families. And I believe my direct quote was “Um, no. I will never get a van. Vans are for yuppies.” Mom then proceeded to inform me that Jesse and Shelly never wanted a van, but once they got theirs they loved it. However that is not convincing to me. I have tattoos and body piercings. My brother does not. Point in case. Jesse = yuppie; Sarah = far from yuppie.

So, already within a week it appears that I may just eat my words. But I have made it very clear that if the Windhams do become the proud owner of a minivan I have the right to blaster it with non-yuppie bumper stickers.

I just told my boss I’m pregnant.

Before the meeting my heart was pounding so much that it felt as though it would jump out of my chest.

But it’s done. And he said he was expecting it. I figured as much.

I did feel pretty bad when he asked me when I’d be back after the baby and I told him I wouldn’t be.

Jack is housebroken! Well, almost. He hasn’t had any accidents in several days, and the ones that he has had were our fault because we weren’t paying attention to how long he has gone between breaks. In fact, on Sunday morning, he woke me up at 6:30 by jumping up on the bed and whining. I took that as the “I need to pee” sign, grabbed him and took him outside. So, he’s gotten down the idea that if he whines he gets to go “do his business”. And that my friends is a huge step in puppy world. Needless to say, Jonathan and I are quite excited. Now, if only Baby Dubya is as easy to housebreak…

So far my morning sickness hasn’t been as bad as it could (some stories of my friends’ experiences terrify me…). I’ve had nausea, but nothing too extreme, and have only thrown up a few times. However, this morning proved to be a dosey. I woke up feeling not so good, but thought “I can push through this”. About half way through the morning my toilet and I had become very close friends. At some point I thought “Sarah, if for no reason other than this, thank you for being such a neat freak and making sure your toilet is always spotless”. After what seemed like way too long for my liking, I gathered up my battered self, emailed my boss and went back to bed. I woke up a bit more refreshed, but unfortunately, it hasn’t lasted, and now I get to sit at my desk choking down crackers praying my boss doesn’t ask too many questions before I can tell him the big news next week.

However, that story shouldn’t overshadow the real story. Our Cinco de Mayo party rocked. I maybe biased, but I had a really good time on Saturday. The weather was beautiful and there was a really good turn out of people. We had a pinata, which turned out to be more for looks and less for hitting, as it was made out of cardboard and not paper mache. But it was fun all the same, and I think people really enjoyed themselves (at least I hope… and if you didn’t please don’t let me know). I think we might just have to make it a tradition. Plus, what made it really awesome, was the fact that Jonathan made homemade tortillas. Yummy. And our neighbor brought guacamole dip, which was fabulous. Yummy again! So, mark your calendars for this time next year and come prepared for the best party of the year. 🙂

My brother, John, turns 14 today. He is the last of the clan. It seems so strange that he has reached full out teenagehood. Mostly because he is forever stuck at the age of 7 in my mind (as that was how old he was when I moved out). But alas, he is nearing the 18 mark. Which means he is closer to getting married than he is to birth.

I love my younger brothers. I don’t get to spend near the time with them that I want, but they really are great. They are humorous, smart and quick witted. I don’t feel really close to them, and that makes me sad. It, I think, in part has a lot to do with distance more than anything. It’s hard to have a close relationship with someone that you see once a year. I really want that to change this year.

My family is coming to visit next weekend, and then we have our annual visit to Tennessee in September. And I’m sure they will be back here in November/December for the baby. I like that. I like knowing that I will see my family more than a weekend a year. That I will be able to really be apart of what they are doing, and they with me. It makes me happy.

So, here’s to you John Clark (or should I call you Hunka Munka?). Happy Birthday brother. I love you.

Jack is finally crate trained! Well, for the most part at least. He’s not barking all night and will actually let us sleep for 2 hours at a time, before he needs to be let out for a potty break. This is a major improvement from last week. Plus, he starting to go into his crate for naps on his own through out the day, and that is a really good sign.

He has been perfecting what I like to call “Jack Attack” on Madeline lately. She is less than pleased. Maddy will be strolling around the house and out of no where Jack comes barrelling after her. I think he has her confused with one of his siblings. After all, she is his size and color. But to his disappointment, she doesn’t seem to want to play all that much, she just likes swatting him on the head. Which oddly enough makes he want to play with her more. Go figure.

On Sunday we announced our baby news at house church. It was kinda funny to see some people taken completely off guard, while others were like “We’ve know that for months!” It has been a wonderful (even though sick) last ten/eleven weeks. One thing that I didn’t count on though were emotions. Maybe it’s just me, or maybe it’s most pregnant women, but I am so emotional. And over things that normally wouldn’t make me cry. Here are two really funny examples:

1. On Thursday Jonathan and I watched the movie Deja Vu. The opening scene is all these navy men with their families getting on a boat. Anyways, you just know something bad is gonna happen, and I just start bawling. I told Jonathan “I can’t watch this, please can we just stop the video?” He just looked at me and was like, um, nothing’s even happened, these people are just getting on the boat. After about five minutes I was okay and watched the rest of the movie.

2. This weekend I was reading my latest Southern Living magazine, and came across this Cook for the Cure ad for breast cancer. All it was, was a pink apron that said “Who do you cook for?” and I just melted. Tears were swelling in my eyes and I was like “Oh goodness, that is the saddest thing I have ever read.” Poor Jonathan walks through the door at this point and probably thought, I’ll just come back later.

There have been plenty more, with me just seeing something and turning into a big cry baby. It’s quite interesting to say the least.

So, I am coming up on 2 1/2 years of living in Iowa. And this weekend is Cinco de Mayo. Now, I’ve never celebrated Cinco de Mayo in Iowa, because if my memory serves me right, I’ve always gone back to Texas for some reason or another during that time. Well, it looks like May 5th will be spent in Iowa, which is very, very far away from Mexico.

I’ll be honest and say that even while in Texas, I never went all out for Cinco de Mayo. I maybe just went to a good Mexican place (hmmm… Trudy’s), had some Mexican beer and listen to Tejano music. But for some reason this year I want to go all out. I’m talking pinata, sombreros, Tejano music blasting and lots of dancing. Maybe I’ll through on a poncho for some added flare. Of course, I doubt that will happen, but it would be fun. One thing is for sure, I most definitely want some Mexican food that night. Maybe Jonathan (or should I call him Juan?) will cook me up some yummy, yummy carne guisada and Spanish rice with spicy salsa and chips.

**If you’re in town and we do make some good Mexican food, make your way over to our place for sure!***

We’ve finally named the puppy. He really looks like a Jack, or as much as a dog can I suppose.

Still no name. Hopefully he’ll be called something other than “puppy” tonight.

It’s official, I survived my trip. About half way through the week I thought “Hmm, traveling with three guys is a lot harder than it seems.” Not that I didn’t love hanging out with Jonathan, Matt and Michiel, but a little more estrogen would have be nice! But even without an extra girl, the trip really was awesome. We went to a Yankees game in NY and ate a Philly cheese steak in Philadelphia (which was so yummy, but not too good for the stomach!). D.C. was just the way I remember, overwhelming. For an area that is relatively small there is so much packed into it. We went to three different musuems and saw all of the monuments we could. Matt and I visited the Holocaust Memorial Museum. Very appropriately the weather that day was very sad and dreary. This was the second time I went there, and I must say that the second time was more heavy then the first. Perhaps it’s because of all the classes I took in college, but I think I cried the whole time I was there.

It’s official, we got a puppy. We drove up to Calmar last night with Joshua Abdo and picked up our puppies. The Abdos named there little guy, Copper. Jonathan and I haven’t fully agreed on a name just yet, so I will wait to announce it later. Once we have all the pictures uploaded I will put them up. It was interested, because it was a really bitter sweet time last night. There was the part of me that was so excited to be getting a puppy and then there was the part of me that still misses Judah. Judah will never, ever be replaced, and he will go down in history as one of the single greatest dogs ever (and the best I have personally ever known). But last night, when we were visiting with all the puppies, I knew this is what he would have wanted. Sure, he would be so jealous if he were still around, but I know he would be happy to know we’re happy.

And now, the part that most every one has been holding their breath for…

It’s official, Jonathan and I are pregnant! I am about ten weeks along. We went to our doctor’s yesterday morning and everything appears to be going well, and Baby Windham seems healthy. We were able to hear Baby W’s heartbeat. That, I think, was the coolest thing I have ever experienced. There is something about the swish-swish noise that makes my heart fill with joy. God has really allowed Jonathan and I to experience some amazing mountain tops in the last month, and it continues to point to His worthiness of all the glory. I am humbled by God’s desire to bless us, and grateful for the times that He has carried me through some very low valleys so that I can more fully understand His wonder and grace.

I was born and raised in the South. I hold several love/hate feelings about my experiences there, but am slowly growing to love it more than hate it. However, part of me wonders if I haven’t just come to idealize what I want the South to be. A place where people sit on their front porches drinking iced tea, listening to good music, watching the kids play baseball all day and saying hi to everyone that passes.

But the South I really know is scarred. We have a past that has not, and I fear, will not, leave. One of prejudice. One of hate. One of division. I can remember seeing the signs of racism from an early age. Seeing “KKK” emblazened in a neighbors yard. Or having the confederate flag hanging in someone’s truck. I, in all honesty, could not tell you one person I knew who didn’t “look like me” until I was started working in high school. Granted, it’s not because I didn’t want to have a variety of friends, it’s just that where I lived and where I went to school, there was no variety.

I took a civil rights course in college that made me ashamed of what took place in my land. It made my heart break to think that my ancestors, as I’m sure they did, judged others based on the color of their skin. I came across this article today. While I want to believe that the images captured are skewed, deep down I know they aren’t. I know that Greenbrier, TN still has a divide, even if it is “invisible”.

It makes me sad. Just when I begin to think of the South as a beautiful and pure land, I am reminded of not only it’s past, but it’s present and likely future.

I love Iowa. I have been here just over two years now, and would rate Iowa City as my second favorite place I have ever lived. And for those of you who know my love of Texas, that’s saying a lot. However, there are a few things that I just can’t get adjusted to. Like, having people get upset when I say ma’am/sir. Or not understanding me when I say I want a coke (ok, ok, I’ll give that one to you Iowans, “coke” can be confusing). Or looking at me funny when I say I’m having meat and two for lunch. But what pains me the most is not having good ol’ fashioned southern food. Sure, I cried myself to sleep when I realized that Hy-vee wasn’t HEB. And then again when I realized I would have to drive for an entire day, literally, to eat at the best taco shack known to man. But about two months ago, a glimmer of silver lining came streaking into my world.

Chicken like you have never tasted is coming to Coral Ridge Mall. Chik-fil-A happens to be one of my all time favorite places to eat. I would pass up a steak dinner, homemade pie and tea just for a bite of Chick-fil-A. Yes, yes, that seems quite extreme, but oh man, is it worth every warm and buttery bite.

And the best part of all: the creater/owner is a Christian. Truett Cathy is a hardcore Baptist who believes his store exists “to glorify God by being a faithful steward of all that is entrusted to us and to have a positive influence on all who come in contact with Chick-fil-A”. Yep, that’s pretty sweet stuff right there. Also, as a means to further my love of this chicken place, they are closed on Sundays to allow their employees “an opportunity to worship, spend time with family and friends or just plain rest from the work week”.

The store opens up at the Mall on April 19th. I regret to say that Jonathan and I won’t be here for the grand opening. Although we did consider coming back two days early from our trip just to be the first in line.

Yep, I love me some chikin.