What a Difference The Years Make

"Can I come in?" my colleague Carol said, gently tapping on my cracked office door. "Of course," I replied, a firm believer that any interruption from Carol was worth stopping for. Thinking it was a work thing she needed some advice on, I turned my body away from the computer to give her my full attention, only to find her eyes filled with warm, thoughtful tears. "What's going on?" I said, concerned. "You'll never believe it, but my sister received the most amazing letter..." began Carol.

And so began the story of Carol and her family making the kind of impact on an man's life that many of us only wish for (or see Brangelina do on TV). Though it can never be retold with he softness and raw emotion that Carol so artistically shared, I can summarize it by saying that with just two dollars a month for somewhere around a decade, Carol and her family nearly single-handedly aided in the success of this young man. Read his letter below:

Hi Madam Cecilia Bachman,

I am happy to be communicating to you after all this period. Yesterday, I forgot to give all the necessary details about myself under the heavy ambitions to communicate to you and repeating to make sure that you at least get message from me. I am now 34 years of age and I married to a Lovely wife by the name Midina and hopefully I will send you the recent photograph of my family and same for your concerned sisters who happen to have contributed to my sponsorship. God bless you all.

I visited U.S.A (New york) twice being Oct 2007 and Feb 08 and not accompanied by spouse because I came for UN Security which was not very successful however I passed written exams, I was cleared for DPKO(department of peacekeeping operation) based on my previous experience since I happen to have served in UN Peace keeping Mission in Siera Leone) from 2000 to 2001. I have currently decided to give a chance to B.A Degree at Egerton University(Nairobi branch) after which I may seek for Job opportunities with UN. Wish the best of Luck to Genevieve, who is pursuing a similar course to me since I have also done Juvenile criminology as unit in my course.

As I have earlier mentioned, I traveled to Siera Leone for UN Peace Keeping missionwhen it was completely a war torn region under the rebel leader of Fode Sanko. I also visited Ethiopia which is our neighbor country. The rest I passed while on transit to USA including Uganda, Neitherland, Paris and Turkey. While in New york I visited Philadelphia to meet a friend from kenya who came for a seminar. I will now keep in touch. Pass my regards to family and your sisters.

Thanks and may God bless you.
Bonaya

Carol went on to tell me that late one night many years ago, her family was drawn in by the infomercial of the man featured with a darling African child, his eyes sadder than any artist could even draw due to the horror this child had been living through. With aching hearts, they called in to sponsor a child, only to receive his picture and several letters over the years. Bonaya, almost too young to communicate and still working toward learning English, was not in touch often from his war-torn country, and Carol's family began to wonder if their combined $10 a month was really going toward his care. After all, this is a child they had grown to love, sent food and clothing and even slipped in notes of sentiment so that he may find some comfort in his dreary days. Though small memories of this family tradition had begun to slip from her mind over the years, the wonder of Bonaya and what had become of his future always lay dear in Carol's heart.

And so here they are, lives now filled with grandchildren, a U.S. economy feeling like it's suffering, grown children, and more that make up the gifts of life, when this letter arrives (via Facebook none-the-less ..yay social media!) that Carol and her family are reminded of what a difference just one person can make. These are the things that miracles are made of - may you find ways in which you give that fills your heart with joy and gives peace, contentment and betterment to this world.

Little Seeds of Joy (aka 1-800-Flowers)

Attention men: for we women, it really IS about the little things...or maybe the bright, smelly, gorgeous wild things. Today I was reminded of this as a bunch of beautiful flowers packed with star gazers, lillies, greens and things I cannot even name were delivered to the office to this grinning girl...

Do you see that face??? Now, take that times 10 because that that's exactly what it was...10 minutes of 10 women oohhing and ahhing over what had now become the benchmark of romance for every girl that had been married too long, didn't have a man or even one guy who wondered what the fuss was all about. With the click of a button or the fingertap of a quick phone call, this new beau had played his cards right for all the girls on the second floor who quickly returned to their offices to give their significant others the "hint." He's already ahead in our book. So here's to you, new beau, for making our girl smile in the way she truly deserves for the wonderful, fabulous, phenomenal woman she is. May you continue to bring her seeds of joy!

And don't forget, these types of little gestures can come in even smaller packages. Check out this little dazzler my dear friend Erica sent me to brighten my week...a flower fit just for a finger of a girl feeling a bit too preggo to be cute in anything but a chunky, sparkle-laden, desired flower ring. Love!!!

Snakes and Snails and Puppy Dog Tales...

That’s what our little BOY will be made of! Mike and I are thrilled to announce we will welcome a son into this crazy, dream-filled world around September 25. The marking of “gender day” as we so fondly called it months in advance kicked off what turned out to be one of the most incredible 9 days of our lives. The summary goes a little something like this:

May 10
As midnight neared, we drew the shades close to inspire a little shut-eye, both harboring doubts that much sleep would be captured among the electricity built by excitement of what the morning was to bring. As Mike dozed off, I stared into the darkness, dreaming of blue quilts vs. pink blankets and practiced my reaction to the news of a baby boy or girl. As I pondered what my gut reaction would be, I could not differentiate the butterflies – regardless, I was going to be excited for whatever lay ahead for us. As the drone of our clocks ticked on, the red digits faded into the night and I dreamed of all things baby in anticipation of our 8:15 (thank God) appointment.

May 11 – Gender Reveal!
Waking as if I had already consumed six cups of coffee (or what I imagine – I don’t even drink the stuff), I jolted out of bed with the ferocity of lioness on the prowl. Even Mike, the man of 5 a.m. wasn’t yet quite coherent, though when he realized the enormity of what the next hours held he came to in a hurry. After a quick shower and a carefully planned outfit (avoid dresses on sonogram days), we shared a hushed breakfast filled with secret glances, warm smirks and soft touches meant to signify “this is it!” After a quick stop to grab a Coke (prep to make sure the baby was going to reveal itself during the scan) we were on our way, our plan for the day carefully tucked in the backs of our minds. Arriving nearly 40 minutes early, we stared into the darkness of the office, knowing the answer to what we had been yearning for was literally behind the closed doors. Pacing and trying to look nonchalant, we took a brief tour of the hospital’s jagged hallways, running into smiling faces and those that looked anxious about their schedule procedures.

Finally, the lights came on, flooding the naked walls and highlighting the painful furniture that seems to be a part of almost any medical waiting room. Rushing in, we placed our names and were greeted within five minutes, our manila envelope with one blue, one pink pacifier tucked securely under my arm.

“Megan? Come on back…” the unfamiliar nurse said – three of the sweetest words an expectant mother can hear.

Mike pranced behind me in excitement, both of us exchanging glances that made it evident we could barely contain ourselves. Practically ignoring the important, clinical questions the nurse was asking, we pushed ahead to explain what we hoped they’d participate in as part of our gender reveal. “If you wouldn’t mind – we’d like the doctor to not share what the gender is during the scan, then place the blue or pink pacifier into this envelope so we may open it in private later today,” I said. Smiling quizzically, she said that yes, she’d explain it and disappeared out of the room. Claiming that we were complicated, the doc arrived in a hurry, shared an introduction and began immediately on the sonogram. As Mike’s eyes filled with tears, I went on to ask ridiculous questions, asking if that was an arm or an eye, etc. After sharing some eye-to-eye contact with the little one and watching its heart beat at just the right pace, we stepped into the hall waiting for the glorious envelope hand-off as if it were the Olympic torch.




Anxiously driving to our next location, we pretended to eat our breakfast slowly, having left the manila envelope in the car to avoid any strike at temptation. Halfway through waffles, we modified the plan to include moving immediately to Loose Park, where the unveiling of the gender would occur. Driving 10 miles over the speed limit, we parked among the quiet of the morning, knowing this was perfect as most were at work and not relishing in this special day. With the sun shining bright, we carefully scanned the horizon to find the perfect tree, where we could capture the moment of truth and begin making excited phone calls to all we loved.

It’s branches sprite and blooming, we laid out the trusty trunk blanket and plopped ourselves down in the damp grass. Mike, still standing, grasped the envelope and with a twinkle of an evil eye said, “Ready???”

And suddenly, there we were, swapping hugs, kisses and tears as we gasped at the blue pacifier that had emerged from the confines of the envelope. Our hearts had not changed – we were thrilled with all that was to come and the enormity of what raising a son would mean for both of us. Sharing tales of sports that could be played, Jayhawk gear that could be worn, and shades of blue meant for the nursery, we hastily grabbed our cells and let the good news spread: it’s a boy!

One of Those Days

Ok, so normally my goal would be to reserve this blog for life's warm fuzzies such as Baby Choate and our random family happenings, but today it's going to serve as a pregnant woman's vent session. And before you judge, yes, I am extremely grateful for the incredible life I have and remember it everyday...just not right at this moment on this day:

12:30 a.m. - Awake; I blame the hormones
1:32 a.m. - Awake again
3:13 a.m. - You guessed it...awake
4:42 a.m. - You get the point
5:16 a.m. - Give up and actually wake
5:30 a.m. - Begin cleanning for the contractor (yippe! it's tiling day!)
6:40 a.m. - Try for breakfast and nausea sets in; hit DVR and none of my shoes recorded; see Ellie has consumed my fluffy pink slipper
7:15 a.m. - Start working; begin getting worked up from crazy, hormonal emails
7:30 a.m. - Two work "fires" pop up and I almost combust (note: this is not my normal reaction - I blame Little Choate; Ellie goes to daycare with the "good" collar on, which she will promptly ruin with fun swimming activities
9:00 a.m. - work, work, work and begin noting contractor has not yet arrived
10:00 a.m. - try for snack and still nauseous; have to resort to the Zofran
10:30 a.m. - leave message for contractor; more work drama
11:30 a.m. - try to wrestle up some food in kitchen; resort to Healthy Choice meal that won't even unfreeze with all the microwave power in the world
Noon: leave more scathing message on contractor's voicemail (no more chirpy voice)
1:40 p.m. - hop in car to go to Sonic to relieve stress (don't judge); have only 4 miles of gas left and decide yes, I can make it
1:41 p.m. - large spider on rearview mirror almost sends me catapulting into the police car next to me (by the way I had just avoided a complete stop at a red light)
1:42 p.m. - use cute pink wallet to try and smash spider and I'm on the cell phone
1:45 p.m. - arrive at gas station and realize my debit card is missing; given we did Dave Ramsey and don't even own a credit card...getting home could be a problem as pregnancy does not lend itself to flirting with creepy people for free gas
1:48 p.m. - scream into the sky and head to Sonic anyway; have to have cheddar bites so dig frantically through the car looking for loose change, carefully avoiding the rebirth of the missing large spider
1:49 p.m. - call Mike to tell him my sorry behind left the debit card at happy hour last night...on an outdoor table...with minimal waiter assistance...
1:52 p.m. - call Verizon 411 and get charged for it, but bright light! my card is safe at the restaurant and Mom is kind enough to fetch for me (xoxo)
1:53 p.m. - gas hits zero...pass the same cop and think to myself that surely he would help a pregnant woman in times of crisis...
1:57 p.m. - crazy enough, make it home...got the wrong order at Sonic
2:00 p.m. - decide to take raging thoughts out on contractor's voicemail
2:01 p.m. - contractor answers and says "he must have forgotten to check his calendar that morning." really??? REALLY????? and you run a legitimate business, really???
2:02 p.m. - carefully share that I work and can't just be home and that I expect he arrive Friday and compensate for part of my day's pay as well as the daycare costs of sending Ellie
2:03 p.m. - (both sit in awkard silence)
2:05 p.m. - call to consult with girlfriend with new baby, who assures me that insanity and thinking others are just stupid is a normal part of pregnancy and that yes, someday it will go away.

At least there's that.

It's now only 2:38 p.m....who knows what the evening will bring? Cheers to a brighter night ahead! Oh, and if you see a big, black hairy spider...kill it.

The Pitter Patter of Little Feet!

Perched at my desk last Thursday, one leg tucked under the other (not a great preggo position by the way), I had the strangest sensation bubble up in my tummy. Ignoring it as a potential culprit to one of "life's little pains in the side," I went about the daily grind of putting out fires and responding to emails. Minutes later it reappeared, like the faintest of taps on my insides - almost if someone was gently running their fingers along your arm...the kind that evoke goosebumps and raise smiles. When it happened a third time, I grew excited and visited my favorite baby sites and sent Laney a text, only to have her excitedly spend the next ten minutes reviewing with me that yes, indeed, that was Baby Choate alerting me its alive and well and is a miracle to be!

With flushed cheeks and the widest of smiles, I called Mike to let him know our little angel was sending its message that its here and means business and is about to change our lives forever. Though I could hear him beaming through the phone, I know he longs for the week those punts get a little stronger so he too can share in the joy.

For now, it's our little secret. And a good one at that! Juicy, miraculous, incredible, amazing and for me, the hottest gossip around.

Now, on to researching coping methods for the times when the little guy/girl isn't swimming about and that irrational mommy fear settles in...

Heartbreak...House?

True it's the crooning of Elvis's voice you generally think of when "Heartbreak Hotel" hits the radio waves, but for us this week, it was the departure of the Vomhof neighbors that got our souls sinking into a mishmash of emotions. Still in denial, we watched the UHaul makes its way up to their freshly wreathed door, like a one-eyed monster that was about to steal all their stuff and whisk them away to Prairie Village, the place where now 98 percent of all of our friends who are family live.

As the brown-colored boxes were whisked in one-by-one, I felt like doing a Grinch move and putting a stop to all the madness. All the Whos in Who-ville looked thrilled about their new adventure ahead - heck, Mike was even helping with the big stuff! But alas, I sat perched with a shrinking heart thinking of all the things I would selfishly miss: seeing Leah taking care of herself by running rain or shine, the bounce of the basketball while Arlan played with the kids, Sydney trotting down the street in a tutu on a cell phone and the boys rigging skateboard ramps on the drive. Then there are those moments one never forgets, like running the first ultrasound over for a set of best friends to share, swapping syrup and eggs when life made it too hard to get to the store and spending the evening talking at the kitchen table as the snow fell silently around you. It's the guys nights filled with beers, the casual drive-bys for no reason at all and the familiarity and love of two people you care immeasurably for, living right next door. There is nothing quite like it.

As the tears roll down my face just blogging about this, I have to wonder: is it because it is our ultimate dream to move back to PV that drives the sadness or is it the regret of moving into this home that's never yet felt like a home? Is it fear of friendships losing intimacy with just a few more miles of distance? And then I know...

It's that the Vomhofs are just so freakin' cool - and we love them with whole hearts. We are amazed to watch their dreams unfold and know they deserve nothing but the best of memories that are still to come. And with each of these memories we will still stand strong, in love, friendship and support as the years tick by. Congratulations on the amazing house, friends - we can't wait to watch you make it a home!

How to Assess if You Watch Too Much CSI...

Enjoying one of spring's most beautiful days, Mike and I strolled the Plaza letting the sun hit our souls and daydreaming about all that is to come with baby-to-be. As we rounded the corner near Anthropologie, we are hit with the whirring sounds of helicopter wings above and are startled by its closeness as it hovers near the beautiful store front. Instantly, we both get in "CSI mode" and begin contemplating all the gruesome discoveries we could so gleefully find on the next block. Mumbling about purple fibers and trying to interpret the body language of those surrounding us, we go into full Horatio stance:

Megan: (dips her sunglasses for effect)
Mike: (stares at me out of his peripheral vision - assessing if this is a case we should follow)
Megan: (senses the go aheadedness of the stare and says - "we should follow it right?"
Mike: "You want to?"
Megan: "Duh!"
Both: (walk shockingly fast - particularly for a pregnant woman, who is also clutching her belly for the covert op)
Megan: (passes a set of cops who are feverishly chatting - catches the phrase 690...)
Megan: (in a hissing whisper to Mike) - "690!!!! What do you think that means?!"
Mike: "I don't know - probably something cool like a stabbing or robbery!"
Both: (now almost jogging at this point, rounding corner near dog bakery)
Both: (clutch each other and stare into the distance, assessing any crowds and of course trying to spot the assailant)
Both: (now looking odd and just out of place among the quiet shoppers at this point)
Both: (share an inquisitive stare)
Both: (notice the police are giggling - noting they are saying things like )- "they called a 690 for that?!"
Megan: "Mission denied for now. But we'll watch the news later."
Mike: "Bummer dude."
Megan: (situates sunglasses again...for effect)

Meanwhile, both parties are still searching Google for what 690 means...Horatio?