So hopefully we end up doing gingerbread houses every Christmas time still- but our annual Gingerbread house making extravaganza will probably be toned down a bit because of the lack of supplies next year.
It's a bitter sweet thing because we want Jory to get a job as a principal- and if he does we won't get all the gingerbread making supplies that we get every December (and all the giftcards and treats that I may or may not regift because it's just so exciting and awesome to get stuff from Jory's students- really, it's like a pre-christmas for me.) But it will be everything that we have hoped and dreamed for if he gets this job... so I guess we can sacrifice the unlimited candy and treats this time of year.
So Jord and Ash came over and we built and decorated our guts out. Jory's so good at this it's ridiculous. I never thought I would be jealous of my husbands creativeness. But it's okay, I've come to terms with it. My peppermint house turned out alright.
After another negative pregnancy test I felt like all my desire for life was slowly ripped away from me. It feels like I have to re live our loss all over again.
It's interesting how it plays with your emotions, and sucks the life out of you for just a short bit. It clouds your thoughts and nothing seems clear- all your focus is on what might have been, and it's really, really hard. But time heals. Even hours heal. So that's good. It puts things into perspective and you realize, that you're okay, your life is good. Now I'm sitting here with Jory enjoying a tuna sandwich and drinking a diet coke. Thinking about tanning and getting into a hot tub. Things I was positive that I would have to be missing out on for the next 9 months. Turns out I can enjoy them for another month. : )
When I got to work this morning my eyes were swollen and I was tired and urning for new chapter in my life, a new leaf. I checked my fax folder, and I had a excerpt from a book, from a friend who thought of me and thought I should read it. What would we do with out friends? It made me want to listen to every thought that inspires me to do something for someone else. Because you don't know what you doing for them, and why in that moment you should act- it's probably because it's when they needed it the most.
An excerpt from Shauna Niequist's new book, Bittersweet: Thoughts on Change, Grace, and Learning the Hard Way.
Today all I can think about is what might have been. It’s a Saturday,
bitter cold and bright, harsh, splintering. We’re doing normal Saturday
things, and since we recently moved into our new house, “normal”
includes unpacking the remaining boxes, assembling furniture, making
endless Target and Ikea lists. Today is the day that would have been my due date, had my pregnancy
been a healthy one. Nine months ago, the world was so different. I was
so different. The concept of pregnancy was so different to me, so
innocent. Of course I knew women who had miscarried: my mother, my
cousin, my friends. But like anything, when it happens to you it’s like
waking up to a conversation you’ve heard before and only now grasp, and
you realize entirely anew what they were talking about, what they were
trying to find the words to describe. So that’s today, the day of what might have been. Someday we might
have another child. But we’ll never have a child born on January 31,
2009. The baby I found out about on Memorial Day weekend, the happy
secret I shared with Aaron on the phone, standing outside the Phoenix
Street Café, the baby I carried inside me to Fiji to visit Todd and Joe
on the boat — that baby will never be. And it seems worth stopping for
today, just for a moment. For me, as well, the specifics of the miscarriage changed me from one
kind of mother to another. It’s a broad sisterhood of women who don’t
have easy conceptions and pregnancies, but to be honest, I liked being
in the other group. It was so deeply moving to me that my body nurtured
and nourished Henry, delivering him safely into the world, whole and
healthy, and this miscarriage and its aftermath have forced me to ask
some questions: Did my body fail me? Did I somehow fail it? We’ve had
such a tenuous relationship in the past, my body and I; was this a
breach of trust? I went to a wedding six months after the miscarriage. The wedding
was absolutely perfect, the first of my ten small group girls to get
married, a sweet celebration on a hot Austin night. Christel was
gorgeous, all eyelashes and happy tears, and we all danced together and
took pictures and laughed. And then for a little while, Kristin, another
one of the girls from my small group, left, walked to the front of the
old house alone, stood on the sidewalk, listening to the music in the
distance, heart heavy with what might have been. Kristin does this at every wedding. She dances and laughs and hugs
and smiles for pictures, and then, at one point or another, she slips
away and lets a few tears fall for the maid of honor who will never
stand at her own wedding someday. Kristin’s sister Laurie ended her own
life four years ago. They were stepsisters and best friends. And then
when they were both twenty, Laurie chose to end her life in a
heartbreaking, confusing tangle of hurt and accusation and broken
friendships. I remember the first everything — the one-month mark, the
first birthday after she was gone, the one-year mark. Kristin, of course, remembers Laurie all the time, but the ache is
never more acute than at weddings, because when Kristin gets married,
the sister she dreamed about weddings with for years won’t stand with
her on that day. Weddings, more than anything else, bring her to what
might have been. And now Kristin and her fiancé, Sean, are getting married, and she’s
thinking about how to walk through the months of her engagement and the
day of her wedding without her sister. The ache for her sister has
deepened in the season before the wedding. Kristin decided she won’t
have a maid of honor, so that no one will stand in the place of Laurie’s
memory on the day that the two sisters had dreamed about for so long. The night Sean proposed, Kristin started to cry in between phone
calls to friends and family. Sean asked her to dance in the living room,
surrounded by the flowers and candles he’d set up for the proposal, and
as they danced, she realized the one phone call she still wanted to
make was to her sister Laurie. Kristin felt both angry and sad in that
moment, remembering Laurie’s exuberant phone call to her just a few
months before her death — “I’m engaged!” Kristin wanted so badly to make
that same call to her sister and best friend that night, and it felt
deeply unfair that Laurie wasn’t there to pick up the phone. If you’ve been marked by what might have been, you don’t forget. You
know the day, the years. You know when the baby would have been born.
You know exactly what anniversary you’d be celebrating, if the wedding
had happened. You know exactly how old she’d be right now, if she were
still alive. You’ll never forget the last time you saw your child, or
the last time cancer was a word about someone else’s life, or the day
that changed absolutely everything. It makes the calendar feel like a
minefield, like you’re constantly tiptoeing over explosions of grief
until one day you hit one, shattered by what might have been. On most days, for me, it’s all right. We’ll have another baby
someday. I hope we do. But for today, for a minute, it’s not all right. I
understand that God is sovereign, that bodies are fragile and fallible.
I understand that grief mellows over time, and that guarantees aren’t
part of human life, as much as we’d like them to be. But on this day,
looking out at the harsh white sky of a Chicago winter, I’m crying just a
little for what might have been. . . . No one might ever notice January
31, and what it means for me. But I’ll always know. I don’t know what date it is for you — what broke apart on that day,
what was lost, what memories are pinned forever to that day on that
calendar. But I hope that, like Kristin, on that day you leave the dance
floor and hold yourself open and tender to the memories for just a
moment. As one who grieves today, I grieve with you, for whatever you’ve
lost, too, for what might have been.
I had this one professor in college, I will never forget his story about his miracle. His ONE miracle. He was always so annoyed about this miracle story and repeatedly said that he wasted this miracle and wished he would have used it on something else.
But... we don't really pick our miracles, so we shouldn't be choosy. I mean, we're lucky to even have these miracles happen to us, right? Well, I've had a few "miracles" lately that make me wonder I really should have been a cat who had nine lives or something. Because I keep using up my dang miracles on bizarre things.
Well, we have turtles. I'm sure some of you know that. 3 of them to be exact and their names are Petrie, Toby and Gunther. Well, when we want to feed the turties we put them separately in tupperware containers on the table, and leave them for a few hours to make sure they get full. Sometimes we get lazy and and leave the poor souls on the table in their tupperware over night because we are too lazy to put them back into their tank. Well, it was Petries turn to get neglected and we left him on the table all night long. I of course completely forgot and went to work the next morning not even noticing our green friend on the table. OR dotdotdot NOT ON THE TABLE.
Jory was the responsible man he is and realized our babe wasn't in the tank, and was most definitely not on the table. Crap. We had a turtle on the loose and had no idea where it was!!
When I got home from work we tore the house apart looking for Petrie. Nothing. Nowhere. He couldn't of gone up the stairs so we ruled that out thank goodness. We were totally shocked and couldn't believe that we couldn't find him. I was thinking it was going to be one of those mysteries that you wouldn't find out until the after life or something.
Well, to shorten this long story. A WEEK later, Jory about fell over because our dear friend Petrie scared him by just sitting there, in the middle of the tile in the kitchen. Staring up at him... all dried out and eyes sunken in. The poor thing! So Jory grabbed him and plopped him in the tank... Well. Yep. That was our miracle. Our water turtle lived for a week out of water with no food. When, honestly, we were planning on getting rid of the little guys, but now we feel like we can't because he's, well, a miracle turtle!
I love to cook. And I love to multi task. Makes me feel like super woman and it's super good for my mind and all that. Well, I run into big problems when I cook while multitasking. Because usually water runs out of pans and pans burn and our house fills up with smoke and pans get ruined, food burns and then Jory as nice as he can tells me that I need to be more careful. and I do it again. It's a terrible scenario but it repeats itself quite often.
Well, the most recent endeavor was trying to make potpourri. Which, seriously Sarah? That's asking for a disaster. Leaving a stove on for hours with liquid that will so easily evaporate and then burn your pans! So yes, of course that happened. So Jory felt like he had to step in and tell me that I could NOT do that anymore. Which I kind of agreed. But then didn't hesitate when I thought up a yummy concoction of vanilla bean and oranges. And did it again.
And all I remember doing last... was turning the burner up. Then we went dinner. Then drove to my grandparents. Watched a football. Took a dip in the hot tub. and. 4 hours later, on our way home... I remembered.
It was the longest drive of our lives.
Jory got in his mad mood where he doesn't say ANYTHING and it just made the whole car trip worse. We drove in silence picturing our house... fire trucks surrounding, smoking billowing out of the windows and flames eating our perfect little home. We pulled up- no fire trucks. no flames. I jumped out of the car, flung the door open, no smoke. I ran to the stove... and... Sarah's done it again. I turned the wrong freaking burner on! So that I guess could have been dangerous too- but it just acted like a space heater and pumped money out of pockets while staying hot for 4 plus hours. But halleluiah I turned the wrong burner on!
So that was our second Miracle. And yes, I consider it a miracle.
I'm sick of typing, so I will make it short.
My Dr.'s office didn't pre-auth my last emergency surgery. Which means they are penalized and the pt which is ME! doesn't have to pay the beautiful remaining balance of 554.09. So, they wrote it off. And me and Jory did a happy dance.
So maybe those aren't true MIRACLES but, we're pretty glad they all happened. Or...didn't happen?
Since it's Thanksgiving time (I mean, sniff, since it's already over- I swear I have post holiday depression)... I wanted to do the traditional "what I'm thankful for" post because I wasn't really able to talk about it this year. I haven't been able to express my thankfulness for what I have and what I have been blessed with. So where better to write this than on a blog that no one reads? Ha, I'm glad I have my blog, I've been printing the years of the blog into books- so this is my version of a scrap book!
I'm grateful for Utah! Crazy- I know, and I don't want to speak to soon to jinx myself... but we love living in Utah, we're grateful for our perfect little house in Lehi and most importantly we love that our families are just a 25 minute drive either north or south... it's the greatest. Jory is now starting to apply for jobs which is so exciting and so scary at the same time because we don't know which direction our lives will go. Most likely if we get a "yay" we'll stay here (fingers crossed) but if we don't get a job with where we applied- we will apply to other places around the Country and hopefully get Jory's career started as a Principal- (or vice principal). We don't find out until March or something, so I'll keep you updated. We love it so much here and we're grateful that we've been able to live here for 3 years (in April).
I'm grateful for missionaries, like my little brother. I'm grateful for prayer. I'm grateful for airplanes. For tv's and cameras. I'm grateful for nice people and kindness. I'm grateful for creativity and for trees and colors and for music. For how perfect the gospel is. Moms and dads and brothers and how they all play that special role in your life that no one else can.
Of course... for my groom.
Sometimes I struggle getting my words out when I talk, everything get's jumbled and comes out wrong and it gets me real frustrated and it gets me into this crazy stressed mode I want to scream because I can't even SAY what I want to say- then... Jory will just look at me as calm as can be, he'll tell me simply, "just start over- it's okay, just start over." For some reason it always just makes me feel 100% better. Like it's the best idea in the world, it's okay to just start over!
And I just love that about him. I love how simple he is. His unspoken motto is- take everything slow and be happy and ... it'll probably work out just fine. No drama. Just roll with the punches, be good, be happy and we'll be okay. I'm so grateful for him!
Really? Yes. Okay... so maybe we do have a rabbitry goin on at the Schmidt residence. But they are our babies! I can't get enough of them and Jory can't say no to my sweet face... or maybe it's the bunnies, okay, it's probably the bunnies. But, he really does have a place for them in his heart... oddly enough.
Jory hates most animals, (which is almost a sin in the Sargent family- at least to his Mother in Law). but rabbits just seem to melt his little heart (maybe it's the fact they live outside and their poop is really pretty .. clean. You know what I mean.) I think he thinks it's a big bonus that I suffer from asthma and all my furry animal craving wants and needs don't really get to be fufilled unless they live outside in the lonely ole cold.
It's nice because Jory has built our buns all cages on the side of our house and they are relatively easy to take care of. When we watch a movie or something we like to bring one of them in and snuggle to spend some quality time, 'cause who doesn't want to spend quality time with rabbits?
Well since I feel like all I talk about any more is my rabbits I will end this funny little blog post with a picture of our hypnotized new Buhlie and his trick.
Ourgardenhas reached the end of it's life span. I was so excited for our watermelons, which 20 pound expectations... ended in 1-2 pounds personal sized melons. (they were good though!)
I'm healingand getting better everyday.... emotionally and physically. Especially after Conference. We're trying to be completely content with our lives right NOW. Not hoping or wishing for something different until it happens. I love my life right now, and I love my Jor. We're so happy- now if we could just slow it down a little bit- and give us more 4 days weekends, I wouldn't complain one bit.
It's almost Halloween! I get kind of sad, maybe you can call it holiday-al depression (not really) but I get sad when Holidays come and go so fast. So this Halloween season, every spare second me and Jor are trying to listen to Halloween stations on Pandora (which are really funny and really strange)... decorate.. do pumkin-ish things... Really enjoy- the seasons so I won't get so seasonally- sad. Ha.
I'm so excited about my Halloween/Fall flavored house-
We decided we needed a get-away. Just something small... So Wednesday after work we picked up a pizza and some 32 oz drinks and drove to Ogden. The Alaskan Inn!!
Your own little cabin. Unlimited movies. Custom breakfast at your front door. Hot tub (in room).
Totally what we needed!
I finally exercised. After the Inn we drove up Ogden canyon to do our first mountain bike trip since my surgeries. It was hard. and I was slow. And I'm guessing I looked pretty pathetic because a couple passerbys decided they need to give me words of encouragement while Jory waited at the top of the hill for me. But it felt good, and sadly now I don't have the excuse that I "medically" have reasons to not work out. Darn. :)
So the Scottster had another slumber party with us last night and we decided to take him to Applebees for 1/2 off appetizers and karaoke...which by the way, the appetizers weren't appetizing. I don't know why I seem to forget that every time we go.
He was planning on singing on his own if they had payphone by maroon 5 ... his favorite song of course- but... no such luck.
So, next best option?
A Whole New World with his awesome brother in law.
He ended with shouting out, "nailed it!" and then proceeded to do the worm.
I love warty, colorful, mis-shapen gourds around fall time!
Two years ago I stupidly tried to save some because they were just so darn cute. (and only like a buck each so I don't know why I tried?) - by popping them into one of my halloween/fall storage containers and forgetting about it until last year. When I opened up that storage container so excited to transition my house to pumpkinville I ended up being completely grossed out and disapointed with what I found.
Moldy covered everything. My dang gourds rotted. (of course)
So, the beauty of having an empty lot behind us- I threw all of that moldy sickness out and thought nothing of it!
Until- dot dot dot
A month or so ago we found a strange plant kabooming in the lot behind us. This monster is literally over 20 feet long.
(if you have to know- yes, my hair is not brushed. or washed. or even thought about for at least 3 days when this picture was taken)