SOLD!

Our very first house went on the market before we left for Arizona and sold the following month. It closed on June 25th to a family that saw what we had seen in it and will hopefully cherish it as much.
It's kind of surreal knowing what had been yours is no longer yours. Our friends and family can't say, "There's the Sweets' house," when they drive past it. It is officially someone else's home. And that's okay :)
Before I leave, though, I just want to take a quick trip down memory lane.  Here are a few snapshots from our last few days at the house...

Welcome to Thirty

My twenties ended on May 27th of this year, and I'm still adjusting. For the most part, I'm quite comfortable being thirty...but I still cringe inwardly, ever so slightly, when I pronounce the word. And somehow, I've never been asked for my age more than in those first couple months after my birthday... I guess the Lord knew I'd need the practice!

My big 3-0 was pretty...miserable. We headed out to Phoenix for lunch at an "American restaurant," which to me implies milkshakes and various kid-friendly beverages and meals. The place we went to, however, was swanky i.e. not for a family of five with three hungry littles! So, hungry, cranky, confused and disappointed, we call around looking for a nearby American restaurant that, specifically, serves milkshakes (yes, I'm the one who voted for milkshakes)...and we were directed to a place that serves "the best milkshakes in town." And it was closed.

So we had lunch at AppleBee's.

(At this point I had a baby migraine kicking inside my head and the blinding Arizona sun wasn't helping. Now, cue the tender mercies...)

The service was fantastic, my kids got a ton of attention from a family-oriented staff, there were milkshakes and kid-friendly options galore, and we even managed to capture a piece of that whole experience...

It may not have been our first choice, or even our second, but we couldn't deny feeling the Spirit's hand on our tense shoulders or the joy that was captured in that corner booth.

Tim was pretty bummed out about our plans falling through, the fact that I had to spend the rest of the afternoon with a pillow wrapped around my head, and that he couldn't do much more that day than mow our lawn. What he was most disappointed by was the failed Plants vs. Zombies cake that he had ordered for me the week before. What should have looked something like this...

had come out looking more like this:

And yes, the decorator really did write "your name."

Apparently Tim had shown her the PvsZ images on his phone, then described and drew the layout for her, to which she replied, "Oh yeah, that's EASY!" When he went to pick up the cake on our way home from Applebee's, it took everything he had not to throw it in her face. Instead, he walked away and left it on the customer service desk.

That evening, we had KFC for dinner lol :P

It may not have been a lavish birthday celebration, and things may not have gone as planned that day...but what I didn't capture on camera and what my sweet husband may not have realized is that the weekend leading up to my birthday was the best I've ever had :) I remember standing in the kitchen with him on Saturday while our kids played outside, and feeling happy and grateful for the amazing breakfast he had made. He took care of things around the house and with the kids, thereby giving me a mini-vacation. Funny how husbands don't see those things as gifts!

I'm pleased to say...that I'd much rather be thirty than twenty, that I love myself and others more than I have at any other time, that I no longer ask myself things like, "When is my life finally going to start?" or "What is my purpose in life?" I'm happy to be an adult, even one who admits that she's thirty :)

Why Arizona?

In Washington we were often asked, “Why Arizona? Did Tim get transferred? Do either of you have family down there?” In Arizona we’ve been asked, “So what brings you down here? Have you ever been to Arizona before? Do you know about summer?” And, from the cold-weather-by-nature people, “Why would you ever leave Washington?!”

Our answer has always been, “No, Tim wasn’t transferred. He had updated his resume after Azaleos (the company he was working for) was bought out by Avanade, and then let his resume float online. He wasn’t out of the job, he just didn’t appreciate the changes wrought by Avanade. He was later contacted by a recruiter for Drivetime in Arizona, and when he was told that it was for a full-time permanent position, he set up a Skype interview…and we began praying.” I told some the story of how we had prayed before, during, and after the interviews - but never to ask that he’d land the job. We already had a home, a life, in South Everett…so we prayed for confirmation, to know what decision to make if he were to receive an offer. And after each prayer, we received the same answer: peace.

Let me clarify…

Time and again, I would find myself sitting in a corner of our house thinking how much I loved our home. It was our home, not just because we owned it but because everything about it said so much about us. We had shaped that house to be our home, and I was grateful for it. Well, I had done this very thing – sitting in a corner with warm and fuzzy feelings – just days before Tim came home from work asking me what I thought about moving to Arizona. So when it was brought up, all I could say was, “We’ll pray about it.” Now here’s what I meant about “peace”: after that very first prayer, I felt like it was okay…to leave our house, move into a rental, even a smaller home. For the first time since getting our keys, I found myself looking at our house like that was all it was – a house. I knew we’d be able to make a home for ourselves anywhere.

After receiving an answer to our prayers and Tim getting the job offer, we naturally started asking ourselves, “Why Arizona?” It seemed the Lord wanted us there for a reason.

It’s been two weeks since we’ve moved to Chandler, Arizona from Everett, Washington, and in that time we’ve realized a few answers to the above question.

1. Humility. We’re currently renting a house that’s about 500 square feet smaller than the house we had owned. We have no cable nor internet. A lot of our nice new things got scratched and dirty during the move, and some things broke. However…we have air conditioning, a pool in the backyard, a good landlord who paid to have a fence installed around the pool, more space in the backyard for the kids to play, and a library card. And none of our picture frames broke :)
2. Our family. In Everett, Tim worked from 11 to 7-ish (to avoid sitting in traffic for an hour). The kids and I woke up late, the kids went to bed late, and Tim and I went to bed even later. Since our house was a split-level, the living room was upstairs and the family room was downstairs, and although we didn’t have cable, we streamed Netflix on the PlayStation, iPad and Kindle. I had also taught Aislin how to use the computer to play preschool games online. In a nutshell, we had become very comfortable, lazy, and perhaps a little disconnected. We had given our kids enough resources to keep them occupied (mainly so they’d leave us alone), but when we wanted to spend time together as a family, say for family home evening, we were either too tired at the end of the day or it was too late once Tim had finally come home. Now Tim works from 8 to 4, we all wake up early and go to bed early too. It’s insane. We’ve never been morning people, and we’ve certainly never been early-to-bed people either…but I guess we do it naturally because of the early morning sun and heat! We also spend a lot of time together in the living room (our only living/family room on the only level of the house) watching family movies or reading to the kids, or sitting around the dining table and eating ice cream. (That particular activity we do at least twice a day!) And when the kids get restless, we don’t throw our tablets at them. We just throw them outside ;)  
3. Tim. It’s his turn to be home!

We’re grateful for this experience and have barely been able to grasp all the blessings we’ve received since moving here. Although the drive was long and we encountered a few hiccups after getting into town, and although we miss our family and friends in Washington so much, we’ve never felt like we made the wrong decision in moving here. We’re excited for whatever else Arizona has in store for us! 

Lincoln Connor

The grand event of 2012 was the birth of Sweet baby #3, Lincoln Connor, who arrived on December 28th! He was a week early, unlike his brother and sister who wanted out of the oven two weeks before their due date :P

7 lbs 5 oz, 18.25" long

9:27 p.m.

My labor story: I pushed 1 1/2 times.

(Hehe...this is a pre-labor picture, but it's so fitting, isn't it?)

The poor boy swallowed some meconium, though, so we were made aware that he'd go straight from the catcher's mitt to the clinical newborn bed (with all the lights and do-hickies) where a NICU team would be ready for him. We were told there probably wouldn't even be enough time to have Tim cut the umbilical cord because the NICU team would need to suction the meconium out ASAP before he got it in his lungs. As soon as Lincoln came out, the doctor still held him up for Tim and instructed him to quickly cut the umbilical cord. And then we waited and watched from the delivery bed as the NICU team worked.
We never doubted that they knew what they were doing, and knew from the beginning that he'd be okay, but after a couple minutes of waiting, worry had started to creep in. We watched the team rub his shoulders, nudge him and encourage him, in the kindest voices, to breathe. And we just sat there and watched, holding our own breaths, as we waited for him to sound like a regular newborn. When he started crying, I immediately went into mommy-of-a-newborn mode and freaked out about him being hungry; but when I asked if I could feed him, they said, "Breathing before eating." So, unlike our first two kiddos, this one didn't get to sit on my chest and meet me right away... He had to catch his breath first!
Our babymoon lasted approximately 48 hours--our stay at the hospital, when the nurses changed most of his diapers hehe, and our first day back home with him when the big kids were with grandma and grandpa. After that, it was like we were living in crazy town! Oh, what a difference one more child can make!
Even with Tim home the first three weeks after Linc was born--and not working from home this time, but actually home to take care of me and the kids--it was still tough. Linc screamed at me all the time during that first week and I was in a lot of pain from nursing. I remember being sleep-deprived, sore and frazzled when he was about two-days-old, making a bottle of formula for Tim to feed him with because I was convinced he wasn't getting enough colostrum, and watching him down a 4-oz bottle and then curling up in Tim's arms, content and quiet. I responded by flying off the handle. After shouting nonsensical words, I finally sobbed, "I've spent the past two days trying to feed him, I'm in a lot of pain, and all he does is scream at me. You give him one bottle and you make him happy!!"
Weeks two and three got progressively better, not without a lot of prayer and effort to try to get our lives and our home back to normal. And Tim certainly deserves a Superman Award for doing everything while he was home with us because I could hardly walk! Recovery was a lot slower this time around... So Tim not only did the housework, but took Linc to his doctor's appointments, the big kids to the park, Aislin to preschool; and he thought ahead for when he'd have to go back to work and I'd be on my own, meaning he bought a ton of precooked foods, paper plates and plasticware :)

Lincoln is three-months-old now, and although my days have never been busier, I believe we've gotten to that point where we feel stable--again--as a family. We're not as stressed out, we haven't been neglecting the big kids and then feeling like horrible parents for not doing more for them, and we've settled back into our life as if Linc had always been a part of it. We all harangue that poor boy until he either smiles at us or speaks to us in his baby babble. We can't help it--we love him oh so much :)

"Baptism"

I found this piece of writing the other night in an old composition notebook. I was surprised when I read it. I could remember the night I was baptized on Feb 9, 2008...but I had already forgotten the details. So after feeling surprised, I just felt thankful that these words were written down and never thrown away :)

"Baptism"

The water feels warm. I remember the missionaries saying they would try to heat it before I got in, and I'm thankful for that. Maybe this water has been sitting, heating, waiting for me to go in, and maybe it's just been a busy morning and others have kept it warm for me.

Paper and skirts rustle on the other side of the font as people inch forward in their seats and crane to the side, all hoping to get a memorable view. They're whispering, preparing themselves and each other for the coming words, a man's voice--my husband's--and his uplifted hand. All I see is the water and the white of my clothes. My husband's hand on the middle of my back is secure. I might have felt scared and alone without it there, but it's as steady as when we hold hands. He begins to speak and his voice trembles. Veterans of the Church would say he "feels the Spirit strongly," but I'm still new to the word "Spirit." I'm still new to what I feel. It shocks me to hear his voice tremble.

I clamp my nose between my fingers and look up at him for a moment, a confirmation, before he pulls me backwards into the water. I feel weightless, surprised to feel my feet float off the floor. The light I see through my eyelids reminds me of the sun. For an instant, I am a child again floating in the pool of an apartment my family and I had lived in. I am a child in the water doing nothing more than bobbing up and down and splashing around, but I am full of joy and life.

I open my eyes and feel the floor under my feet again. It's time to move forward, to leave the water and climb the steps out of the font. I feel something, in fact I'm brimming with it. So when my husband says, "I love you," I say nothing more than, "Thank you." I am full of thanks for what I've been given.

I step into the changing room, my wet feet slapping against the tile floor, dripping in a white outfit I would rather not part with. My arms are cold now but the clothes are still warm against my body. I realize then that I'm overwhelmed by the small task of drying off, so I work slowly--drying my hair, stepping into nylons while tiptoeing around the puddles I've made. Then, finally, I open the door.

I find the sister missionaries on the other side. "How do you feel?" one asks. "Do you feel different?" asks the other. I look at them and feel relieved, thankful to talk to them before returning to the busy room with an audience. I nod and say that I feel wonderful, which is to say that I feel no different from how I've felt in the last few months. They nod with understanding and give me a hug, a gesture of encouragement during what seems like an intermission, a push out the door to help me finish what I started. In that doorway within the dim and quiet hallway, we are friends.

The night is long, it is almost over. I sense everyone's weariness. The program says now is the time for the bearing of testimonies--most importantly, most expectantly, mine. But I do not stand up. I sit uncomfortably, embarrassed and ashamed. I'm too afraid to speak. So the bishop stands and wraps up the ceremony, and the night ends with hand shakes and congratulations.
In later years, I will look back at this moment--this brief but astounding moment--and wish I had said something.

I am a newborn in the Church, eyes still wide, a voice without words. I hold a testimony in my heart but it's one that I fear is too simple for most adults. I feel silly at the thought of bearing it. Childish. Ineloquent. Still, I know the Church is true and that the gospel is a real thing, not just a philosophy or a suggestion. I know these things are good and of God, and that following commandments in faith leads to unexplainable blessings. I could cry knowing in what ways I have been blessed.
I am grateful.
These things I leave with you in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.