It's A...Part II

Alright all of my friends and family.

First of all, I want to thank everyone for their support and interest in everything Peanut. I am 5 months along, and it is just crazy to think that the holiday season is around the corner!

Ok. Enough stalling. I would like to introduce you with Peanut's new name:

Minerva.

Ok ok. So I was not telling the entire truth there. But Cary and I thought it would be fun to name our kids after Harry Potter characters (Minerva is Professor McGonagall's first name. She is the head teacher over the Griffindor house)

The REAL and true name of Peanut is:

Brylee Jarvis McFadden.

We're having a girl!!!!

Does Birth Order Really Count?

Well, when I say that, I mean if there is a boy first or a girl first.

Example: tomorrow I would love to find out that Peanut is a little boy. Why exactly? Because I always pictured the big brother protecting the little sister. The things he would do to take care of her when there are bullies around. Or as my co-worker Penny says, she could crush on her older brother's friends...

But then I think back to the stories I've heard about my parents. My mom was the oldest of her siblings, and she fought and protected her little brothers with everything she had. And today, they will stick up for her, but she still will fight to protect them. And I'm scared to see what can be done...

And then, there was my dad. The oldest of 4 children. The first out of 2 boys. And I've heard some stories of him picking on his younger sisters. Snakes in the bed being one that comes to my memory.

Not that the little brother can't pick on the older sister, but hmmm...perhaps from the Jarvis side, a little girl that can protect herself might be a good idea...

Apartment Sweet Apartment

What does a couple do when they live in a 560 ft. 1 bedroom apartment and they are expecting a little one?

They go apartment hunting of course! (**Sorry--this may get as long as the process itself!)

That is what Cary and I had the joy of doing on Saturday this last weekend. However, this was not the first time we looked into the prospects of the 2 bedroom. The hunting started about 2 months ago, when we took a visit to our apartment complex to inquire about their larger facilities.

We spoke with a very nice lady (shame on me for not getting her name) and she showed us one of the smallest 2 bedroom options (mostly the same floorplan, but with an option of 1 1/2 baths or just 1). She sat us down and talked to us about the monthly rent ($...) and then put us on a waiting list for the first available for us. She also told us that because we are current residents, there shouldn't be a problem with us 'breaking' the current lease and moving into the 2 bedroom without going through the security deposit and all of the other 'fun' stuff...

2 months later, Cary and I had not heard from her or anyone else, so again we went to the complex. The lady this time looked at us perplexed about a waiting list. She searched a book of apartment information and did not find anything. So she had us put our names on a list again, this time with an estimate of $... + $75/month. Again, I did not get her name. Oh, and she said that 4 apartments were opening up on 8/10 (when we went in it was 8/2) and she would call us.

So, Cary went to the complex after work on 8/10 and spoke with a guy. This time we have a name! But he said that the apartments were empty, one on the 1st floor (our 1st option) but they had to get it ready to show, so we were not able to go check it out until 8/13. "So, come in early on Thursday and take a look!"...so, if we are not there early on Thursday, it can be taken away? "No, no! I'll make a note that you want to see it. And the rates are now $... + 100/month" But it was $... when we first inquired, and then $... + $75...is this going to continue? "No problem, we can work out a deal!" Hmmm....

So Cary inquired about it again on Thursday, and they told us that the apartment bathroom had to be re-done, so we couldn't see until Monday. And when Cary inquired about the rising prices, he was told that if we put down a deposit (on an apartment we couldn't see), then it would have frozen the monthly rent at where it was at the time...NOW they tell us???

So on Saturday Cary and I went around Las Colinas checking out potential apartments. Out of the 5 or so we looked at, I did like something about all them, but of course the options were narrowed down by dislikes: 3rd floor only option, tiny kitchen, lingering cigarette or Indian food smell, location...

We discussed the pros and cons for each, and then went back to our apartment complex, which still is the most ideal because of the cost, location, and quietness. This time we spoke with a really nice lady who was assisting for the day because the complex is short-handed (no wonder why I never see the same person twice!). I told her that we were interested in a 2 bedroom, and even though we want a first floor, we wanted to check out the 2nd level just to see if it was workable. She handed us the key and let us go by ourselves to check it out. It was nice to be able to sit down and look at the options without a third body standing over us.

All in all, both of us are still interested in the 1st floor apartment, and Cary will go by the complex today to look at it. My fingers are crossed (and I'm saying prayers) that this will be the right fit for us: no overly pungent food or cigarette smell, and the apartment looks like it is in great shape. Otherwise, we are back at square one. But fortunately, this time we have backups!

More Ramblings From A PW

So. Is it a really common thing for people to talk on the phone while going to the restroom? Now, I admit, when I wanted privacy at my job to talk to someone, I would go into the restroom to do so, but I would not be conducting business in the process!

I never could understand how women could converse while flushing toilets were going off all around them. I'm baffled every time....

And someone here at work pointed out to me one time that it's the same situation with Texting. But that doesn't affect me. Sure, you could think of some of the possibilities and that could be deterrent enough to not do so. But it's not like I'm texting, "Yeah, I haven't been going...(flush)...because I haven't been feeling well (second flush to make sure)...."

Hmmm....Just more miscellaneous thoughts from a pregnant woman!

Murder Is Afoot...

Or as Cary says, that would only be an amputation.

On Saturday, we had a game night with my parents, Uncle Bill and Ivan. We gathered at Bill and Ivan's new home for a murder mystery style game. Cary and I brought Chester as well, to see how he would get along with Bill's dog, Nina. They have met before, but Chester has always been a little intimidated by her. She is 3x his size after all!

The theme of the murder night was Ski Lodge, so we started off the evening taking pictures of all of us, some in winter gear, and listening to Christmas music. We had chili for dinner (the Christenson's recipe--YUM!), with No Bake Cookies (Bill's pre-birthday treat) and shapeless sugar cookies.

The sugar cookies were the biggest pain! Cary and I were going to make shapes with them and then frost them with icing and sprinkles, like so many families do at Christmas time. But when they baked, the shapes turned into blobs. So we just left it at that--icingless blob sugar cookies--but they were still tasty!

When we got to the scene of the crime, I assigned the characters (a.k.a.--held them upside down and said 'pick one!'). Unfortunately, 2 of our invites were sick, so they were not able to make it, but it was convienent that both Nina and Chester were there. They both became the remaining 2 (though Cary and I had to speak for them). It made for a funnier scenario though.

So...who was the murderer? While I still have my doubts and point at either Cary or Bill's characters, it did end up being....my character (I know--gasp!). I call it luck of the draw!

I hope everyone enjoyed the Murder Mystery Game Night, and maybe next time we'll have more people to help get into the act and flex their Private Eye skills!

Remembering to Praise God

As most of you know, Cary and I are regular attendants of Fellowship Church (www.fellowshipchurch.com) and love to pass on Ed's messages to others. But during the week, Cary listens to Craig Groeschel, the senior pastor at LifeChurch.tv and the messages he brings.

We first discovered Craig when Fellowship was joining with hundreds of other churches to do a united series, One Prayer. Craig did a guest sermon, and Cary and I walked away very moved by the message. You can see that here:

http://www.lifechurch.tv/message-archive/watch/one-prayer/2

Of course, I also encourage you to check out his other messages. Another one that has affected me in many ways is The Vow (http://www.lifechurch.tv/message-archive/watch/the-vow/1). The first message of this series is very powerful. It talks about how to keep your priorities:

God should be your #1
Your Spouse should be your #2
Then your children, work...

I like this message, and think about it daily. Which leads me to a question I have: How do you keep God #1 in your life when it is so easy to get swept up with your husband, children, family, friends, work....

I find myself talking to God here and there on a daily basis, and Cary is really good at making sure we sit down on the weeknights and read a chapter of the Bible and praying. But unfortunately, I tend to go about my day without conversing much with Him, or taking the time to listen to Him. And I need it, with the way my job makes me crazy at times.

So--how do you keep God your #1 priority? Any suggestions on how to listen to Him better when there are so many physical distractions in our day?

London Vacation Day 8

Is it really here???? The final day of our trip to London??? I am FINALLY getting out of this haze and writing it???? You better believe it! (thanks to the beginning assistance from my favorite husband!)


The day started early, as did every day on this trip. Our sole objective today was making sure we got on a plane to come home. After the call from Cary's mom the previous night we were a bit uncertain as to our flight arrangements for today. They had said that we were on the new flight but could not give us a seat assignment. We were not sure if this was just there way of telling us that we MIGHT get on the flight. So we had just a little bit of added pressure. We wanted to make sure that we got there not only on time but a little early so that if we had to stand by for the flight that we could be first on the list.


We started out early by getting to the Tube and riding out to Heathrow. Remember the Underground strike I mentioned earlier in the week? Well, fortunately for us, they ended at 7:00 the evening before. Otherwise we would have been riding an expensive taxi out to there.


It took us a bit of time once we got to the airport to check in our baggage and get our temporary tickets for the flight. And then through security, where all 4 of us were questioned as to why we only had temporary tickets. Oddly enough, I was behind dad, and the guy let him through with very little questioning...I had to wait longer for the security guy to get an explanation!


Once we were inside the gate area, we made our way to our gate, just so we could see it and get an idea of how far we had to go when it came time for 'the battle'. I'm glad we scoped it out first--it was at the very end of the airport!

We saw when we got there another plane boarding for Dallas, so we jumped into the line in hopes that we would be able to get onto that flight. Unfortunately, no luck, but it allowed us time to go get breakfast before our gate opened.

We went to a place called The Pub and ordered a pancake breakfast. Not as tasty as American food (which we have apparently become spoiled to), but it was much better than the hotel's powdered breakfast.

We got finished with our meal just before the gate opened with our flight, so we walked back, only to jump in line and get told the same thing: you have your temporary ticket, which gives you a seat, but we can't give you your seat information yet....okay...

So off to the restroom mom and I go to get cleaned up, and then to our sitting area. Well, dad and Cary were already there, but we had to go through security...and get the pat down! Fortunatley, it was very tolerable, and not long after that, we were watching others get their pat-downs...what entertainment!

I started to get nervous. Excited that we found a flight to come home on and we wouldn't have to sleep in the uncomfortable chairs, but nervous because I didn't want the 4 of us to be split. But I did come up with an idea: since dad and Cary have flown many times by themselves, they could sit by themselves. Mom and I could sit together and hold each other's hands if needed.

Fortunately, we didn't have to do that. When we got our seats, they were all together, 2 in front of the other. And at the BACK of the airplane. Yes...the VERY back. Last row, by the bathrooms, where the coffee brewed and circulated around us. And all the flight attendants gathered for conversation (there were about 7 on duty and about 20 off-duty--exaggeration).

To cut the story short because there is not much more to report, the flight was long. I watched He's Just Not That Into You (fairly funny, I liked Ginnifer Goodwin) and close to home we hit a bunch of turbulence....I did not like that part!

Gary was great and picked us up and took us to the apartment where we then drove mom and dad home. We got to observe the damage done to the homes and yards after the big storm that hit while we were away. The best part of getting home? Our dog. Our yummy food. And our bed!!

Your Daily Cry...

Just read this email sent to me from my mom. It may or may not be true, but it tugged at my heart, and tears were streaming down my face within moments of just starting! Just pasting it here is bringing the tears back! It is long, but worth it!

The Story of Tank

They told me the big black Lab’s name was Reggie as I looked at him lying in his pen. the shelter was clean, no-kill, and the people really friendly. I’d only been in the area for six months, but everywhere I went in the small college town, people were welcoming and open. Everyone waves when you pass them on the street.

But something was still missing as I attempted to settle in to my new life here, and I thought a dog couldn’t hurt. Give me someone to talk to. And I had just seen Reggie’s advertisement on the local news. The shelter said they had received numerous calls right after, but they said the people who had come down to see him just didn’t look like “Lab people,” whatever that meant. They must’ve thought I did.

But at first, I thought the shelter had misjudged me in giving me Reggie and his things, which consisted of a dog pad, bag of toys almost all of which were brand new tennis balls, his dishes, and a sealed letter from his previous owner. See, Reggie and I didn’t really hit it off when we got home. We struggled for two weeks (which is how long the shelter told me to give him to adjust to his new home). Maybe it was the fact that I was trying to adjust, too. Maybe we were too much alike.

For some reason, his stuff (except for the tennis balls – he wouldn’t go anywhere without two stuffed in his mouth) got tossed in with all of my other unpacked boxes. I guess I didn’t really think he’d need all his old stuff, that I’d get him new things once he settled in but it became pretty clear pretty soon that he wasn’t going to.

I tried the normal commands the shelter told me he knew, ones like “sit” and “stay” and “come” and “heel,” and he’d follow them – when he felt like it. He never really seemed to listen when I called his name – sure, he’d look in my direction after the fourth of fifth time I said it, but then he’d just go back to doing whatever. When I’d ask again, you could almost see him sigh and then grudgingly obey.

This just wasn’t going to work. He chewed a couple shoes and some unpacked boxes. I was a little too stern with him and he resented it, I could tell. The friction got so bad that I couldn’t wait for the two weeks to be up, and when it was, I was in full-on search mode for my cellphone amid all of my unpacked stuff. I remembered leaving it on the stack of boxes for the guest room, but I also mumbled, rather cynically, that the “darn dog probably hid it on me.”
Finally I found it, but before I could punch up the shelter’s number, I also found his pad and other toys from the shelter. I tossed the pad in Reggie’s direction and he snuffed it and wagged, some of the most enthusiasm I’d seen since bringing him home. But then I called, “Hey, Reggie, you like that? Come here and I’ll give you a treat.” Instead, he sort of glanced in my direction – maybe “glared” is more accurate – and then gave a discontented sigh and flopped down. With his back to me.

Well, that’s not going to do it either, I thought. And I punched the shelter phone number.
But I hung up when I saw the sealed envelope. I had completely forgotten about that, too.

“Okay, Reggie,” I said out loud, “let’s see if your previous owner has any advice.”

To Whoever Gets My Dog: Well, I can’t say that I’m happy you’re reading this, a letter I told the shelter could only be opened by Reggie’s new owner. I’m not even happy writing it. If you’re reading this, it means I just got back from my last car ride with my Lab after dropping him off at the shelter. He knew something was different. I have packed up his pad and toys before and set them by the back door before a trip, but this time… it’s like he knew something was wrong. And something is wrong… which is why I have to go to try to make it right.

So let me tell you about my Lab in the hopes that it will help you bond with him and he with you.
First, he loves tennis balls, the more the merrier. Sometimes I think he’s part squirrel, the way he hordes them. He usually always has two in his mouth, and he tries to get a third in there. Hasn’t done it yet. Doesn’t matter where you throw them, he’ll bound after it, so be careful – really don’t do it by any roads. I made that mistake once, and it almost cost him dearly.

Next, commands. Maybe the shelter staff already told you, but I’ll go over them again: Reggie knows the obvious ones – “sit,” “stay,” “come,” “heel.” He knows hand signals: “back” to turn around and go back when you put your hand straight up; and “over” if you put your hand out right or left. “Shake” for shaking water off, and “paw” for a high-five. He does “down” when he feels like lying down – I bet you could work on that with him some more. He knows “ball” and “food” and “bone” and “treat” like nobody’s business.

I trained Reggie with small food treats. Nothing opens his ears like little pieces of hot dog.

Feeding schedule: twice a day, once about seven in the morning, and again at six in the evening. Regular store-bought stuff; the shelter has the brand.

He’s up on his shots. Call the clinic on 9th Street and update his info with yours; they’ll make sure to send you reminders for when he’s due. Be forewarned: Reggie hates the vet. Good luck getting him in the car – I don’t know how he knows when it’s time to go to the vet, but he knows.
Finally, give him some time. I’ve never been married, so it’s only been Reggie and me for his whole life. He’s gone everywhere with me, so please include him on your daily car rides if you can. He sits well in the backseat, and he doesn’t bark or complain. He just loves to be around people, and me most especially.

Which means that this transition is going to be hard, with him going to live with someone new.
And that’s why I need to share one more bit of info with you….

His name’s not Reggie.

I don’t know what made me do it, but when I dropped him off at the shelter, I told them his name was Reggie. He’s a smart dog, he’ll get used to it and will respond to it, of that I have no doubt but I just couldn’t bear to give them his real name. For me to do that, it seemed so final, that handing him over to the shelter was as good as me admitting that I’d never see him again. And if I end up coming back, getting him, and tearing up this letter, it means everything’s fine.
But if someone else is reading it, well… well it means that his new owner should know his real name. It’ll help you bond with him. Who knows, maybe you’ll even notice a change in his demeanor if he’s been giving you problems.

His real name is Tank.

Because that is what I drive.

Again, if you’re reading this and you’re from the area, maybe my name has been on the news. I told the shelter that they couldn’t make “Reggie” available for adoption until they received word from my company commander. See, my parents are gone, I have no siblings, no one I could’ve left Tank with… and it was my only real request of the Army upon my deployment to Iraq, that they make one phone call the the shelter… in the “event”… to tell them that Tank could be put up for adoption. Luckily, my colonel is a dog guy, too, and he knew where my platoon was headed. He said he’d do it personally. And if you’re reading this, then he made good on his word.

Well, this letter is getting too downright depressing, even though, frankly, I’m just writing it for my dog. I couldn’t imagine if I was writing it for a wife and kids and family. But still, Tank has been my family for the last six years, almost as long as the Army has been my family.

And now I hope and pray that you make him part of your family and that he will adjust and come to love you the same way he loved me.

That unconditional love from a dog is what I took with me to Iraq as an inspiration to do something selfless, to protect innocent people from those who would do terrible things… and to keep those terrible people from coming over here. If I had to give up Tank in order to do it, I am glad to have done so. He was my example of service and of love. I hope I honored him by my service to my country and comrades.

All right, that’s enough. I deploy this evening and have to drop this letter off at the shelter. I don’t think I’ll say another good-bye to Tank, though. I cried too much the first time. Maybe I’ll peek in on him and see if he finally got that third tennis ball in his mouth.

Good luck with Tank. Give him a good home, and give him an extra kiss goodnight – every night – from me.

Thank you, Paul Mallory

I folded the letter and slipped it back in the envelope. Sure I had heard of Paul Mallory, everyone in town knew him, even new people like me. Local kid, killed in Iraq a few months ago and posthumously learning the Silver Star when he gave his life to save three buddies. Flags had been at half-mast all summer.

I leaned forward in my chair and rested my elbows on my knees, staring at the dog. “Hey,
Tank,” I said quietly. The dog’s head whipped up, his ears cocked and his eyes bright.

“C’mere boy.”

He was instantly on his feet, his nails clicking on the hardwood floor. He sat in front of me, his head tilted, searching for the name he hadn’t heard in months.

“Tank,” I whispered. His tail swished.

I kept whispering his name, over and over, and each time, his ears lowered, his eyes softened, and his posture relaxed as a wave of contentment just seemed to flood him. I stroked his ears, rubbed his shoulders, buried my face into his scruff and hugged him.

“It’s me now, Tank, just you and me. Your old pal gave you to me.”

Tank reached up and licked my cheek. “So whatdaya say we play some ball? His ears perked again. “Yeah? Ball? You like that? Ball?” Tank tore from my hands and disappeared in the next room.

And when he came back, he had three tennis balls in his mouth.

London Vacation Day 7

Good day all! So, because I have been in such a slump with writers block and finishing up the London Vacation, Cary has generously stepped up and wrote about Day 6 for me. How did I get such a guy?!?!?

And now, introducing the greatest hubby around! :

The morning started like most, with my eyes shut. But this morning was slightly different than others I have known. Although I was still in the darkness of my sleep I could tell that it was already bright outside. A quick and fuzzy glance at the clock beside our bed confirmed my fear. It was only 4:30 and the sun was already beaming. “Just 4 more hours of sleep please, Mr. Sun.” But then I remembered a very important fact that changed everything, something that made a 4:30 sun a good thing. We were in London, England!

So after a short nap, we had a quick up and at them, a phone call to the parents in their luxury suite and we were out the door for another day of adventure. Since this was our last full day in the city, we were going to use it to the little things that we had not gotten to yet. The first task was breakfast. We made our way over to the Thames and Big Ben area in hopes that there would be a different place for breakfast. We ended up at the world’s tiniest “super” market, one aisle so narrow it should have been one way. The pickings were slim, but we all found something to sustain us. We found a bench over looking the Thames, with the new London Eye Ferris wheel on the opposite bank. It was very peaceful and made a very unique and wonderful breakfast spot.

Then off toward the Horse Guards building to see if we could make the horse laugh, or where we supposed to make the soldier perched on his back laugh? Either way neither happened, but we did discover that they were having the changing of the Horse Guards in about 30 minutes. The changing of the Horse Guards is just like the changing of the Guards at Buckingham palace but oddly enough on Horses. So, with a quick side trip to #10 Downing St, (where we saw nothing but a bunch of school kids who also saw nothing) we were back to the parade grounds to stake out a good spot for the “Change”. It was less than spectacular but glad we did it. Now we can always say that we saw it, and that is a good enough reason to do anything, once.

Another thing that we found out while we were waiting was that they were having a birthday party for the one of the Queen’s offspring that night and we were invited (along with anyone else who wanted to buy a ticket). The Queen and her husband were going to be there and if we came we would get to see her pass by in her Rolls Royce. We decided to pass on the invite; I hope the Queen didn’t take it personal.

We made our way just down the street to the War Rooms and Churchill Museum. This was an excellent museum of the Cabinet War Rooms, were we got to see the actual rooms, desks, maps, and phones used. It also contained a large, very interesting museum about the life of Winston Churchill. The whole thing was so interesting that I went through it twice, as did Tressia and Bryan. And Jenn actually went through it 3 times! (Truth: we keeping getting separated from one another and had to keep going back through it to find everyone).

After the museum, it was lunch time. We found ourselves at The Bag o’ Nails Pub. On the way I was accosted by a horde of French middle school girls on a field trip. Everyone says that they were just trying to learn English and the London culture, but I could tell, they though I was cute. After the pub it was up to Hyde park, which included a visit to the Serpentine Lake, the Italian Gardens (where we learned about the terrible storms that blew through DFW and the Lewisville Tornado), the Peter Pan Statue (which was our main goal), and Kensington Palace. Then, due to your ever tiring feet, we decided that a Taxi cab ride was in order.

As we darted in and out of traffic, around twisting little roads and major 6 lane road (all on the wrong side I might add), we suddenly came to a stop right in front of Buckingham Palace. I thought to myself, I wonder if the Queen has left for the Birthday party yet. Just as I turned around (I had been riding in a rear facing seat) I saw motorcycle cop blocking the road in front of us. I then turned towards the Palace and right there, about 20 yards away, just on the other side of an iron fence I saw the Queen and her hubby in the back of their Rolls. We were so close that I can tell you with certain assurance that she wore the most lovely and delicate foral hat that I’ve seen all season.

After the quick glimpse it was away we go to our hotel just around the corner. That night ended with a fruitless search for Indian food (even though we had seen them on every corner during every other part of our trip) and we settled for the Chinese buffet that we had a couple of days before.

Jenn's added note: Once we were back at the hotel, we received a call that we did not expect to receive: Cary's mom, Brenda. She saved the day by hunting us down and telling us that due to terrible weather in Dallas/Ft. Worth, the flight we were supposed to be on the next day had been cancelled...so Cary and I scrambled to my parents' room to call American Airlines and try to get our seats reserved for a flight home the next day. After about 45 minutes of sitting on the phone and planning, that was taken care of...for the night.

It was another successfully tiring day. Good job everyone!