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not everyone gets a typical Christmas 2.0…

When I told my husband I was scheduled to work Christmas morning, we immediately went into planning mode. You see, last year I worked Christmas Day. I was new, fresh off of maternity leave, and I wanted to be a team player. I didn’t say a word when I learned I was scheduled to work Christmas Eve & Christmas Day.
I actually enjoyed my shift (I used to work with kids at a psychiatric hospital), and I was off at 3pm in time to enjoy time with both my in-laws and parents. However, I was later able to look back and pinpoint Christmas Day as the catalyst for my bout with postpartum depression. I was numb after work, and I didn’t really soak up the holiday spirit. I was not gonna let that happen this year. We decided to have an early breakfast at Waffle House before my shift this year. My parents jumped at the idea when they heard. My sleepyhead brother even decided to join us. I was beyond excited!
5am Christmas mornin’ came early. I showered, dressed, and woke up my beloved. He stumbled out of bed and into a pair of long johns. Once he got his pants up over them, he walked back into the bedroom and flopped straight back on the bed. He mumbled something about needing me to come to him. I thought that lazy man was falling back asleep; apparently, his long underwear had ridden up under his pants, and he wanted me to pull them down for him! I laughed and obliged.
Ames was so cheerful. He didn’t mind the early wake-up call whatsoever. We got him into a new diaper and threw a coat over his pajamas. He cooed and giggled as Chris strapped him into the carseat, and then we were off. This might have been the best Christmas morning I’ve ever shared with my family. At one point, we were the only patrons in the diner. There was lot of coffee. My heart was full.
My shift was long, but I got through it. There was free food and lots of Christmas cheer at the hospital. Everyone working was in the same boat – at work and away from their family; we all made the most of it. Snow was falling as I ran out to greet Chris & the boys. They went overboard telling me how much they’d missed me and wishing me a Merry Christmas. I tried to soak it up, but I just wanted to be quiet for a few minutes. I could feel that dreaded darkness creeping into my heart, the bitterness at having missed another Christmas with my loved ones. 
I only let one tear roll down my cheek, though. It escaped when I saw my parents standing in the doorway of their home, waiting for me with open arms. They hadn’t eaten or opened a single present all day. They’d volunteered at the local rescue mission that morning and prepared a huge meal for us to share when I got off work. I about lost it. I am so blessed!
The stockings were hung & stuffed – all 10 of them. There was one for each of us, and two mini stockings hanging behind mine. Remember the part where we’re having twin girls in the spring? Remember the time we’re about to become a family of seven, with five kids? My family is so thoughtful. Chris kept saying it over and over. I’m glad he loves my parents as much as I do. 
We had an amazing late dinner and loaded everyone up. It was quick but precious. I got sad again on the way home, but the husband was so sweet and encouraging. One more day, he said. I just had to make it through one more day, and I had four days off to relax and catch up on Christmas. 
That man followed through, alright. He woke up early with me yesterday and drove me to work in the snow –  it was so pretty! We ate breakfast in the car and talked quietly in the empty parking lot before I walked into the hospital. It was so tender. 
The day went by fairly quickly, and Chris had my parents pick me up. When we walked in the front door, he had two pots of chili on the stove, the baby bathed & pajama-ed, and the house ready for guests – my family was staying for dinner…surprise! My brother walked in a few minutes later, and we all shared a few more hours of fellowship. My mom and dad even joined in on a game of bocce ball on the new PlaystationMove, the attachment system we supposedly “got the boys” for Christmas.
This morning kicks off my four-day vacation from work.
You can follow along on my twitter account, @LetterstoAmes.
So far, I’ve showered and eaten a delicious breakfast prepared by the boys.
Now, I’m lying on my bed sipping coffee and snacking on pineapple.
Chris banished me after I tried to help him fold laundry. It’s almost 2pm.
I think I might have died and gone to heaven.
HAVE I MENTIONED I LOVE MY FAMILY?!

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marriage

the anniversary.

Can you believe it’s been TWO YEARS?! I am so thankful for this marriage.
To celebrate, we headed up to Asheville for a midweek getaway. Asheville is an amazing town in the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina, home to some of my favorite things – my grandparents and other friends & family, a funky downtown, a culture of natural living, and the Grove Park Inn. Thanks to Jessica at the B Keeps Us Honest, we had a free night at the resort and spa! We decided to use it to enjoy an evening that topped even the honeymoon stay two years ago…
We got into town shortly before check-in time and decided to grab a treat at one of the local coffeeshops, True Confections. I ordered a hot chocolate in the largest size possible (Chris was proud), and he had a macchiato (“not caramel, Rachael…a REAL macchiato”). We sat beside the window and nibbled on a delicious piece of banana nut bread. There was snow on the ground outside. We soaked up the moment, just sitting quietly shoulder-to-shoulder. Afterwards, we took the long way back to our car, window-shopping before heading up to the resort.
Checking in! This place is magical.
We made dinner reservations at the Sunset Terrace for 8pm. Before that, though, we sat on the bed and ate boiled peanuts while flipping aimlessly through the cable channels. Chris always rips the bedspreads off, for fear of cooties. Anyway, it was a little piece of heaven. We stayed in room 450, just down the hall from our honeymoon spot. We’d requested that room, but it was under renovation. And besides, our new room was bigger & brighter!
Impromptu photo shoot as we soaked up the room!
 
We strolled down to the Magnolia Lounge for happy hour, stopping to look at the gingerbread houses along the way. Chris drank a Highland Gaelic Cashmere India Pale Ale, brewed in Asheville. I drank a Shirley Temple. We split an order of fried oysters with cocktail & tartar sauces. There were Christmas trees in every window of the resort, each decorated in a different theme. It was perfect.
Once we’d showered and gotten all dolled up, it was time for dinner!
We split a ton of food… stuffed portabella mushroom, iceburg wedge salad, NY strip, and garlic mashed potatoes. So glad we decided to share. There was almost too much deliciousness!
After dinner, we changed into pajamas & ordered room service. 
I mean, come on – I’m pregnant! Hot tea, coffee, and ice cream sundae fixings.
The next morning, we enjoyed breakfast downstairs in the Vanderbilt wing of the resort. I drank an iced coffee and scarfed down a ham & swiss croissant. Chris had a berry muffin, banana, and an americano. There are quite a few boutiques and shops in the inn, and we did a little Christmas shopping!
Some pajamas for the twins:
After checking out of the Grove Park, we spent the rest of the morning in downtown Asheville. There are so many cute vintage shops and bookstores and boutiques. We had a blast! I picked up a few used books on multiples, and we oohed and aahed over a store that sold locally made cloth diapers.
We finished the trip with lunch at Jersusalem Garden, where we shared a vegetarian platter and cuddled against the cold. Love mediterranean! You get satisfied without that full feeling. Yum.
We headed back to Charlotte/Fort Mill after that. It was time to buy our new living room furniture (yay) and pick up our kids (double-yay). This was my first time away from Ames, and I think I did very well!
All in all, this picture-heavy post should give you a glimpse into how beautiful this quick getaway was. I know we won’t have a lot of time to ourselves in the next year or so… it was nice to hold my husband’s hand and have to answer only to each other’s timetables and needs. Oh, and eating without having to feed a child during my meals was blissful!

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marriage motherhood

the anniversary warm-up.

This was the most amazing few days I’ve ever had with my husband. It was glorious. But before I can blog about that, I must share the most embarrassing, disgusting Ames story to date.
As I was reporting off to night shift Monday night, I received a text from Christopher that read, “I’m sorry to do this to you, but we are going to eat sushi tonight.” MMMmmmm, I love that man. What better way to kick off our anniversary celebration?! I jumped in the car and headed home at lightning speed (safely, of course). I was anxious to grab some dinner before Ames hit his “na na na” whiny bedtime hour.
When I arrived home, though, there were a few hitches. Chris had gotten Ames dressed and had him sitting in the highchair, letting him snack to tide him over. I gave that little boy a drive-by kiss as I headed to change out of my scrubs, but I could smell a problem. He’d soiled his diaper just as fast as his papa could slap it on him. I took him upstairs with me while Chris stayed downstairs to handle the other issue… Some people had decided to come and look at the loveseat we were trying to sell. They had called minutes after Chris made our impromptu dinner plans, and we definitely didn’t want to miss out on the sale. As it turns out, they were buying and loading the thing during this entire gruesome episode. I wonder what they thought when they heard me yelling…
I unsnapped the babe’s pants and knew it was gonna be a messy diaper. I decided to try something new, silly, and downright redneck. I started the bathwater and put Ames in it, clothes and all. I kept the drain unplugged and I stripped him down, rinsing the yuckies off as we went. The plan was to rinse off his diaper/cover/clothes, and then fill up the tub once it was clean of poop. Here’s an idea of how easy & fun bathtime usually is… This was taken a few months back.
At one point, I leaned over him to check his backside and make sure nothing was sticking to it. That’s when I saw the tiny hand go towards the mouth. I swatted it away, and said, “No, Ames. Yucky.” But it was too late. Ames looked up with a terrified look on his face – Mama, I’ve already done it. 
He began smacking his lips, as if to try and figure out what it was he was tasting. I screamed, “NO” and performed an emergency-my-baby’s-choking-on-crap finger sweep, pulling a chunk of poop out of the child’s mouth. My shrieking and involuntary scolding caused him to spill some serious crocodile tears. As he wailed, I took the opportunity to lather his mouth out with some Burt’s Bees soap. I couldn’t help it; I was so disgusted. I needed him to be my clean, innocent baby again – a baby who had never tasted poop. I tried to explain, but he wasn’t having it.
He recovered quickly after the rinse. Personally, I took a bit longer to regain compsure. I stared in disbelief and tried to get my mind around what had just happened. I couldn’t even bring myself to put together a cutesie outfit for the kid. He wore his pajamas on our sushi date. MY SON TRIED TO EAT HIS POOP, Y’ALL.
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household management marriage

the sweetest thing.

In all of our living situations, we’ve put money towards the most functional rooms first. Often times, our bedroom remains as four walls with a bed and a dresser for months. This move was no exception. I was not in a hurry to decorate the master suite because I knew this would be our home for years. I wanted it to be done right, and I was willing to wait until we could spend the money and effort on a quiet Momma/Daddy paradise. We had plenty of time, right?
During Ames’ birth (in our rental house), I relied heavily on the furniture and artwork in my bedroom to help me through contractions. Afterwards, I spent a lot of time snuggled up in my bed and getting to know my new son. It was nice to have curtains hung and flowers on the bedside table. We didn’t have much, but it felt like home.
We finished our new home in May. It was now August, and we found ourselves pregnant again. The master bedroom was e-m-p-t-y, and something needed to be done STAT. I immediately began nesting; but this time, I nested for myself. I needed my bedroom done, and I needed it done in time for this new baby.
We started dreaming and scheming. I got back into the Craigslist swing of things, and I scored a fun iron bed. Chris dragged an eight-foot mirror home from Lucky Brand, and we propped it up against one wall. We painted our next door neighbor’s old shutters (they were throwing them out) and made a fun headboard. We waited for a good Black Friday deal on a Crate & Barrel desk I’ve loved since we got engaged. Of course, my late granddaddy Harley’s red trunk will forever remain a staple piece. And we’re in the market for a comfortable reading chair to put by the corner.
I had the day off and ran some errands this morning. When I returned home, Chris sent me upstairs for some “Momma time.” I thought this was sweet, as was the beautiful winter bouquet of flowers on the kitchen table. I know, I married Mr. Right. But wait, it gets better.
When I walked into our bedroom, my heart leapt. Chris had set up the desk with flowers, my computer, a copy of Real Simple, peanut M&M’s, and my late grandmother Helen’s stool.
He’d added some candles and framed pictures.
He’d also written me the most beautiful card, and he’d sealed it with a wax “K.” 
So formal, so thoughtful. 
In his note, he talked to me about the Father’s love for us, and how He’d blessed us with the opportunity to bring two more lives into the world. He told me he’d been born to make sure I always have a smile on my face. When he writes, I weep. Plain and simple.
I am not scared of anything with this man by my side.
He is my heart. He is my lovesong.

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fashion household management marriage

if it grew on trees…

My men in their monkey suits… Cute, right?!
Just a little birthday costume preview. Can’t believe Ames is one next week!

I have to admit, I’ve been feeling pretty down in the dumps lately. I’ve been feeling a lot of things… tired, worn down, sickly, overwhelmed, yikes! I’m a bit discouraged about where our family is versus where I’d like to take it.

I am content in the idea of Chris playing music full-time, but I pray for breakthrough daily. I want him to be fully appreciated (and compensated) for his gifts & talents. I hope that I’ll get to spend more time at home with my kids before they get old enough to remember. Until I am able to work part-time or not at all, though, I will continue to be the provider. And that’s okay.

In the meantime, I’ve decided to make a visual wish-list of things I’d buy if money really did grow on trees.

This is about…10 years in the making. I already have a tattoo by him inside my lower lip that says “HONOR,” but I will get tattooed again for REAL, by Chris Stuart, before I die. A big ol’ pigeon piece on my calf. And when I’m 90 years old and dragging behind a walker, I will show it off proudly – beneath my support hose. The inspiration comes from a dove obsession Christopher & I have… Here is a little idea from our wedding invitations.

I’ve always wanted a nice handbag. Maybe someday, I’ll get lucky like Mandy and win a Balenciaga?! One day, I might just reward myself regardless. And when I do, I’ll most likely buy a Cole Haan.

This is a Taylor 314, one of the nicest guitars EVER. It’s been on Christopher’s wish-list for years. In fact, he jokingly tried to figure out a way to add it to our wedding registry. He also tells people it’s what our soon-to-be toddler wants for his first birthday. Bless his heart.

Also on my list are two things for the house…
A privacy fence! Bamboo floors!
And our bedroom would look like a mixture of all of this glory…
Lots of colors, textures, & layers – can I get an amen?

We will get there someday. I squeal at the thought of how far we’ve come in the last two years! And who knows…maybe by the time we “make it,” we won’t even want this stuff anymore. 
I’m just trying to take each day at a time. I’m keeping my head up and doing what it takes to feed my family. I’m proud to be an artist’s wife. I’m proud to be a nurse. I love what I do, both at home and at work. I’m thankful that a full-time job for me only means three days a week. And my husband is home to take care of the house and the kids while I’m gone. I mean, talk about an ideal set-up!
I just can’t wait to see where God takes us in the seasons to come. I know one thing…I plan on waltzing into one of those seasons with a Cole Haan swinging from my arm!
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marriage

the mini-honeymoon…

When Chris & I got married, we didn’t have a lot of money. Not much has changed! Anyway, we decided not to take a week off and fly somewhere (I was in school and he was the only one working). So we decided to pack as much extravagance as we could into two days away after our wedding. We spent two different nights in two different hotels in two different cities. I was in shock; he was content.
We took no pictures. I don’t know why; we just never pulled our camera out. I took a few pictures on a cell phone that has since been replaced by an iPhone. They are most likely lost forever. So instead of being discouraged, I’m heading in the opposite direction from a Wordless Wednesday post; I’m writing down everything I remember about our two-day honeymoon, and I’ll sprinkle a few stock landmark photographs I find online.
We got married at our church, Warehouse242, which is close to downtown Charlotte. Surrounded by friends and family (literally – we got married in the round), we exchanged vows that we’d written and kept secret from each other. I presented Christopher with an extra wedding band, one that signified my commitment to Lucas & Avery. My brother played a song he wrote for us. Our fun & laid-back reception took place at an old bistro in uptown Charlotte. There were candles, wildflowers, brick walls, wood floors, leather club chairs – it was glorious.

Thanks to a hookup, we got a sweet deal on a night at the Westin, one of the nicest hotels in the area. Funny story: the guy who gave us the discount happened to be a fashion designer, a guy I hired to do all of the dresses for the bridal party, mine included. A few weeks before the big day, he took off to God-knows-where, disconnected his phone and took off with everything. We had to scramble to find new dresses.
Anyway, we enjoyed a beautiful night in room 2210, which is now our new home’s street address number – how ironic?! We checked in at the front desk, and the lady smiled and congratulated us. I paid for the room in cash and waited with our suitcase while Chris parked the car. It cost $20 to park in the hotel’s garage. I remember willing myself not to care about the money.
I can’t remember if Chris carried me into the room. I usually have such a sharp memory. Our room overlooked the street with a skyline view of Panthers Stadium. I thought it fitting, with Chris’ passion for Carolina football. I remember standing by the window while Chris went to the bathroom. I stared at my silhouette amongst all of the city lights. We were on one of the top floors. The cars looked like ants. I felt so pretty, wearing my veil and dress. But I felt so numb. The “big day” was coming to an end. I looked out and wondered if anyone driving by knew that I had just gotten married and was going to bed with my new husband, twenty-two floors above them.
In my wedding dress and a rare moment of vulnerability, I took Chris’ shoes and socks off and rubbed his feet. I tried to tell him all that he meant to me without letting my voice shake too much. I saved some of the soap and lotion. It smelled like white tea and ginger and aloe. I still have some left.
We slept in a king-sized bed and ordered breakfast in bed the next morning. It was expensive, so we only got one order and shared it. Chris let me eat most of it. I think we tried to read the newspaper. I put on a pair of jeans and Vans slip-ons for our trip to Asheville, feeling so under-dressed. I saved the parking ticket, but I’m not sure where it is now. Hopefully, I’ll find it in our box of wedding mementos. We went by my parents’ house to get a few things for that night. My dad made a joke about me not making eye contact, and then he called me a hussy (lovingly, of course). They hugged us and we were off. For some reason, I was embarrassed and just wanted to be alone with Chris.
We checked into the Grove Park Inn a few hours later. It’s a world-famous resort in Asheville, NC. Once again, I felt out-of-place. Chris stayed close by as we checked in. There were some issues with our reservations and how we’d pre-paid. I remember being worried that something was wrong. I’d let Chris take over this part and didn’t know the details.
Once we got it all squared away, we made our way to our room. Henry Kissinger’s name was on the wooden door. Apparently, he’d stayed there several times. I just called to find out the number – room 460. We spent that evening in the Spa. We got a couples’ massage. My therapist’s name was Matthew, and Chris had an older European lady named Jacinthe. I remember being nervous that Chris wouldn’t like that I had a male therapist. He said he’d requested it, because he thought I’d enjoy the comfort of a man’s hands.
We dunked in cold pools as deep as the ocean, lined with rocks. We floated in warm pools that changed colors and played music underwater. There was a women’s side, a man’s side, and then a community area. We sipped on cucumber-infused water and wore fancy bathrobes. I almost cried when someone addressed me as “Mrs. Kincaid.” I was still numb.
We dined at the hotel’s Sunset Terrace that evening, thanks to a wedding gift from a sweet friend. We ate crabcakes, duck (I think), and steak. There were fancy potatoes and fancy salads. Our table was by a window that overlooked one of the heated outdoor pools that played music underwater.
The next morning, we ordered another single breakfast in bed. I think we took a bath in the old ceramic tub. The ceilings were slanted, as we were on the top floor of the Main Inn. We checked out of the hotel and headed into downtown Asheville to walk around and eat lunch before heading back to Charlotte. Chris bought a black-and-gray scarf from a hippie boutique on the Battery, a cobblestone road blocked off to cars. I think we may have gone to that red double-decker bus that’s now a coffeeshop.
We went to Tupelo Honey for lunch. Although I’d been there before, something didn’t feel right about it that time. Nothing on the menu looked appealing, either. Chris left a few bucks on the table to cover our sweet teas, and we walked next door to Mayfel’s. Apparently, that was God-ordained, because we are obsessed with it now. Chris had the meatloaf and went to heaven. I enjoyed shrimp and grits. And then we headed home.

One of our first nights back, I crawled into bed and burst into tears. I had no idea why, but that was a dark season for me. I was so happy to finally be married and getting started on life with my husband, but a part of me was mourning the loss of the old me – Rachael Brown, daughter and sister and housemate and a whole bunch of other things I’d left to be “become one” with someone.
Chris held me for a few minutes that night, and then he jumped up. I heard him rummaging around in the suitcase we’d yet to unpack. He crawled back into bed and began reading aloud to me – his vows, from our wedding. He whispered and cried into my hair, and I fell in love all over again. I was home.
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marriage motherhood

Sacrificial Love

Today I started feeling carsick on the way home from grocery shopping. Chris encouraged me to lay my seat back and rest for a few minutes. [Side note: we do our grocery shopping together. I am so thankful for that.] 

As I drifted in and out of dreamy-land, I became disoriented and had one of those horror moments where you envision something bad happening to your family. I pictured us getting t-boned as we drove through a stoplight. The first thing that came to mind was, “Lord please let me get hurt instead of Ames. Let them hit us on this side.”
Morbid, I know. I quickly opened my eyes to find that we were perfectly safe and in fact, already back in our neighborhood. But the sacrificial thoughts kept coming. This is the first time since Ames’ birth that I’ve been able to get my mind around what it means to die for him.
My husband Chris and I have journeyed through years together, highs and lows, good times and bad. As terrible as this may sound, I feel like he’s earned my love and my willingness to die for him. I feel the same way about my mom, my dad, and my brother. We’ve dug in and held strong for each other in times of hardship, and we’ve celebrated and carried each other through times of victory. I can easily say I’d take a hit for any of these people, in a heartbeat.
For those of you who were around Letters to Ames during the early months after his birth, you remember my dark season of postpartum depression. I struggled a lot with the fact that babies are takers, not givers, for a big chunk of their lives. It was a hard task, dying to myself every day for a little boy who had no idea what that meant. He could not yet appreciate me and my love for him. I wasn’t prepared for that. I tried to be, during the weeks leading up to his birth…but it blindsided me.
Maybe somewhere along the way, my baby grew into an appreciative one. More likely, however, is the probability that God pricked my heart for this creature, a thousand times over, on a daily basis. Now it aches for my son. He has joined the ranks of the few who have elbowed their way into my heart, forever to reside and lay claim.
Thank you, Ames Emmanuel, for this slow and painfully beautiful process.
And if ever a situation arises that threatens, know that I will fight for you until my last breath.
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