Leave My Dreams, It's Not Your Heart

"Why are you here? Why won't you leave me alone?"

"I just want to make things better between us. Can't we be friends..."

He leaned in closer to my face and I could feel every hair on my body stand on end with fear. The last thing I wanted in that moment was for him to kiss me. Why can't he ever just disappear forever? Why does he keep coming back? I took several steps backwards and could feel my stomach wretch with anxiety...

"Please..."

"I am married. Why can't you understand that? Just leave me alone. Please!!!"

"I just..."

I reached out and shoved him away, feeling the anger and fear and anxiety dripping along with the tears that ran down my face.

"We can be friends... it's OK..."

He walked closer to me again... Why won't he get the danged picture??? "JUST GO AWAY AND LEAVE ME AL..."

My eyes jerked themselves open as I heard a sweet voice say "Hi, Mommy!" through an inserted pacifier. I was back in my bedroom, my bubbly daughter awake next to me. I looked at the clock - 6:18 AM. Steve must have already gone to... wait. Steve wasn't there, he was away at his annual conference.

Me and my mini-me, having some morning snuggles...

The dream. That's why. I rubbed my eyes and breathed slowly to reset my quickly beating heart, snuggling my giggling daughter and remembering all that God has surrounded me with. I reminded myself with each inhale that it was just a dream and with each exhale that it wasn't real. The recurring dream that I have each time that Steve is away on business - the one where my ex-boyfriend from 20 years ago shows up and tries to be a part of my life again. Sometimes he's trying to woo me, sometimes he's trying to just be friend, but always the sentiment is the same.

That he loved me. Never meant to hurt me. That he wants to reconcile. That he wants that part of my heart back. That I was his only love.

In every dream he is the 19-year-old that cheated on me not once, but twice. In every dream he is every bit the sweet-talker that my 14-year-old self couldn't resist and that my 17-year-old self took back and that my 19-year-old self believed his words that he would leave his then wife for me.

In every dream I want nothing more than for him to disappear. In every dream I want to know where my Steve is, because he is never there in these dreams but always missing. In every dream I can feel walls closing in around us, in every dream I am desperately fighting to get back to my present-day reality and begging through tears for my past to go as far away as possible.

After every dream I wake up uneasy. I wake up questioning things I never should be questioning. I wake up with faster heartbeats and quicker breaths, wanting to run back to where I wake up. The place that God has surrounded me with love and reassurance and His grace.

But I can rarely shake that feeling. That feeling that no one can be trusted. It takes days, sometimes weeks. Always Steve is reassuring, because he knows that this part of me causes deep insecurities and he wants me to be whole, to let this part of me die, to be released from it.

Last year after having this dream, I woke up and turned on Steve's iPad to watch some Netflix and try to get back to sleep. It was only 10:00 PM where Steve was, and iMessage sent across a text from a colleague that they should meet up for fries.

The bells went off. Who meets for fries at 10:00 PM? What the heck?

I called Steve and through tears told him about my dream, that I saw the text, and I just needed to hear his voice and know we were OK. Know that my fears were unfounded. Because God has blessed me with a husband who is willing to understand this part of me and help me through it - he stayed on the phone with me until I calmed down.

Then - and those who know my husband's love of condiments will understand this - he went and met some colleagues for fries with blueberry ketchup. Because that's what a condiment lover does when he and his colleagues don't want to get drunk at the after party during a conference.

My awesome, caring husband at his annual nerd conference.

So I lay there with my daughter listening to the hum of the fan and her adorable sweet voice through her pacifier and reminded myself that my husband is faithful. That he promised he would always be faithful from the first time I confessed this part of my soul to him and he has never done anything to demonstrate anything other than fulfilling this promise.

I said a prayer, asking God to help release me from these dreams. To help me finally remove 20 years of scarring and tell that 16-year-old in a heap on the floor of her kitchen, holding a phone in her hand and pouring tears out that it all turns out okay - better than okay, actually.

God, I begged, please... please... please kill this.

A couple of hours later I pulled out my phone and opened my devotional app while the kids finished up their breakfast on the porch. The topic of the day? "The Enemy's Tactic Against You." As I read through the devotional that focused on Genesis 3:1: "Now the serpent was more crafty than any of the wild animals the LORD God had made. He said to the woman, 'Did God really say, 'You must not eat from any tree in the garden''?"

I read on and could feel my pulse quickening as the images from the previous night's dream flittered across my memory. I devoured every word of the devotional, and inhaled through my teeth as I read these: "He uses four words: 'Did God really say...?' Maybe you haven't had the enemy slither up next to you in the form of a serpent and speak these words out loud. But I bet he's whispered them into your ear. After all, the enemy's greatest desire is to separate you from God."

I looked out across my yard to the breeze flitting through the trees and up at the outline of morning moon my son was excitedly pointing out. I could feel God's sentiment on my heart: "Danielle... I delivered you through that old life and gave you this life, these kids, your husband. The enemy has taken over this part of your heart - take it back. Do not listen to the whisper of the enemy anymore."

I closed my eyes... "In the name of Jesus... give me my danged heart back. In the name of Jesus, that belongs to my husband, that belongs to my family, that belongs to me, and most importantly that belongs to God. Give it back."

I opened my eyes and my daughter said "Pee-it-boo!" through her wide mouthed grin, and my son laughed.

I felt... relieved. I felt... at home again. I felt... empowered. I felt... full.

That morning when my husband had his video chat good morning with us, it was like fresh air filled my lungs. When he returned home that Friday, it was the first time I didn't feel relieved that he was home but rather felt fully and richly blessed that he had the opportunity to take advantage of this part of his career. I didn't feel on edge and looking for reasons to suspect, and instead have felt nothing but love and happiness and grace and the fullness of God's blessing on my marriage.

Watching for Daddy's car to come up the hill when he got home from the trip.

A few days after Steve got home, this was the key verse in my morning devotional: "Submit yourselves, then, to God. Resist the Devil, and he will flee from you." (James 4:7)

For at least the time being - and for the first time in a very long time - I have felt the Enemy release his grip from the part of my heart that was still crying on the kitchen floor of my parents' house hoping her sobs wouldn't wake up her sisters. I have been able to breathe easier for the first time in almost 20 years, having resisted the Devil and watching him flee.

"Therefore, put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand." (Ephesians 6:13)

There will come a time when the Enemy will come back, when he will try to take that part of my heart back again, when he will push down that insecure teenager to the floor and laugh as her tears flow. When he will remind her that she's not good enough for a guy to stick around, and that will always be the case.

It will be when that time comes that it will be up to me to put on the armor that God has given to me. It will be up to me to call to Him, to reach up in prayer and use the power that I have been given in the name of Jesus to resist those whispers.

Because the self-destruction of doing anything else just isn't worth it when compared to the beauty that lies in the life that God has gifted to me.

The Wednesday, The Mom Guilt, The Husband, and God

We call the day my daughter was born "The Thursday".

Every so often, I think about the day that will always be stamped in my heart as "The Wednesday". That is the last day that I had with just Will and I before I was blessed with his baby sister.

It was a gorgeous April day, the kind of day that I wasn't wearing any jacket at all and I was comfortable just throwing a little vest on Will to go outside and play. I wasn't feeling too terrible even though I was a week or so away from my scheduled c-section date to welcome Evie into the world. I felt puffy, large, and pregnant - but I still felt fairly mobile.

We went outside that afternoon after his nap and took advantage of the gorgeous weather. Winters in New England are always hard, so when those first few 50-60 degree days start to appear you learn to take advantage of them. Will had asked me in his cute little almost-two-year-old way to go outside when he woke up from his nap that afternoon, so we did.

He climbed on rocks in our garden. He wandered around the driveway and drove his little truck. We walked together up and down the sidewalk as he looked at ants and picked up sticks and examined the grass. We enjoyed the weather, we enjoyed each other.

Will's last day flying solo with Mommy - April 2014.

Then I went to bed. I got up. We did our hectic day. We had Evie by dinner.

The arrival of Evie grew our family in size, in heart, and exploded our capacity for love even further. She's sweet, she's energetic, she's bold, she's hilarious. I don't think that Steve, Will, or I can imagine her NOT being a part of our lives. She's seriously an amazing kid.

Sometimes Steve and I will split duty with the kids, either because he's got a day off from work or he's home for the weekend. Usually either he will sit with both of the kids while I do errands without needing to juggle extra people or we will split the kids up and take them for some one-on-one time with Mommy or Daddy. For their own reasons, both of these arrangements are wonderful and I've come to appreciate them. We have found that the significance of these times is not lost on any one of us, and we love when we all come back together.

I've never really thought twice about our little upgrade from 3 to 4. Having Evie and Will together all day was just a life change that I accepted and welcomed with open arms. I had never pined for the days of only one child, maybe because I grew up in a family with 4 (sometimes 5) children and never thought about the bond my parents had with each of us individually. I never asked my mom about her feelings as we continued to expand, just knew that she loved each one of us together and separately.

Me and the kiddos - May 2015

Last week, Steve got Friday off to "observe" the Fourth of July holiday. We decided to do our split-duty and I took Will to his speech therapy appointment. We chatted on the car ride up, he excitedly gave me the tour of the therapy center's new digs after the session, then he took my hand as we walked up the sidewalk back to my car to leave. He had his little hand in mine as we paused to check for moving cars in the parking lot before proceeding. Our shadows extended in front of us, and as I looked down at them I caught my breath.

I suddenly longed for that last day before Evie was born. Those days when it was just Will and I and there wasn't as much chaos and I could just watch in wonder as he discovered the world. The days when I could just snuggle with him without worrying about his sister trying to shove him off my lap for her turn or he could pick out a book without anyone quibbling about whose book was going to be read first. My heart had a brief moment of ache and want for those days of only having one child.

Then the dreaded Mom Guilt came over me like a tsunami crashing on the shore.

Image via SeizingHopeDotCom

Later as I was emptying the dishwasher, Steve could tell something was bothering me. So I confessed my horridness as a parent to him, defending myself that I don't want to NOT have Evie, I just miss those days of just Will. That I love Evie with all of my Evie love, but sometimes I just wish I could cuddle Will without them pummeling each other and whining about Mommy's lap.

I cried. I told him I felt horrible, and guilty, because Evie is amazing and I felt like I was betraying the love I have for her in a way.

Steve just laughed at me.

Not in that way, guys.

He gently took the dishes from my hand as he laughed and told me to stop feeling guilty. "Dee, just stop it. Seriously. You should not feel guilty right now."

He took me by the shoulders and just spoke the words that I needed to hear, that he needed me to hear, that God needed me to hear.

I don't remember the exact words, but the sentiment was this: I love Evie. I love Will. I love them with all of the heart that God gave me for each of them. God loves us individually and wants a relationship with each of us individually. And just as He loves us and wants a relationship with us individually, so has he designed parenting for us to love our children and have relationships with them individually.

As his words sunk into my heart, Steve continued to encourage me. "Honey, it is totally normal and OK for you to want to spend time with JUST WILL, and it's OK for you to want to spend time with JUST EVIE, and it's OK for me to want the same things. In fact, we probably should do a better job at making sure we spend time with JUST WILL and JUST EVIE individually."

We have an awesome family, and we need to work on our bonds together and apart. We need to love each other as a whole and as our parts.

Image credit to RLPhoto

I have often said that God created us in His image, and the closest thing that we will ever experience to what it's like to be Him as Our Father is to be a parent. To know what it's like to be willing to do anything for your children, to long for them to have the best, to want to protect them yet know that you have to let the go and let them grow. To be willing to lay your life on the line for them.

To want a relationship with them as individuals. To want them to look at you and say "I Love You" and mean it from their hearts, not because they feel an obligation to say so.

What my husband did as he spoke to me that day is remind me of this; he reminded me of this dynamic we have as parents to want to love and encourage and be with our kids individually. In The 5 Love Languages of Children, the authors write "If you have several children, you need to look for times when you can be alone with each one... The key to quality time is found in its values and priorities you as parents determine to cherish and implement in your home."

I should not feel guilty - that was the reminder my husband continued to give me for the remainder of the day. I love my children. I want my children to love God and have a relationship with Him.

They matter to me individually. The best way for me to know how to serve them and raise them and know what is best is to spend time with them one-on-one as well as together. The best way to know how they need me to love them is to spend time with them one-on-one as well as together.

I no longer feel guilty on this one.

I'll save my Mommy Guilt for the next time I lose my patience and temper.

When the Arrival is Different

It seems that there's a month, a day, or a week for everything these days. National Siblings Day, National Hot Dog Day, Talk Like a Pirate Day, Wear Green Underwear Day... well, that last one I made up.

Maybe it exists though.

A friend of mine recently posted on Facebook that April is National C-Section Awareness month, and while I'm not usually one to really line up in solidarity or support or whatever of these sort of things - this one is very near and dear to my heart. 

Both of my children were born via c-section.

Me pregnant with Will, 3 years ago yesterday, just about 38-39 weeks.

Even though I've said that out loud dozens of times, somehow typing it in the context of this post just made me pause and choke up a little bit. 

When we were pregnant with my son (and yes, I said "we" - my husband suffered through the pregnancy and don't kid yourself ladies, your spouse suffered too), I remember distinctly having this feeling on my heart that it was going to end in a c-section. God knows the whole story, the whole picture, and even though I sat through birthing classes and took notes and practiced breathing and did all my kegels... He was emotionally preparing me for what the end was really going to look like. 

At my 39 week appointment, I found out that the swelling I had been experiencing was due to a sudden spike in my blood pressure. I didn't have pre-eclampsia, but it was still alarming; I had put on 25-30 pounds in 3ish weeks, all water weight. After two non-stress tests and an overnight urine collection (that was fun), we were induced on our due date. 

I wasn't even a little dilated. The word my OB used was "pristine" to describe my cervix. 

24 hours passed and I still hadn't started contracting. I was barely dilated. The pitocin drip was started. After several more hours my water still hadn't broken; it wasn't until my OB threatened to force the issue that my water broke on its own around hour 36. An hour later I had my epidural. By hour 48 I was still only 4-5 cm dilated and it had been about 8 hours since Will's heart rate was recovering post-contraction they way that it should have been. 

50.5 hours later, Will received his official eviction notice. 

I was wheeled into the OR and I was scared. I had never had a major surgery before and even though God had been preparing my heart for this since the first time I had heard my son's heartbeat - I was still scared. I'm not sure if it was the chill of the OR, the anesthesia/morphine mix, or my nerves that had me shaking so badly on the table... probably all three. 

My husband just kept whispering Joshua 1:9 in my ear while squeezing my hand, a quiet and calming reminder from my teammate: "Be strong and courageous, God is with you... be strong and courageous, God is with you..." 

At 11:08 AM that day, Will was born.

In the recovery room with my little man Will.

I didn't get to push. He wasn't placed on my chest for immediate skin to skin and he didn't get his first milk against my bosom until about an hour later in our recovery room. 

I wasn't the first non-medical person to hold him. The first glance I got of my son was two nurses holding him towards me while they rushed him to get cleaned and warm and washed up. And while I am SO glad that Steve got the opportunity to be in the room while he was getting prepped and washed and got to help the nurses and give them his name...

...for about two years, there was a part of me that always mourned my textbook, perfect birthing momma moment that never happened. 

In my story and in every story I've heard of a first c-section, no one ever says that they wanted it to be that way. Even though God prepared my heart and I knew in my gut that it would be my story, a part of me was really looking forward to pushing, to having that moment of messy baby on my chest right out of the birthing canal. To have Steve cuddle into us and put his arm around me and our son and to have that be our story.

Instead my story was a cuddle on my net-covered head while I awkwardly held my son on the OR table for a brief moment until I was ready to be moved. 

A new baby and my first major surgery all in one day.

I couldn't stand up and change those first meconium diapers of grossness that they tell you about. Steve got the pleasure of changing those. It was almost 2 days before I was able to stand up over Will's crib and 3 days before I had the confidence to pick him up out of it myself without dropping him. Walking to the bathroom and showering were pains worse than the contractions before I got my epidural. 

Daddy and his firstborn son snuggled up in the hospital.

Two years of mourning what wasn't. My friends were having their babies and coming home and while they were sore, they weren't under the same doctors orders I was of no lifting and not being able to drive. They didn't come home with scripts for narcotic pain killers. They didn't have scars across their abdomens, a reminder of those moments I had yearned for and missed out on. 

It didn't matter that God had prepared my heart. I wanted normal. I forgot for a minute that my son was a miracle that wasn't supposed to happen, and mourned the loss of my textbook delivery that I knew wasn't to be.

When I was pregnant with Evie, even though our doctor said I could be a good candidate for a VBAC (Vaginal Birth After C-Section), we decided that the blood pressure and induction process were too great a risk and that we would opt for the c-section again. 

I'm glad we did. My blood pressure spiked again, this time a week earlier at just about 38 weeks and with proteins indicative of early pre-eclampsia. One week and one day before our scheduled surgery date, we found ourselves scrambling to get a place for Will and mentally prepare ourselves for the arrival of our daughter a bit sooner than we thought. There as no deliberating about whether or not we should induce; because I had already chosen surgery - surgery was the answer.

It was as my doctor and I made the decision for Evie to come early that I finally found the peace from the guilt and sadness I had been carrying with me from Will's delivery. In that OR as Evie was delivered, I wasn't scared anymore and I wasn't upset as I heard her cries, watched her get cleaned and wrapped, and that first awkward hold with those bright eyes was my beautiful moment instead of a guilt-filled one.

Welcoming baby Evangeline to the world... chubby cheeks and all!

This was to be my story. God had prepared my heart for it, and it's OK that this is my story. 

My children were born healthy. I survived the deliveries. I am not convinced that would have been the story of my first pregnancy if it had played out "naturally". 

My friend that wrote her post acknowledging C-Section Awareness month and sharing her story noted that c-section mommas are - among other things she said - brave. 

Brave. 

I never really thought of it that way. But I guess it's true. Brave people look at a situation that could be full of fear and they conquer it. 

When I think back to that first surgery with Will, lying in the OR... I can tell you that the last thing I felt in those moments was bravery and courage. I didn't feel strong. I felt exhausted, I felt scared.

My husband was the brave one that day. He found himself in an OR with his wife on the table praying that his unborn son would be okay and healthy after 8-10 hours of his heart rate not recovering properly. He had to hold himself together while I had my eyes closed just praying that God let my son be OK and trying not to lose my mind. 

He was the brave one. 

I had no courage. I had to have God give it to me. And He did. But it wasn't mine, it was His courage and bravery I had that first delivery. 

With Evie, I was much more confident. I was much more "Let's conquer this thing, bad blood pressure will not win!" and determined. I wasn't scared that day. That day I could argue I was brave. 

"Be strong and courageous, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go."

Will meeting his baby sister for the first time. 

It's the 27th of the month and it's taken me this long to be able to write this post. There are so many emotions that come up when I think through the births of my children, as is the case with so many moms out there. Everything I've read about the reasons for this month existing is to bring awareness to the rising rates and how we can avoid them and head towards a target c-section rate... and I think that looking at it in such a sterile way bypasses the hearts of the women who have had c-sections and are thankful for the surgery.

I am grateful for the doctors and their expertise and judgment. While they never said that we were in a life-threatening situation, I know it wasn't an ideal one and I know other moms who most certainly WERE in life-threatening situations that they - and their babies - would not have made it without having emergency c-sections.

I would say that I am sufficiently aware, and I hope that most other people are too. I am glad there is a time to highlight this though, and I hope that others feel the freedom that I now feel almost 3 years after the birth of my son.

My scar is no longer something that I look at with sadness or guilt. When I see my scar now, I see the pathway my beautiful children took to get into this world. I see the wisdom and skill of doctors who think of the best interest of women and babies day in and day out.

I see the bravery of my husband, I see the growth of bravery in myself.

I see our family.

I see love.

I see God.

Our little family - January 2015

So He's "In Computers", Eh?

There was a point in my early 20's when I realized that I would be marrying a geek. Or a nerd. Or a dork. Or all three. It doesn't matter what terminology you use, I was going to be marrying someone with an engineering-type mind that focused on technology. The better part of my close friends were male, they were into some sort of information technology be it customer-facing or programming, they played video games. I was going to end up marrying someone like this, and I was totally OK with that.

13 years ago this fall, I started hanging out with Steve regularly and the rest is history. As it turns out, he does indeed have a career in Information Technology and enjoys playing the occasional video game. Go figure.

Our wedding day - June 2007

What I have noticed over the years is that it seems like being in Information Technology is what he gets defined as, and I've noticed this is the case for other people who are in the IT field as well. I can't speak for everyone who has the pleasure of working in this often thankless field, but Steve is so. much. more. than. that.

Yes, I just used periods in between the words of that sentence. I did it to emphasize the point. Did it work? I hope so.

As a nerdwife who often finds herself inwardly rolling her eyes at the pigeon hole that her husband has found himself in, I thought I would share with you the...

Top 5 Things People Say/Assume to Steve/to Me About Steve That Drive Me Crazy

(But I would never draw attention to in the conversation because it's just too much to explain without making me sound like a crazy person or offending the one saying/assuming it.)

- Saying that he's "in computers". I cannot tell you how many times when people ask Steve what he does for a living, their response is "Oh, so you're in computers!". While I suppose that this is very true, the world of technology is much bigger than the laptops you get at Best Buy, the Geek Squad, or even the IT help desk department at your place of business. There's a lot to the world of Information Technology that a lot of us don't ever see. My husband is the Director of Platforms and Systems Engineering at a local university. He oversees all sorts of cool projects and things from virtual desktops to email systems to mobile device support to so much more that I am blissfully unaware of. If you ask him what he does, he probably won't give you a fully technological answer. He views what he does as a customer service - providing a service to the students, staff, and faculty at the school he works at. Saying that Steve (or any other IT professional really) is "in computers" is like telling Thomas Keller he's "in food"; it doesn't paint a real picture of the work that he does. (And I'll give you that was a bit of an extreme analogy, but seriously, it's so much bigger than being "in computers".)

Not in computers here. Here he's in an airplane. 

- Assuming he loves (or knows about) ALL technology. Let me tell you: if I had a dollar for every time Steve has uttered the words "I hate computers", "I hate technology", "Why can't this work when it's supposed to just work", or any other technology-bashing phrase over the time that we've been together - our kids' college tuition would be paid for. At an ivy league school. With room and board. Including grad school. Don't get me wrong - there are lots and lots of things that Steve thinks are really cool and that he gets excited about. You should have seen the demonstration I got of the sweet, kick-ass new laptop he was testing out for work. But to assume that just because he gets excited about some technology that he's infatuated with all of it is just silly. Same goes for assuming that he knows all about it; believe it or not, our bathroom reading is not a stack full of "Wired" magazines and he doesn't spend his time following up on all the latest techie blogs. Which brings me to...

- Assuming that tinkering with computers is a "hobby". Steve hasn't bought a computer (desktop/laptop) for this house in about 4 years. While he is usually aware of what the latest & greatest things are in regards to computers, he's not spending his spare hours in a computer workshop in our basement upgrading his own box to the latest gadgetry. Every so often, a new piece of technological equipment will appear that he is excited about - the latest was a home server that he'd been meaning to get since we got married almost 8 years ago. There are about a thousand things that Steve would rather be doing when he gets home from work other than delving into more technology after spending 8-10 hours of his day up to his eyebrows in it.

I will take this caption opportunity to brag that my husband is a 3 (or 4?) time vExpert.
Because he's super awesone.

- Assuming he can - or wants - to fix your computer. What I have learned is that once people know that you're in any sort of computer related field, they seem to think that you also know everything in the world needed to know to fix their computer or set up a network in their house or anything like that. While this is often the case, it doesn't mean that the geek in question wants to do it in their spare time. Reformatting a computer (which is often, as I've learned, the best way to "fix" a lot of the "problems" that people have with their computers) can be incredibly time consuming, and time is a valuable commodity. I know that when Steve's not at work, he'd much rather be spending time with the kids, with me, with our friends, catching up on reading, developing a professional skill or working on some project around the house that he has been meaning to get to.

As an addendum to this - I've also learned that often when a Computer Geek dishes out their advice on what you should do to improve your computer/network situation or avoid having problems again - people ignore the advice and do whatever they want anyways. Before Steve I dated another "computer geek" and many of my closest friends were in that "computer geek" category as well and it was always the same thing with all of them when they gave advice. What was interesting to me was that this advice isn't typically disregarded because of a differing opinion from another "expert" on the matter, but because the individual asking the question seems to think that they have a better answer. My daughter was born a week early because the very competent doctor with a medical background in obstetrics and expertise on the matter of birthing babies said that she had to come out. Going home would have put both me and her at risk of complications. I took his advice because he's got knowledge I don't have. The same goes for your friendly neighborhood computer geek - if you ask their advice, don't think you're smarter on the topic than he/she is. You're smarter than them on something else that they might want your help with someday too, and you'll want that expertise to be respected.

Also he's a Patriots fan... we need an updated one of these with all 4 trophies.

- Assuming he wants our kids to love/be immersed in technology. When I talk about my kids pounding on dead laptops pretending to be Daddy or playing on the iPad or something related to kids & technology, people will often make the comment that "Steve must be thrilled" or "Steve must be so proud" or "Wow! Headed for IT, just like Daddy!". These statements make me roll my eyes internally and think to myself "oh, if they only knew". Evie's "screentime" is a few random minutes here and there using a doodle program on the iPad. Will only gets 30-45 minutes per day of screen time inclusive of any iPad/computer and TV time. When we're home, our phones are usually in the kitchen, on the counter, away from the kids. We play with toys, we run around, we wrestle, we let them help cook, we do crafty things and color and play with play-dough. Steve actively rails against our kids getting immersed in technology and we both lean on the litany of studies that have been done that discuss how too much technology can harm a child's development. Let's not even get into the deterioration of our communities and closeness to each other as people as a result of the dependence we have as a culture on social media.

Here's my bottom line - Steve (and all other "Computer Geeks") is SO MUCH more than a technology-centered being.

He's an absolutely amazing father to our two kids. Their faces light up and they run to him when he gets home at the end of the day. He snuggles them, wrestles with them, prays with them, shows them new things, sneaks them treats, and tries his best to be present in their lives. Steve imagines and plays with them in ways I'm just not wired to do, and it's amazing to watch.

That time he brought Will to his first hockey game...

Steve is passionate about learning everything he can about everything he can. If something sparks his interest, he's researching it within minutes. He wonders about how things work or why people do things or how things came to be the way they are, and seeks to expand his knowledge every day. It's inspirational, and I love it about him.

He has a calling on his heart to help others get their finances in order and is a coordinator for Financial Peace University at our church. Steve recognizes that God has given us each resources to do good work for our families, communities, and the world with and wants to help others reach their highest potential with the resources they have been entrusted with. It's a wonderful thing that he is wired to do for our family and to help others as well.

To that end, he's an "armchair economist". If there is a hobby that he has, watching the economy and learning about how it works is probably it. He finds everything about how economies work incredibly fascinating, and I love listening to him talk about it.

He's extremely competitive and gets creative within the rules of a game so that he can win. It's annoying at times, truthfully, but at the root of it is really a drive to achieve and a level of constant creativity that leads him to be an incredible problem solver.

Let's not discuss what he once did to a Nerf gun...

He's got an extremely analytical, engineering-focused mind. There are few things in this house that he's set out to fix or improve on that he hasn't done. When he tells me he's going to cut a hole in the wall, I don't even flinch because he repairs it so seamlessly you'd never know there was anything missing. He's a perfectionist and a precisionist, and it shows in everything he does.

Steve is an amazing guy, and if you take the time to get to know your local neighborhood computer geek a little bit deeper you'll probably find out that they're pretty awesome too.