cat's in the cradle...

So he's almost here. February 22nd and he'll be here. I can't wait. I have all these daydreams of showing him how to field grounders, catch flyballs, throw a knuckler, how to putt and chip (I should learn those myself...) and of course, talking to him about my mission.

When I was growing up, I just always knew that serving a mission was something I wanted to do. It never felt like a duty, and it certainly never felt like something I had to do. My dad, despite having a generally positive experience when he was a missionary, never felt like pushing any of me or my brothers into it because he felt like that would be counterproductive. Sure enough, I know I served with a few guys who weren't out there for the right reasons.

I really felt like my mission was worth it. I don't mean that in the "it sucked but it built character and was good for me" kind of way. I'm being genuine. There is very little to the experience that I regret and none of those things were incidental to being a missionary but rather my own shortcomings. There was no one person I did not love. There was no one place I did not call home - truly home. This is all to say nothing of the way I developed my relationship and testimony of the Savior. I know it sounds corny, but often I would just sit back and reflect on the fact that everyone that was around me was a child of God. He knew them: their names, their families, their jobs, their fears, their hopes, their dreams, their concerns, their emotions, their desires... He knew them. It was a healthy dose of perspective to realize that the Lord knew and loved them as much as He knew and loved me.

Clearly, I wish for my son to have the same desires and the same experiences. In fact, I'm convinced that it's the desires and state of one's heart that allows one to have one experience over another. I just want my son to want to go. If I say he has to, then is he going to be one of those kids that wants to do the opposite? (And speaking of such, it's not like saying "I *don't* want you to eat your vegetables! I forbid it!!!" makes them want to eat those vegetables anymore... Why is that? The whole "I do the opposite of what you say" thing only applies to what they want.) I don't want to force him, and I don't want him to go out of obligation. And yet, the Savior recoiled at drinking the bitter cup but did it because He knew it was His spiritual duty.

Here's what I will do: Fondly speak of my mission and speak of it often. I want him to know that I desire him to go, but that he should only go if he feels he should.

And if he doesn't, he's out of the family.

huh.

I'm going to be a father.

Last Tuesday, we went and saw Mrs. Sixline's doctor. After a few forms and a little bit of waiting in the brand new Mother's wing of the local hospital, we were admitted back. Before we knew it, some gel had been sprayed on Mrs. Sixline's tummy and a black and white real-time image of my child was on the screen. I'm the proud parent of a lima bean. Of course, in the past week I'm sure it's a little bigger now. But at 9 weeks, the baby's rapid heartbeat was audible and the outline was visible. Its little nubby arms and legs were flailing about. Of course, I use the words 'arms' and 'legs,' but they were really just small appendages without joints or digits.

Now, I suspect you're wondering about how I felt in all this. And I don't really know how. Just typing this up feels so mechanical. Any description of feeling feels contrived and shallow. I've started and stopped this post more than a few times. I even tried removing the expressions I'm prone to use in an effort to sound more genuine. To checklist the emotions, yes, I am excited. Yes, I am looking forward to being a father. I suppose it doesn't feel real-- though it did feel real enough after the ultrasound.

But part of me hasn't let go of the bitterness that comes with infertility. Several of my very good friends are still waiting to be expecting, and with one case, the odds are very much stacked against them. I don't want to feel excited. I don't want to bounce off the walls. I just want to be content and I am quietly eager to be a father.

And there's also this nagging feeling that people don't appreciate it when you glory in your successes, but I'm not writing this to seek permission to be happy, so don't say "Well gosh, of course you're allowed to be happy." That will earn you a punch in the nose.

February 22, or thereabouts, and barring any unforeseen difficulties, we should be welcoming a child into the world.

through other peoples' eyes

My little brother got married over the weekend. I have to admit, in the course of 18 months the kid moved out of mom's basement, got a job that didn't involve spatulas in some way, moved into his own apartment-- not with any loser friends, found a girl, got her a ring, and married her.

My little brother, the kid who has a difficult time separating himself from his environment, finally did the smart thing and changed his environment. I know that we are all, more or less, a product of our surroundings. I think that his choice to remove himself from a bad circle of friends was the most mature thing he's ever done. Well, until he got married of course.

I'm proud of him.

new niece

My niece was born! :D This is a late post, I know, but I never really knew if my sister and her husband were cool with me posting until now. This is the website they decided to host instead of sending attachments everywhere.

Joylyn Eve Meyer

Hitting home

Mrs. Sixline and I rarely visit my family. My older brother is in the Air Force, currently stationed at Holloman AFB in Alamogordo, New Mexico. My little sister lives with her husband in Provo, where my little brother is staying until he moves into his apartment in the next month (Provo as well.) My parents and my eldest sister live in West Bountiful, however my dad works for the government checking baggage at airports and hence travels everywhere in the US.

This past weekend as a rare time when all of us could congregate in one city for an extended period of time. My older brother's wife, sadly, couldn't come up from New Mexico. We missed her, but it was fun all the same.

I know we're not as social as I'd like to be, and this has its ups and downs. When we are together, we don't fight or have episodes between us. We never see each other; why would we waste the few moments we have with fighting?

On the other hand, my wife's family is very close, and every one of them live in a 25 mile radius. As such, not only do they see more of each other, but I think it causes a bit of tension and your average family drama episodes pop up more often than with us.

I can't tell which way I want it. I like the closeness of my wife's side of the family, and I like the space my side of the family has. I just wish there were more good moments like this weekend to share.

I wanna be rich.

All right, I'll admit it... I wanna be rich.

This is entirely motivated by a drive to be taken care of. My father was a blue-collar working stiff his entire life, and no one recognized his talents because he didn't have money. He couldn't get money because he was a blue-collar working stiff. He was in quite the catch-22, and were it not for obedience to the sacred law of tithing, I feel compelled to admit that life would have been much harder for us growing up. He took care of us, but I know he wanted to do better as far as temporal things go.

It's not like we ran around barefoot collecting cans for money. I wasn't hungry or cold, but I could tell we didn't have much. We didn't have a lot of presents under the tree. We also didn't have the nicest things. I know that my parents wanted to give us these things, but just could not. I don't blame them, not one bit. I'm glad they underlined the lesson that if you don't have the money for something, DON'T BUY IT.

Now the list of things I learned from struggling, and the list of blessings that came from it are a topic for a post of another day. I don't want to buy my children the latest and greatest of everything, but I want to have enough money that taking a child to the dentist doesn't worry me and keep me up all night. I want to be able to laugh that my stupid 16 year old got his first speeding ticket-- not worry that I can't pay for it. I don't want to have my wife sew clothing for them instead of getting new school clothes. I don't want to worry that my car might not get me to work in the morning.

I want to make sure we're safe. (And I want a freaking HUGE fish tank, but first things first, right?)

thicker than water

We always do the worst to those we love. I don't think this is intentional. I think it's a by-product of that closeness. A nobody on the street can stab me in my weakest spots and I'd be fine because I can always tell myself 'What does he know?' But the close ones know you. They're very aware of your weakness.

I've been really unfair to my little brother. I think about this a lot. I feel like I failed him. He's a few years younger than me, both of us in our early 20s, and I thought that I could help him out one summer by taking him to do a door-to-door sales bit. I thought I could teach him some of my tricks, help him establish confidence, work experience, and the character building that comes from working hard. But it was harder than I thought... He didn't get along with the guys in the office. They thought he was weird, in a looking down your nose sort of way. No one wanted to work with him.

I'll admit, my brother's got his weirdness (I think our whole family does...) but he's a good kid. He just hasn't ever been in a non-sheltered environment away from family. No roommates, no college, no mission, nothing. Always been at home. He tries to be funny and sometimes misses (remind you of anyone you know?) so he put himself out there and it just didn't fly. And I didn't stick up for him. I was especially bad about bashing him with another guy because I wanted the other guy to like me. I didn't want to work with my little brother-- I wanted to work with the successful guys. I was stupid. I was wrong. I feel horrible about it, but I don't want to hurt my little brother by telling him what happened. I just wished I would have stood up for him, something I'm resolved to do now. I wish I didn't see him as an embarrassment.

Not only did I fail him in that respect, but since summer sales was a Failure for me(note the capital 'F'), it was doubly so for him. I had no confidence in him, so I couldn't teach him that. He didn't make any money, so that was a failure. He went home early, which is a major no-no in summer sales... Man. If I would have just carried him like I meant to, I think he'd have done better. I'm ashamed of what I did, and I hate that.

The Talk

I had the beginnings of 'The Talk' with the in-laws. My mother and father in law really are good people. Our familial cultures clash at times, but, to be fair, they are loving people who want to have a healthy relationship with me. I think all the bad PR I give my in-laws really stems from only two or three individuals. Not really fair to judge the rest of them based on that.

I basically told them that it feels like I'm always the bad guy. I have a tendency to say 'rude' things (The 'R' word... now that's a post for another day...) and they have a tendency to be upset at rude things. Put two and two together and wham-o. Of course, a lot of this happens after the fact. I say something, or react a certain way, and I find out much later, often a day or so later, that I upset someone. Usually the informant is my wife, so some of the feelings are lost in translation to begin with. This is no fault of Mrs. Sixline, this just plain happens. Plus she normally catches the upset individual two seconds after the fact, and after a little perspective is added, the upset indivdual isn't nearly as upset as they once were.

Anyway.

It was conceded that I will be me. Granted, I won't try to upset anyone, but if I do, then we just all need to get over it. I'm curious to see how this rolls out. I'm not going to spend any more time bashing them, something I shouldn't do regardless, and I'm just not gonna be upset if I piss someone off. This is going to take a lot of patience on my part, because contrary to their belief, it will happen, and I'm going to need to have the attitude of 'Well... I'm me. Get over it.' (Unless of course I actually merit blame for the offense, in which case I'll own up and apologize.)

Don't like it? Get over it.

Oh, and Happy Veteran's Day. Kings among men.