Sorry Ladies, He's Taken!

Our baby Noah is one week old today, and I can hardly believe how fast it has gone! Our life has been turned completely upside-down as we are learning the ins and outs of parenting to this new little person that we brought into the world. Sleepless nights, continuous migraines, and new-parent anxiety have worn us out, but brought us so much closer as a family.

This last week has given me an entirely new perspective on the man that I married. I have found so much respect, love, appreciation, admiration, and awe for all he does for me, and for Noah. Kelly would stop at nothing to protect and provide for us! Throughout my pregnancy, Kelly went to EVERY prenatal appointment. He rearranged his schedule because it meant that much to him. Noah has had jaundice, and already been to the pediatrian 3 times this past week, and despite being busy with work, he has been to them all...(He even came to the circumcision appointment! I think Kelly was in more pain as a spectator than Noah was!) Noah has also had a very hard time eating, and Kelly has woken up with us at night to help Noah with his "midnight munchies".
I have loved watching Kelly transform from an exceptional husband, to an exceptional dad as well. I love watching him hold his son, sing to him, and cuddle. I praise God for such a wonderful husband, and am so grateful that Noah has such a great daddy. Thank you Kelly, for loving us so much!

funny looks 2

Round two. Nipple shields this time, Target again though, same odd looks and even a little more awkward than the first trip. Different Target however, so that's good. Glad I don't live in a small town anymore, can you imagine the speculation? Welcome to being a Daddy!

funny looks

You know that look, the one where you're in the store shopping - say, like a Target somewhere, like at the District in South Jordan - and you're minding own business in the baby section, but everyone is pulling that 180 degree head turn to see what in the world your doing.

You know what I am talking about, right? The one eyebrow raised like it thinks the eyeball stinks really bad or something. The other one scrunched down like its no longer wants to reside anywhere hear the forehead. The eyes focused in, pupils widening to make sure sufficient light is drawn in, as those same eyes try to look away in decency and respect, but can't due to the sheer oddity and absurdness of what they are seeing. Are ya with me on this? Do you know the look I am talking about? 

Well, just for the record if any of you men out there expect to one day visit a Target to purchase the much needed breast pump for your wife and baby - take them with you, it looks a little odd to be a lone male standing inquisitively in the bottle and breast pump aisle inspecting each brand and type of pump with utmost precision and accuracy to ensure the most efficient product is purchased. Its okay with video games, its expected. Its okay with cars, its needed. It is not okay with breast pumps, apparently... its a little weird.

Noah Lukas Johnson

Entering the world at 12:08pm on March 3, 2009 weighing at a whopping 9 lbs. and 14 ounces and measuring 23 inches: Noah Lukas Johnson! 26 hours total hours of labor, 41 weeks of pregnancy - I guess he was well done! Little man didn't want to come out, but Momma powered through it and did incredibly! I am so impressed and proud of my wifey and Noah's Mommy - not to mention I am pretty convinced she has eternal exclusive bragging rights the the "10" score on the 1-10 pain scale. I am never touching that one!

Here are some photos of the new little guy. He is incredibly cute, and yes... I am biased, so not only is he cute, he is the cutest little man ever! And so now its time to rest for momma and me it has been a long time since sleep, and since we know it only gets more limited from here - we are both going to grab some nap time while we can. Thanks for all your prayers and love!

still counting...

No Noah yet. At least not outside of his cozy, comfy little mommy sized home. We have a nursery for him all ready to go, however Noah prefers Mommy to the cold February weather. Maybe March will be more to his liking, or so we anxiously hope. The closing months seem to be a little rougher with the wicked crazy (and slightly evil) back pain and cramps. We keep thinking our little boy is going to come out and play an moment, but he doesn't, and so we wait. And wait. We don't want to wait. We are excited to see the little fella. He'll get here when he's good an ready I suppose.

It's an early lesson in parenting, as Shelli brought up, learning that we are not the ones to control our son. Help him grow and learn certainly; but we don't make his decisions for him, we can only help and teach. I pray we'll be good at that... that we'll be patient and loving. I know Mommy will be. She already is so much and more, how much more so with little Noah. She is such an amazing mother kind, patient, loving; so excited and enthusiastic. I love my wife's glow, even despite the uncomfortableness there is just such an aura of excitement and anticipation about her. She is amazingly beautiful.

So I suppose I pray that I will be patient and loving. I mean, I know I will love him, without a doubt; but I hope I am loving or that I show him that. I hope that I can be an example to my son. I hope that he can learn from my strengths and weaknesses and be a much better man than I was or am. I know he can be, but its his choice, all I can do is help... teach... love.

I am so excited beyond measure for his arrival. It's like when you were 8 years old and you first got the glimpse of all the Christmas presents under the tree. You ran down and scoped out the packages that had your name inscribed on their little festive tags. You wanted to tear them open in that moment, but you couldn't. It was still days until Christmas. So every day until Christmas morning you had to wait. Seeing those presents stacked there calling your name each day. Its kind of like that, only with a whole lot more excitement and we have know idea what day we get to open our little present. Oh, and Noah's not Christmas present, he's our son, that's a pretty substantial difference too.

Point is, I am excited. Excited to meet my son. Excited to hold him in my arms. Excited to see him grow, and play, and discover. Excited to be a Daddy. Whether today, tomorrow or whenever... I am excited.

Finishing Touches...

Thanks to Grandpa Gary for the amazing work on the frames.

My creative and crafty wife made the "NOAH" letters, aren't they amazing?

A 9 Month Wrap-Up

Only a few more days left of sharing a body with my little one, and Kelly and I are getting more and more excited....and nervous to meet the little guy! Calling the last 9 months an "adventure" would be a gigantic understatement. It has been so challenging, yet so amazingly wonderful. It's one of the only times in my life that I will get excited about having an expanding waistline! I am in such awe at this amazing act of growing a little human being inside of me, and sharing literally everything with him! I've gotten a small taste of his temperament and personality, and despite the downs of pregnancy, the ups have been extraordinary!

We found out that we were expecting on our one year anniversary, and I don't think we actually believed those 3 pee-sticks, 2 blood tests, and ultrasound until about 2 months later!

I have perfected my sprint to the toilet in a desperate attempt to spare the carpet, and learned to eat things that I can manage the taste coming UP, as well as going down. I have also taken on a new look, sporting my hot new "cankles". (For those who are unaware of this phenomenon: The official definition, "1. having no defined ankle so that it appears that the calves are directly joined to the feet. 2. Fat ankles.")....yes, they are as sexy as they sound!

The migraines have been furious and have come with a vengeance. They truly have been out of control, and Kelly has been the most amazing in helping me manage the pain, nausea, and frustration of dealing with them. I praise God for a husband who has had so much compassion and love for me! I know that watching me deal with chronic pain is just as hard on him as it is on me. Thank you Kell. We have been to Labor and Delivery 3 times already this year to seek relief for my dreadful headaches, and needless to say, I'm pretty sure we're ready and well-acquainted with how to find our way around the maternity ward! (Kelly knows exactly where the snacks, drinks, and blanket warmers are!....he's willing to give tours if anyone's interested!)

Despite all of the woes of pregnancy, feeling and watching my belly roll around has brought so much joy to both Kelly and myself. Noah can knock an open book straight off of my belly with one fierce kick, and an "ouch" from me!

So...as I finish up with the last few days of pregnancy, I praise God for keeping me and Noah healthy for these past 9 months, for a husband who has comforted me, held my hair while I hovered over the toilet, and most importantly loved me unconditionally, for a family that have done SO much for us by pouring out wisdom, love, and endless gifts for the arrival of our son, and for friends who have joined with us in our excitement and the journey we are about to embark on. I couldn't have asked for a more amazing network of people for my son to be born into!

Here's to a great 9 months, and an even greater lifetime for our little boy!

My talented dad took some last pics of my prego belly. The next pics will be of baby Noah himself! (Sorry, I have no intention of posting post-baby-belly pics! You're disappointed, I know!)

dear dad

Something in me couldn't hold this one back. Too much has gone on. So, here it is...

Dear Dad;

I write you now for so many reasons. Some I understand and some I don’t, regardless I write everything because I love you. Not only do I love you as much as any son could love his dad, I admire you so much. In many ways it may be because I am learning, albeit slowly, what it means to be a dad myself. The closer my own son comes to arriving the more and more I feel of what I can only imagine you have felt for years.

Years you spent as my Dad. Oh, how I loved those years. I know I didn’t always show it well, as a matter of fact, often I showed it poorly, but I really did love having you as my Dad. All those times you played basketball with me in the yard. Not on a basketball court, mind you, but that rocky desert terrain of dirt we called a court. The place I received my first and only bloody nose – from my Dad. The place I learned to dribble a basketball and shoot free throws. The place I learned that a basketball is not that hard to dribble when you have a flat surface. I cherish al those hours, the nights you would come home from work and I would time my basketball time just as you got home. “How about a game, Dad?” You would be so tired sometimes, but you’d still play. I can’t thank you enough; it meant the world to me.

All those times you helped me out, and let me pay you back by doing projects with you around the house and yard. I thought you were exploiting me sometimes; I came to learn you were spending time with me. Teaching me. Loving me. I learned to shingle a roof, re-roof a garage, change a transmission, change a clutch, change the oil, change a tire, frame a spare room, drywall, drive a tractor, among many, many other things. I learned the value of sacrificing and serving those you love. I learned so much.

Oh, and the cars. How I love the car stories. The Chevy? The Sprint? The Nova? The Pathfinder? The Metro? The other Nova? Sorry, Dad. I learned a lot though. Yes, I learned them the hard way, but I sure was glad you were always there for me. I can only pray to have a tenth of the patience and grace you gave me with my own son. I do have to say though; I like sharing the projects with you way more then the repairs. I look forward to finishing that Nova; I wish I were closer, so we had more time to do it together. I am glad we share that though.

I remember the sleep-overs when I was younger and how you would wrestle with me and my friends. How you would set up the tents outside. I remember how much fun I had wrestling with you in the living room. Sometimes I got out of control, what a little temper I had, but you had more patience than a monk. Good thing for me.
I used to have so much fun going to the mountains with you to get fire-wood. Learning to run the chainsaw, or how to chop up the wood. Betting double-or-nothing on whether or not you could chop the log in one swing. You could, about 95% of the time. Good thing you never held me to the rules, I’d still be paying you off. I had so much fun and learned so much. How I admired my Dad.

As of recent memories I can think of all the four-wheeler trips and geocaching. The crazy stuff we would find. I love your stories. Stories of growing up. Stories of when times were simpler, easier… harder and more complex. Stories of Alaska, stories of family. Stories of Moab and stories of mining. You have great stories, I hope I tell stories as well as you do. I won’t have as good of stories so I hope you don’t mind if I borrow a few of yours to tell my son. I will tell him about you all the time because I can only wish to have just a little bit of you in me. I hope with every breath I can be more like my Dad

I’ll never forget some advice you once gave me, simple advice, but good advice: “Don’t do anything stupid.” You told me as I got into my car off to party with some friends. I don’t know if you realized the impact of those words, but every time I forget to think and jump into some idiotic decision those words scroll through my brain. You have kept me from a lot of mistakes. You never stopped me from being able to choose, you never locked me down from making mistakes, but you taught me to learn from them. You let me grow; you let me become a man on the terms that they needed to happen. You gave me the advice I needed when I needed it – without controlling me.

I want you to know how much I love you, how much I look up to you and how grateful and blessed I am, that you are my Dad. It is because of you that I am able to be who I am today. The things you taught me, the strength you gave me, the love you showed me, the life you lived – all of it – is part of who I am, and I cannot thank you enough for everything. Words cannot express how much I love you and what an amazing Dad you have been to me. I love you Dad.

But I want you to know one more thing. Even more important than knowing how much I love you and look up to you, I want you to know how much God loves you, even more so than I love you or, as hard as it is to believe, you have loved me. I believe this with everything in me. My life exists to share this with everyone else, how much more importantly my own Dad. One thing you taught me above all these stories and lessons, is that who you are, who God created you to be (especially in my own life) has shown me more than any other single person or thing what God’s love is like and how much he loves me, and you. Why he would give his son to die for us, simply so that he could be with us.

I know this is where my letter bridges into the far-fetched, possibly the unbelievable, but I want you to know this more than anything else, Dad. This life, the one we live today, is the beginning, not the end. There is more – I sincerely believe that with everything in me. Its not far-fetched, its not unbelievable, I spend my days, my career, teaching these truths to junior high and high school students for a reason: because it is real and it does matter… more than anything in this world. I have seen God change my life, change these kids’ lives; I want you to know that in your life.

I want you to know my God, Dad. To know how much he loves you, to know that his son died on a cross for you. I want you to know that with everything in me I believe this. I can only pray that I live it out too, more than just telling you. That I live it out for my son, the way you, likely unknowingly, lived it out in so many ways for me for me. A Father’s love was such a wonderful example of how God loves us.
Dad, you showed me through your own life a glimpse of God’s love; through you, God revealed himself to me, in my life. You have been an inspiring example of love, patience, tenderness, grace, mercy, strength, sacrifice and friendship. I don’t know what you think, nor what you believe, so that’s why I say these things, because they mean so much to me – more importantly, because you mean so much to me.

Thank you Dad, for being such and amazing father and friend. For teaching me so much, for being such a great example, for loving me when I know I was so difficult to love sometimes… for believing in me. For playing with me, wrestling with me, and laughing with me, for being patient with me and for forgiving me even when I least deserved it. Thank you for loving my Mom, she means the world to me too, and I know you mean more than the world to her.

I hope, I pray that I have just an ounce of you in me. If I can just share that much of you with my son, he’ll turn out ok. I pray I can be as close to as good of a father to Noah as you are to me; to be so understanding, to be so patient, to be so loving, so sacrificing, so… good.

I admire you more than anyone Dad, I look up to you as a standard of something to I strive to be, but most of all – I love you Dad – don’t ever forget that.

Thank you,

Your Son

happy birthday

24 years ago today my lovely wife entered this world, and as such my life, making this one of my most favorite days of the year. I have been celebrating this day every year with lovely wife for 5 years now. So happy birthday Shelli! You are my everything. Thank you for being the most amazing, loving, understanding, supportive, compassionate, indescribably wonderful wife ever! I in no way deserve someone as beautiful and special as you, but don't think that for a second I don't thank God for how grateful I am for you. Words just aren't good enough.

So from the little Kangaroo growing inside, to the little crazy puppy chewing up the house, and from the extremely handsome husband (hey! don't laugh), we love you - our amazing mom, wife and friend. Happy Birthday! 

I love you!!

maiming of a Christmas penguin

Sam, our adorable little wood chipper disguised as a dog. The peeing and the poo-splosions have ceased, but the gnawing, chewing and shredding of our happy little home continues. Sam has managed to chew up door handles, baseboards, blankets, and just about anything within range of those little chompers. This led to a theory – give him something to chew on and he’ll be too occupied for anything else, right? Ahem, no. See I bought Sammy an over-sized tennis ball not to long ago. It was a holiday deal at Petsmart and I thought it’d be a nice treat. Turns out, it was more of a treat than I had originally anticipated. I arrived home at 3pm. Played with Sam for about 45 minutes. Resumed my holiday baking, and by 6pm when Shelli arrived home, Sam had about 1/3 of a Tennis ball remaining intact. 3 hours – dead ball. Poor ball never stood a chance.

This entire story thus far is merely a preface of the main point. See for Christmas Sam received a cute little Penguin from Grandma Pam and Grandpa Gary who periodically, and thankfully, watch our little raging puppy from time to time. I have posted two photos: the first document the little penguin in his original, pristine state on Christmas Eve. The second, documenting the result of one night with Sam. The unfortunate little penguin was able to walk… errr… roll away with only the loss of his limbs, a much better fate than the tennis ball.

Christmas Eve...

the Aftermath...

the puzzle

So every year a little voice in the back of my mind creeps in to convince me of how much fun a puzzle would be. This epiphany usually makes its presence known right around Thanksgiving and carries itself to an excruciating fruition right about the New Year. This fun little bout with insanity usually costs me a couple sleepless nights and countless uninspired hours of staring blankly at a table full of random pieces glaring back at my frustration with their own uppity contempt.

A delightful not-so-little 864 square inches of 2,000 microscopic evil amorphous puzzle pieces met their match just a few days ago. Of course, the question must be asked, who met whose match? Considering somewhere near 35 days of puzzle war before the victor was crowned. A victory nonetheless.

I am proud to say the battle is over, the war is one, and the wife is much happier without the Van Gogh inspired monster hogging the dinner table.