Another heart attack and 12th anniversary celebration via Facetime.

Hi everyone,

As you’ve probably noticed, I’ve been almost completely absent from my online spaces these past couple of weeks. The truth is, I’m exhausted, and keeping up with the blog has had to take a back seat—there’s just been too much going on.

On September 16th, my dad had a second heart attack. It happened to coincide with my older sister Jenn’s mother-in-law beginning chemotherapy in Dallas, so my mom and younger sister Jess were wrangling all the nieces and nephews when my dad basically dropped to the floor in the middle of telling my mom about his day. My mom is the calmest woman I’ve ever known—especially compared to the three emotional banshees she gave birth to—so when I heard genuine fear in her voice on the phone from the hospital, I knew I needed to be on a plane the next day. Ashley and I have been in Texas ever since.

Thankfully, my older kids are on a three-week fall break, so they’ve been here with me since last week. If all goes well, we’ll plan on heading home October 13th so they can get back to school.

I always feel a little guilty writing these updates, because I know how blessed I am. I have such a strong care team for the kids that I can drop everything and fly out to help my family. We’re fortunate we can afford it—or at least use the copious airline miles Bubs has earned from business travel. My dad has excellent supplemental insurance through his and Bubs’ company, which has made his care so much better. And I have a husband who, when I tell him I need to go—even if it ruins our anniversary plans—just says, “Go. I’ll figure it out.” All while he’s juggling one of his company’s biggest customers during a major product launch, keeping up with his military duties, and trying to sell his business (more on that in a minute).

One thing I didn’t realize about heart attacks is how likely another is in the days and weeks after the first. I’d have to sit down with a calendar, but my dad’s second—and much more serious—heart attack happened almost exactly a month after his first. The first was, “Janet, I don’t feel so good.” The second was, “Janet, I can’t remember what we did this morning?”—and then he collapsed. Paramedics had to scoop him up. It’s terrifying. I was so confident in my first blog post that he’d be okay, and I’ll say it again now: he will be. But it’s going to take serious medical and home intervention to keep him that way.

Still, even in the bad, there’s good. I’m home. I’m sleeping in the house Bubs and I still own in Texas—the one his grandparents lived in, which Addie now rents. (I’m tucked in the guest room, which she has immaculately decorated.) I get to be with her during her first pregnancy. My kids are with their cousins—TJ and his sworn rival, Laney (Jenn’s youngest, born just weeks apart from him), have only tried to kill each other a handful of times. I get to be with my mom and, for once, play the adult who reassures her that things will be okay. I get to drive kids to school and run into old classmates of mine in the drop-off line, all shocked at how lively Ashley is and how thick her red hair already is. Our life in Arizona isn’t bad, but if Bubs were here with us, it would feel like heaven.

This past weekend was our 12th wedding anniversary. Bubs had planned two celebrations—one with the kids, where Evie was going to teach them to make my favorite, green chile rellenos (messy, chaotic, and fun). The second was just for us: an air mattress in the back of his truck, stargazing in the desert like when we were teenagers. Neither plan requires a calendar date, so they’re still waiting for us. Instead, our “official” celebration was eating Whataburger takeout together on FaceTime—him from the new one near our house in Arizona, me from the one here where I’ve eaten dozens, if not hundreds, of times. It was sweet in its own way, especially when I had to stop mid-bite to yell, “James Travis!" Tj's full name reserved only for when he’s a true menace—“if you don’t stop teasing those girls, I’m going to applaud when they beat the shit out of you!” Of course, the message was lost because he just cracked up that I said “shit.” Bubs chuckled too, because he knew I’d lost the battle and practically guaranteed TJ would get dogpiled by his sister and cousins. And he was right.

As for the business—my dad’s latest heart attack made it clear that the pressure of running it had to end. As I mentioned last time, the engineer they hired last fall, Daniel, had made an informal offer to buy the company if he could get financing. The bank dragged its feet, so my dad and Bubs began working with a national broker. The stress of potentially losing something my dad created—watching it get broken apart and moved, while paying insane broker fees—probably contributed to his heart attack. It weighed heavily on Bubs too.

Meanwhile, Daniel worked hard to convince some of his family that the company was a worthy investment. I don’t fully understand all the details, but he was able to pull together enough cash that my dad and Bubs are financing the rest through company equity as loans. Bubs admitted there are risks and that we may not get the full value in the long run. In the moment, I told him he could give it away for all I cared—something that reflected how I truly felt, but wasn’t the kindest thing to say given how hard he’s worked. Still, I know he’s happy it will stay local and that 8 or 9 employees won’t lose their jobs. He’s a good man, that Bubs.

So yeah—that’s where we are. Blessed beyond measure, but still facing some scary and uncertain things.