Father Knows Best

There's something about Jamie most people don't know.  He has no clue who his father is.  Well, he has a CLUE, but not a good lead.  He was raised thinking this one man was his father and after two DNA tests it turns out...nope, not him.  There was one other guy his mom said it might be and we contacted him sometime back and after the initial momentum, the dude dropped the ball and we didn't pick it back up for him.  He wasn't really someone we wanted to be a big part of our life anyways, all things considered, but still...it has to be weird not knowing exactly who your dad is.

Jamie's main role model was his grandfather, who I hear was a pretty excellent guy. I never got a chance to know him. He passed away when I was two months shy of bringing Kyle into the world.  I know there are parts about him that show through in Jamie, but we still both wonder about his real dad.  I mean, especially when it comes to things like medical history.  Some guy out there has 7 grandkids and a really amazing man for a son, and he has nothing to do with him.  This just blows my mind on a regular basis.

But what amazes me even more is despite this glaring hole in Jamie's life, he is the most amazing father.  Balanced, fair, loving, inspiring, always on the lookout for ways to bless his wife and his children, compelling us to be better people.  His role is a hard one and he does it with amazing grace.  He has taken this role seriously and every now and then he calls me to the mat. I never love it, but I love him for it.

Yesterday was one such day and I just got one word for y'all: OUCH!!  He called me out big time and in doing so, called himself out and we had to deal with the fact that there is something we are screwing up.  I got really mad at the kids yesterday over something kind of lame.  They lost something I needed and this happens on a regular basis.  I get so offended, thinking they could at least TRY to consider me.  You know, the martyr thing.  Being upset about this thing wasn't the problem..my reaction was.  I apologized to everyone before I left, but still, Jamie noticed something and so he wrote me this big thing.  I was afraid to read it, so he paraphrased it and I was left feeling like...wow...you know what I mean?  He's right.

I could do the same thing I asked and paraphrase the whole thing, but I'll let his words speak for themselves.  I am humbled.

This morning you had promised something to someone that you do not know.  I understand that you were trying to bless someone with our excess.  You have a heart of giving, and that is a beautiful thing.  However, something went awry and some of the other parts that you had promised could not be found.  I understand that this embarrassed you.  It would do the same to me.  But the way that you responded was not appropriate.  You were very angry and dissatisfied with your family.  I wish that you would have stopped and looked at their faces.  Calla looked as if she could cry when she was outside looking.  You tore down your family and cut strings trying to serve someone else who is not part of this family.  You allowed your embarrassment to manifest as anger toward your family. 

This is a frequently occurring thing.  On many occasions you have something go missing and tend to think that the kids are out to get you.  Believe me, I know it is frustrating.  The boys take off with my tools (mainly Elijah) all of the time.  So what happens if I get angry and vent my frustration on them?  They will finally leave them alone.  And yes, I am guilty of that one.  Is that the outcome that I want?  Do I really want Eli to leave my tools alone?  If he didn't ever try to use them to create anything, I could probably always find them.  Is it so important to me to be able find things when I need them to stifle his development?  I don’t think that it is.

Think about the things that go missing for you or just messed with.  Knitting needles, crochet needles, makeup, pens, notebooks.  I am sure there are plenty other things that come to mind right now.  And I know that we have “lame brain” kids that leave things here and there and don’t pay attention.  Why do they mess with your things?  It is because they want to be like you.  Think about Eli building shit and playing the banjo.

 I would like to call to attention what the kitchen or your bedroom looks like when you are “creating” something.  A new dish or desert will leave things all over the place in the kitchen.  When sewing, there are scraps of fabric and needles all over the place.  When knitting or tearing apart a sweater little wisps of yarn abound.  Why is that?  Because you are in the moment and focused on creating something.  The thought on your mind is “I wonder what this will taste like or look like”.  And you can’t wait to share it with someone else and be proud of your creation.  I will do a similar thing when I am working on the house or something in the garage.  I am not thinking about the clean up or organization of things, I am thinking about what I have created.  Then, afterwards we have the responsibility developed in us to take action to remedy the situation.  The kids are not quite there yet, but when something does go missing it is an opportunity to develop them. 

Maybe the little bag of bottle parts got thrown into the trash.  I am sure they were probably on the floor.  With kids trying to clean up, they probably grabbed them with another pile of something and didn't even notice they were throwing away something of value.  I am sure that they were focused on making Mom happy by cleaning the van.  Also, I bet that kids look at donate stuff like trash.  It is something that they see as going away as if it is not important to us.  So why does it matter if it gets thrown away?  We don’t need it, right? 

The anger and frustration that we show your family when things like this happens is wrong.  We should not let material things get in the way of building relationships in our family.  Let’s do a hypothetical situation.  Let’s say Eli was messing with my banjo and dropped it and it broke in two pieces.  Would it benefit anything if I threw a hellacious fit?  He would already feel miserable that he did something that let me down.  That would build his character and cause him to be much more careful.  If I am forgiving of him and not condemning I will maintain a good relationship with him.  Maybe even tie some strings.  If I yell and throw a fit, he may decide he wants nothing to do with banjos ever again, and feel guilt that may stay with him for a lifetime. 

So what if they lose or destroy things?  The following verse comes to mind.

Matthew 6:20 - But lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal:

Please take this to the cross with me Melissa.  I think that once we do, you will notice that this will no longer be a problem.   We need to take these opportunities that come as a chance to build their character, not tear it down.

He's right.  I am humbled.  Even after 15 years of doing this Mom gig, I'm still taking it to the cross.  Probably always will I suppose because I don't know where else I'd find such grace.  My frustrations might be based in righteousness but boy my reactions aren't.  To know better, is to do better, right??

If I'm the Apple, Where's My Tree??

It took me over thirty years to get to this place.  A place of remorse for not paying better attention.  Oh, I have memories, for sure....floaty, obscure memories, but they just don't quite get to answering questions I have and at this point it's almost too late.

My grandmother is well on her way to 90 years old, and we aren't particularly close.  That's just not how things are done in my family.  I know she loves me and I her, but we've never really had a connection like I eventually formed with my husband's grandmother.  Yet, I know somewhere, in some ways we are so alike and I wish I had noticed this long before now, before her frail body and mind become confused and not really able to have the talks I wish I could have with her.

And then there's my dad.  On a balmy Friday, a few hours before he was supposed to pick me up for the weekend, I was called home from a friend's house.  My mother and stepfather were sitting on the couch, serious faces...and I thought 'Oh  boy am I in trouble."  But I wasn't.  My father had suffered a fatal heart attack hours before and I wasn't to see him again.  I'm still not sure how I feel about that.  My father adored me and I have only good memories of him, however my older siblings have nothing but bad ones and so there's no one with whom I can talk to about what about me might be from him and that's been hard since becoming a mother.

Yet, I look at my own mother and know that all this crazy stuff about me had to come from somewhere other than her.  We are nothing alike.  She likes romance novels, I like non-fiction.  She isn't hands on with anything, I simply have to create.  I write, she does not.  Never did.  She likes numbers, I think they are devil's spawn.  I am frugal, she never used cash for anything that I can remember.  Simply put, I think I was adopted.  Or something.

Recently my mind has stumbled upon a memory that's so poignant yet so, well..... lame, and I've been mulling it over. And over.  I was sitting with in my grandmother's house, hosted for a few days for Christmas while Jamie was out to sea.  Kyle was a mere toddler and Calla was on her way.  My grandmother's living room looked differently than it had when I had  been there before, and she was explaining what she had done.  She first selected a floral couch that had a pink she loved, and then she found two Queen Anne chairs covered in a mauve silky looking fabric that complemented it nicely.  At yet another store she found an antique table with matching legs to the chairs and pulled off a very dainty, ladylike room.  She was proud of the coordinating blinds and everything was in it's place, tastefully and beautifully arranged.  She seemed so lively and invested in creating this beautiful space and I remember feeling in awe of her.  Here she was, well into the golden years and still had the passion to create a beautiful space in which to dwell.  My mother's house? Still has the same wall grouping she ordered from a mail order catalog back when I was like 12.  I swear, nothing has changed at all.  I go into the bathroom and giggle at the crap *I* put up on in walls in 7th grade, trying to recreate the beautiful homes of my friends, whose mothers kept them decorated and maintained   I was so embarrassed by my house when I was a child.  

Looking back at my father's house, in pictures, I do find it a bit odd that it's also tastefully (for the time) decorated and can't help but wonder why a bachelor had potted plants everywhere and hand-written scriptures and quotes tacked to the wall.  I wish I could ask him (or anyone about this) but my father is like the "One Who Shall Not Be Named" to anyone who knew him.  

So I am left wondering where this drive in ME comes from.  I love old things.  I have a passionate desire to fill my space with beauty, antiquity and things that tell the story of who I am and what I value.  I would never (evereverever) go into a store, find a set of things that look pretty and bring it into my home to decorate.  I feel like that's cheating and completely killing my creative spirit.  But this also means at times, my house looks downright tacky.  See, I've followed the advice in all my country living magazines that say "If you love it, bring it home and it will all be okay eventually."  Man, that's hard . I can't see the end picture or what it will look like and the thing is, you can't walk into an antique store and furnish your home the way you can with places like Rooms To Go.  (Funnily enough I LOVE the way those rooms look and feel...in other people's houses.  I find the cohesiveness relaxing, yet if I had to live with it every day, I couldn't handle it....why is that??)  I feel like I'm busy collecting orphans (in a totally non Angelina Jolie way.  My orphans are inanimate so I don't have to worry so much about killing my food budget) hoping they will all get along.  I have everything from old cast iron and vintage Pyrex, to antique furniture I've found here and there.  When I bring something in, it does look nice, but there are tweaks that need made and so far, I'm just not entirely happy with what I've got going. It's a process (Hey, that sounds my house in general.  Did I mention I think DIY remodeling should be against the law? Because when you go this route, your kitchen will suck for many years while you are busy on the rest of the house.)

Right now, I'm staring at my prized chairs from last year, knowing they desperately need recovered and not knowing how or what to do with them (You know what else should be against the law?  White, or cream, or ivory or anything remotely LIKE it being brought into a house with children.)

Remember these?

I had no delusions that these would last forever.  They are just too old for that fabric to survive in this house. When I placed both of these by the big window, within a couple weeks the fabric on the arms started to fade.  I am thinking these were originally in a place without a lot of natural light and you can see beyond all the flowers, these are technically white.

I've priced having them professional reupholstered and it's steep.  REALLY steep and if our house wasn't bustling with so much activity, that wouldn't bother me. But it is.  So even brand new upholstery job will eventually look....used.  (On a related note, I have actually considered having a lobotomy to remove that part of my brain which tells me it IS possible to have a home worthy of Better Homes and Gardens while raising a big family.  Then I realized that operation was kind of expensive and for a lower cost I could buy adequate breasts, and really, if I'm going under the knife...I'd just rather have spectacular cleavage  than realistic expectations when it's all said and done)

So the next logical thing to consider is slipcovers.  Only there isn't one on the entire planet (Fiji?  Yup I totally checked Fiji artisans on Etsy, they don't have them either) that will fit these chairs.  Wingbacks? Yes, but with t-cushions, not square.  They just do not exist.

Me sewing them you say? Bwhahaha! 

No.

Can I sew?  Yes.  Quite well actually.  And if the thing I'm sewing is one dimensional, like a quilt, I'm quite happy to do it.  Any more dimensions than that and I start channeling 1980's Eddie Murphy (my new reference when I'm embarrassed about my language proclivities)

And this is definitely multi-dimensional.  Apparently when you want to create a slipcover, you have to do all this pattern making, pinning, sewing, checking, pinning, sewing some more and this is just not going to happen.

I need a seamstress that won't want to kill me when he/she is done with making slipcovers for this.  I'm thinking of trying to find someone locally.

Unless someone out there can point me to non-ugly-properly fitting slipcovers for these.

Help?!?!

Stupid on an Organic Level

You know, one thing I really like about myself is that I enjoy people.   I don't just fake enjoy people, I really enjoy everything about them.  Very rarely do I find myself not liking someone and I try really hard to not let certain things get under my skin, because in my opinion whatever annoys me about someone else is probably way less annoying that half the things I do.  As I've gotten older, more and more things roll off my back and I like this part of aging.

But today, I'll confess to something that really, really gets on my nerves.  It's the "expert" mentality   The person who runs around shoving crap down your throat and in your face over and over and over, when they really have NO idea what they are talking about.  If you really ARE an expert, I'll sit at your feet and soak it up.  If you know something I don't, *awesome.*  I am very teachable and very much in love with learning.  If there's some bit of knowledge you can put in my pocket, I'm ever so grateful.

So, there's a blog written by someone I know.  This blog ticks me off.  Why you ask?  Because it's about health and nutrition and I know the person is trying to make money off this blog.  It implores it's readers to "get healthy" and "quit eating crap that will kill you...." and the like.  I'm sure you've all read stuff like that.  The advice varies depending on which agenda is being pushed and that's simply the way it goes.  That's also fine with me.  I'm smart enough to sort the chaff from the wheat.  So why does this blog get on my nerves...because this is a typical recipe you will see.

Super Duper Healthy Enchiladas

Organic cheese
Organic Hamburger
Organic Sour Creaam
Organic Green Chilis
Organic
Organic....
Organic....
White flour tortillas.

Enjoy this ORGANIC dish without guilt.

Okay, dude...we get it.  Organic is better for your health.  No pesticides=awesome.  But EVERY SINGLE RECIPE on the site replaces conventional ingredients with ORGANIC and most of them have something in them that is completely NOT FOOD.  Like white flour tortillas.  I'm not a food purist or snob, but this isn't a good food.  For those who are just trying to tweak their diets to include MORE GOOD and not less bad, this is totally okay, but the basic gyst of this alarmist blog is about surviving cancer and getting healthy and all that.  Organic Sweet Potato Pie with ORGANIC SUGAR is still bad news in terms of overall health.

But that's never addressed.  And it makes me crazy.

An organic dog turd is still a dog turd.  (But if it's GMO free, enjoy without guilt!)

I guess when it comes to people blogging about stuff like this, I feel like they should do a little more research and know what they are talking about.  What about our nation's epidemic of diabetes and insulin resistance? Our wide spread food allergies that are morphing from mere nuisance to deadly serious?  Having your organic cake and eating it too isn't the answer.  Ultimately, we all have to make decisions based on reality and I feel like preaching otherwise is irresponsible   Yes, people should be responsible for themselves s but when you demand the role of expert and leader, at least do it right.

For ME, organic sugar is out.  For good.  Honey is OUT and that's some GOOD stuff (my children still get it) and I am not so hyper focused on what I can't have, but what I SHOULD eat for my health.  I don't want my diet to look like everyone else's but with organic components.   (As a side note, have you ever noticed how people look at food as eating it makes them good or bad?  Like they'll say "I was bad today...I had chocolate cake..." That is interesting to me.  We don't say, when getting lower octane gas..."I was bad today, I got the cheap gas for my car..."  In that same vein, we really should be viewing it as whether or not we gave our tanks gas, or just water.  You aren't BAD for having chocolate cake.  There is no morality issue there.  It's a choice between FEEDING your body on a cellular level or simply FILLING it to feel full....but I digress)

I think I get angry because I get sick of fads, and of people saying if you do THIS you're going to be healthy and lose weight and float around on happy, cancer-free clouds (Another digression.  I am ALL ABOUT eating healthy and taking care of our bodies, and trying to get rid of cancer, but assigning a way to stave it off pisses me off.  It sort of downplays how random cancer can be and puts a whole lot of pressure on people who have it, essentially saying they could have prevented it.  I am sure we all know people who are perfectly healthy and do really well with their lifestyle and still get struck by the lighting known as cancer)

I know in the grand scheme of things, this is a moot point and probably a really stupid pet peeve, but it's definitely one I have.  If you want to be an expert, then BE AN EXPERT.  Don't be lazy about it.  Don't recycle the same shiz with pretty words and think you know what you are talking about.  And dude, don't try to make MONEY off of it.

However, if you're in the market for some b/s....I've got some organic pork rinds for sale ;)  Fried in organic lard, seasoned with organic salt.  Get your cancer fighting chiccorones right here.  Just call 1-800-FAT-YUMZ or visit my website at www.organicporkrindsbecauseorganiceverythingisthebestthingyoucandonottodie.com

Skeletons Need To Stretch Their Legs Too!!

Why keep 'em in the closet all the time?  That's not fun.

Seriously though, we all have them.  These bony little bastards hanging out in dark places, threatening to out us if we get too close to someone that likes us just the way we are.  It's kind of scary actually...thinking if people knew the WHOLE truth, they'd hate you.  We perpetuate this all the time when we chastise people for "airing their dirty laundry" in public, but how about the laundry that was dirty, that we're working diligently to get good and clean?  What about that laundry?  I feel like sometimes it's cathartic to share certain things that have hurt us, those we love and people we barely know...because sometimes when we share the hard stuff, we bless other people in the process.

Today, I'm ready to do just that.

A long time ago, I did something foolish.  Something very much "Not Me."  And the effects of that are still hanging around, in their own faint ways.

As most people know, seven years ago Jamie and I lost a baby boy.  That's it's own story.   When we left the hospital, we were given all sorts of pamplets about grief, and specifically about it's effects on marriage.  Pffft, I thought.  Maybe for OTHER couples not as close as Jamie and I.  We'd be JUST fine thankyouverymuch.  On the outside, I think we were.  Or looked like it.  We sort of went through the motions of life.  We had a lot go on in a very short time.

Wednesday-Sonogram showing baby not okay
Thursday- Waiting for an appointment to see specialist, Googling my way into sheer insanity
Friday early morning- waking up not being able to breathe, getting into specialist, getting confirmation
Saturday-Making arrangments
Sunday-Wanting to die, getting a phone call that Jamie's grandmother has suffered stroke on the way home from church
Monday-Getting stuff ready some more, being really upset about Jamie's grandma
Tuesday-Mom coming in to take care of the kids
Wednesday-Had Matthew, came home
Thursday-Laid in bed, cried, cuddled my kids, Jamie had to go take a test at college, seriously!!
Friday-Mom was too sick to come and help?  She wouldn't stay with us, but stayed down the road where there was a casino (hmmm....wink)
Saturday-HUGE blow up with my mother resulting in her storming out of the house shouting to my children "Bye, I'll never see you AGAIN."  Lovely.
Sunday-Jamie's grandmother passes away
Mon-Trying to figure out how to get Jamie back home, making phone calls
Tuesday-Planning a trip, we're ALL going (Less than 7 days postpartum....)
Wednesday-Buy the van that will get us all there (we couldn't all fit in our van after getting my nieces) and get on the road to Missouri
Thursday-Arrive in Missouri, funeral, I am dragged to the food get together with the whole family, despite my overwhelming protests that I DID NOT WANT TO GO.  But as it was with Jamie's family, my postpartum body, bleeding and exhausted should always cater to what was best for THEM.  Lovely, again.
Friday-Visit with family
Saturday-Back home

Exhausting.  In every single possible way.

And then we just started life as usual.  We fought more than usual.  Usually over Jamie forgetting to pick up Matthew's ashes.  He finally breaks down and admits he hasn't forgotten, he just can't face it.  I am angry, completely unable to help him through his grief, because my own is so deep.

A monthish later, the girls we are supposed to adopt leave.  In the middle of this, every Christian person I know has turned their back on me, chastising me for "aborting my baby" and not "taking in the orphans" as the Bible has directed us.  It was a swell time, let me tell you what.  I always love how people make judgments and think they can do better without having even one single fact about the circumstances.  Like the fact that those girls had serious issues and that one was asking to play with my son's penis and wouldn't stop.  So yeah, all one big ball of happiness ;)  Not.

Time marched on and I faced severe insomnia.  I couldn't sleep at all.  I stayed up really late, on the internet, working.  (I had a business at that time that was thriving.  Sometimes being up late was necessary in order to chat with clients overseas)  I did all this through Yahoo.  My business contacts were ALL, without exception, moms with small  businesses.  So, yeah I had my profile picture up on my page, and I was ALWAYS available for chat.

One evening, or very early morning, I was still awake, and decided to see what was up in the chat rooms.  I didn't know if they still even had real people in them or what, it had been forever since I chatted online.  So I persued the Parenting and Arts and Crafts forum.  Risque stuff right there.  But it WAS.  I was blown away that no matter what room I wandered into, I immediately got PMs saying "Hey there hottie, what are you wearing??? " and other such nonsense.

Until one dude just started chatting to me within the room.  He wasn't rude, or gross, or obnoxious.  Just "Hey how ya doing?  Yeah I have kids too, I hate Dora, and I don't even want to THINK about what's in Chicken McNuggets because we eat them 8 times a week."  Just  normal stuff.  Little did I know how good he was.  And that was it.  We just chit chatted.  He could have been male or female, it didn't matter.  It was interaction at 3 am, that I desperately needed.

Signed off, thought nothing about it.

Meanwhile, in our house, things weren't so good.  Our intimate life was suffering, for reasons I really can't pin down at all. Maybe I was afraid of being too close, getting too close, whatever.  I'm sure a counselor would have a field day with all the reasons that were there.  In a very heated argument, my husband made a statement that infuriated me and I can't even remember how it was said, but it was something about me being a prude now.  It was a cruel and hurtful thing to say, but in his defense, he was hurting and men get a lot of their love through physical attention.  I think his goal was to get me to realize how my with holding this was affecting him, but in the end I felt like 'Oh yeah...you think I'm a prude??? I'll show you!!"  Now, in MY defense, I wasn't myself at all during this time.  I went CRAZY.  Dyed my hair, lost weight, smoked cigarettes  decided it was high time I tried pot (ha ha...high time,) routinely got my nails done, drove all over creation even though driving is something I hate, went to bartending school and got a job in a sleezy American Legion.

And I chatted with my new friend, and never once (at first) saw anything coming from it.  I was a Mom.  With a body nothing like it's 18 year old version and I just felt like there was this anti-sex forcefield around me.  I was immune to all that nonsense.  It was just chatting.  To day I was naive was an understatment.  I had gotten married so young and tucked safely under my husband's wing since I was 18.  I had no idea what men (and women) were capable of.

Long story short, it morphed very fast.  His intentions weren't pure and he drew me into considering the same.  I wasn't nurturing a fantasy of clandestine meetings or "secret love" but the idea that maybe I had just married the wrong guy, maybe this OTHER guy would make everything better.  Cliche, cliche, cliche.  A very painful, demoralizing cliche.  In the end, I told my husband and he was shattered.  It didn't get better before it got a whole lot worse and it was a horrible, horrible time.

On a Saturday, I felt really sick and Jamie asked me to go to the drugstore just to get a pregnancy test to see if we might be expecting a baby.  Even though we were fighting, we weren't totally frigid towards each other.  Lo and behold, those two lines announced Mallory's existence, and the second, the VERY SECOND I saw them, everything switched back on for me.  I was a Mom again.  It was the weirdest thing.  I got out my sewing machine and nested the entire nine months.  I sewed and quilted and decorated and cleaned and hugged my belly over and over again.  She didn't replace Matthew, but she did provide healing for me, in so many ways.

We really didn't talk about this that much once it was all said and done.  Jamie asked if I wanted that "other" guy and I truthfully said no.  It wasn't about him at all, it was this person who didn't see (see?  On the computer?  Not sure how that works, but whatever) the lady who had let her entire family and her entire FAITH family down by losing a baby and not adopting these two little girls.  I felt honestly like if I wasn't a good Mom, than what was I?  That's all I wanted to be good at (consequently, after finding out we were expecting Mallory, I was also ready to let go of the business I had built and I sold it for a not shabby price)  I just felt at the time like I wanted all that to go away.  I wanted a fresh start, but in the end, with a "fresh start" you can't bring all that you were and all that you've learned with you.  A fresh start is new, it's not an extension of everything you've been.

I really hurt Jamie and he really hurt me and we haven't dealt with it until now.  I explained I felt like he should have protected me to an extent.  Kept me from that grievous sin instead of allowing me to be "my own person."

When my mother had that huge fight with us (that started because we wouldn't spank our children over something stupid....we just didn't agree with her method of disciple or her reasons for it) she went home and told everyone that knew me that my husband "controlled me" and all sorts of other nonsense.  I am not sure where she got all this or what compelled her to lie in such a disgusting way (we're good now, but still...wow) but it REALLY affected Jamie.  He knew he had a traditional wife, and I DID ask him before I bought anything big (and he did the same, but I digress) and I DID ask his opinion on things like what to eat for dinner, what dress to buy, what kind of flowers to plant...you know husband and wife things.  But he said that statement by my mother really shook him up and make him question if he WAS a controlling husband, that wasn't "letting" his wife do things and he felt like if he asked me to stop staying up late, and running around, he would just confirm that's the kind of husband he was.  And he said he couldn't stand the thought of being like that with me, because he loved me too much.

In the end, every single person in our circle let us down big time.  The "friend" who accused us aborting Matthew, my family who made this horrible situation about them and their feelings, his family for not realizing his wasn't strong enough to support them all in the loss of his grandmother because he had just lost his son (His mother actually chided him for not "being there" for his sister, dealing with the loss of her grandmother....I still want to ring her neck for that.  Hello he just lost his SON AND HIS GRANDMOTHER...why is NO ONE concerned with THAT??) Us for not realizing all that stuff about grief and marriage totally DID apply to us.

And I found out later this dude, the friendly one that just wanted to chat...then talk...then meet...then...whatever??  He was married to a lady I knew.  As in REALLY knew and he was a low down cheating SOB who did it a lot . I wasn't special to him but in order to entertain that idea, I hurt the person who I WAS special to.

And now you know at least a little more about my very imperfect self.  And my very imperfect husband.  And how much we truly do love each other and want to be with each other, faults and all ;)

It Takes Two To Make A Thing Go Riiiighhhhttt....

It takes two to have a huge a$$ fight.

Seriously, this tune has been playing in my head all morning.  I know, cheesy, but true.

Yesterday was HORRIBLE.  Just horrible.  I was fighting with husband.  Or rather, discussing a fight we had in the middle of the night when my pent up rage, that I was trying to hold back until after Friday, unleashed itself on an unsuspecting husband long after we had both gone to bed.

What???  We FIGHT?  Uhm, yes. Yes, we do.  Wanna know what about?  Too bad.  That's private and it wouldn't make sense to anyone who doesn't know us.  You'd hear the words and be like "Seriously?  That's what you were arguing about?  That's dumb.." But to us, it's not.  That's because relationships have history and meaning and little things can become big before you know it and things that remain unresolved have a way of creeping back up demanding they be acknowledged and put to rest.  Issues are like ghosts, that while we think are dead, are just lingering, waiting to be exorcised from our consciousness   It's funny how we feel so pious when we choose to "forgive" or "let go" of something, not realizing how doing that offends our souls.  If we are wronged, even slightly, it really does need to be acknowledged.  Maybe not in a knock down drag out fight, but in a way that allows the other person to know what they've said or done has hurt us.  We think we are taking the high road when we choose to ignore or even condone a behavior, but really it's selfish.  We don't want the conflict, OR we gather those offenses like arrows, storing them up for the day when a full quiver can be unloaded into an unsuspecting target.  Neither of those help the other person, or our relationship grow.

Anyhoo, I didn't intend to go all philosophical this morning ;)  I wanted to discuss something else that sort of blows my mind.  Something I recalled while I was wallowing in my misery yesterday.  The thing that makes me want to tell people "Jamie and I are fighting and I am really sad and depressed about it" but gives me pause because no matter how mad I am at him, or he me, I will not throw him under the bus and paint him out to be some big jerk that is worthy of not only my wrath, but those of them who love me (Except for one person. She's totally allowed to acknowledge his jerkiness because she also tells me how wrong I am at times)

So I told someone a while ago.  "I am mad at Jamie.  He really crossed the line last night."  And I got asked if he HIT me.  What?? :)  The intentions were pure, and I get that.  My friend really was worried about me and I love that.  But when say "crossed the line" I simply meant his language was sassy and I didn't appreciate it.  He said I was "being bitchy."  He didn't even call me that NAME, just said I was acting like that. (and he was right, but dude, it made me upset.  We don't talk to each other like that)

It's hard when the whole world is so screwed up and you can't even be upset about a marital issue until it's that big.  Does he HIT you?  Did you find a secret stash of cocaine?  Is he cheating on you with a transvestite he met while preaching on the street corner?  Has he decided deodorant and toothpaste is against his religion??

No, no, no and ew.

We just fought.  We said mean things to each other.  We DID mean things to each other.  And when you love each other, that really, really hurts.  I don't function well with conflict.  I don't like looking in the mirror knowing I very adequately defended myself, but did so at the cost of losing who I really am.  I am not this mean, raging lunatic that says hurtful, nasty things.  He is not the type to do anything that makes me feel unloved or mistreated.  But we totally do go there and when we do we are both so miserable we can barely breathe.  There's this vacuum created and it's so lonely.  There are tears, and quietness, and talking about meaningless bullcrap when we REALLY just want to hug, and say sorry, and be okay with each other, yet we know it's not done.  We're both too wounded to finish discussing that which hurt us both, but we know until we do, it's still there.  There's a thorn in our paws that we know we have to get out, but we know that it will hurt when we do.  And it sucks.

This is marriage.  This is what happens when you live with someone for a long time and that someone knows you inside and out and can still step on your feet or your heart, or both.  There are times when I want to throw in the towel, and say "I'm going to.....go Walmart for FIVE hours and turn off my cell and then...then you'll be sorry!!" (Or I could threaten worse not because I want anything like that, but because I'm pretty sure that after a big fight there is no going back to before...but love has a funny way of bouncing back when it's simple human nature, and not something really scary, that causes the rift)

Two nights ago, I was furious.  Yesterday morning, I was super angry.  In the afternoon, I was worn out and by the evening I was so sad I could barely function.  We sat in the living room together, not really talking, him holding the baby, me crocheting.  I laid the rug I was working on down to see how big it was and if it was flat and I heard him speak.....I had to ask him to repeat it.  "You going to make it bigger?"   "Yeah...I'm going  to keep going for a while."  "That's really pretty, it's turning out nice."  Sigh.  I still love him.  He still loves me, I think and we'll be okay. Exhausted, but okay.

(I know this because I had a very vivid dream last night that I was pregnant.  Surely that's a sign right??)

And we all know where babies come from ;)

Mexican Dude and the Burrito

So I posted about this on Facebook.  The Mexican Dude in a poncho, sitting on a lawn care trailer, eating a burrito while his (presumably) white dude employers sat in the cab, while they all ate foodz before taking on the busy, busy day taking care of people's yards.  I actually did a double take because the whole thing was so cliche.  I had a mixed bag of emotions and feelings.  You know how that goes.

We could talk about immigration and illegal aliens, or how unhealthy fast food burritos are and how the tin foil wrapping he was holding is going to ruin the planet, or even social injustice.  But that's not what struck me as amazing about the whole thing.  What I felt looking (briefly) at this dude, was how content he was with so little compared to what most Americans are.

None of think we are materialistic, but we are.  Just by being an American we really do hone in on the material objects we have, even if we don't obsess about them or worship them, we really DO enjoy them.  I tend to get along better with people who do seem to have a slight detachment to material objects and what status they may or may not paint about the person, but even those more humble individuals....they are also attracted to and are enjoying material objects day in and day out.  (Okay, I shouldn't hone in on AMERICA...this is probably true of any developed country where it's citizens enjoy this standard of living, but I've only been here so that's the only country I can speak intelligently about.)

And I just wondered WHY.

So I thought about this Mexican dude, probably living in a house with a lot of other people, with much less "stuff" than I have, but more people....and it seems to be most simpler societies (think Amish...) have more people and less stuff and then it hit me...."stuff" IS our community.  It's how we relate to one another.  It's how we know we fit in somewhere, somehow.  We may not know our neighbor, but we can see they have a house similar to ours, drive a car kind of like ours and dress kind of like we do, and we realize, we belong.  We have something in common.

When we get together with people we don't see often, we share about our lives and we enjoy talking about our commonalities.  At my last mom's night out...we laughed, and giggled and shared stories and I found out the lady next to me also liked yarn, and we had something to talk about.  It was something that connected us.  We'd leave at the end of the night not really knowing the ins and outs of each other's lives, but for a moment, we belonged to the same community and it felt nice.

Our things connect us.  They just do.  And I realized it doesn't make us surface, snobbish, materialistic evil people at all.  We just want to belong to something...bigger than ourselves, that we can tangibly touch and share.  Rather than allowing our "things" to replace people, we are building bridges with them, however simple that might be and at the root of it all, we really just want to connect.  With people.  Not things...people.

What an interesting concept.

Leader, Smleader.....

I am totally laughing at the title of this because it's kind of dumb.  But you get the point.

Apparently when Jamie made me tea last night, it was of the caffeinated variety and that kept me tossing and turning late into the night, which means I think about random crap.  Important stuff and trivial nonsense.  You know how that goes.

So I was thinking about how people always reference our government people as "leaders."  This is a pet peeve of mine.  The idea that we're all sheep and our government is the shepherd, even though in reality, they  should be the sheep.  They are paid.  By us.  To do a job.  Leading isn't one of them.  Know what I mean?  I mean seriously, they are no more qualified to be "leaders" than your next door neighbor (unless he or she is awesomesauce, but do you even KNOW your neighbor??)

When I think of the word LEADER, I think of someone who has or is doing something amazing to better our world and is reaching out to others to teach them to do it to.  My government?  Yeah, they are sorely lacking in all of that.

So I was thinking last night about my life and who I feel has made an impact on the business of daily living and I came up with a list of who I am personally marching to.

Of course, my faith plays a big part in all that I am and do, and anyone who reads this already knows that.  So we'll give a shout out to Jesus and his Word, and all the people who have written stuff about it that have impacted me.  The why I am going where I am going is rooted in all that.

And then there's Joel Salatin whose philosophy should be taught to everyone, in my humble opinion.  His model of farming and whatnot is something we've read and studied and are striving for right here on our homestead.  Totally leader material!!

The Yarn Harlot  I probably don't even need to go into this because you see the word "yarn" over there and assume.....she's about yarn or something.  Your partly right.  But she's also an amazing, talented and hilarious writer.  We'd be BFFs if we ever met.  I'm sure of it ;)

Ina May Gaskin  You can just feel the peace and love drifting off Ina May.  This pioneering midwife calls the US on their b/s when it comes to birthing and our outcomes.  Reading anything she's written or listening to her speak should piss off every single women in this country.  If you don't understand WHY midwifery and homebirth is so looked down upon in America, you just have to wake up and smell the dollar signs.  I am not saying every woman should eat granola and wear flowers while she births in her bathtub, but every woman should have the CHOICE to do so.  All the statistics that say it's unsafe are completely concocted to support a medical establishment that makes a huge amount of money on medicalizing birth.  If you think otherwise, do a little research into other developed nations and the birth model that is used in almost every country but ours and ask yourself why is homebirth only dangerous in America???  Does that seem stupid to anyone else?  Does to me!

John Taylor Gatto  This dude called out the school system for it's b/s too (I think I see a recurring theme.  I am kind of anti b/s) as he was getting an AWARD.  This completely sums up how I feel about our country's educational system.  If you're a teacher, I bow down to you.  I think you are amazing and how I feel about the SYSTEM in no way reflects how much I value your service.  That you can accomplish anything with the amount of red tape strapped around your body, mind and soul as you do this amazing job impresses me more than I can say!  Homeschoolers are not anti-teacher.  We're anti b/s and the "system."

Sidetracked Sisters  These are the original "Fly Ladies."  The books are hilarious and even though written so long ago, are still a refreshing look into the lives of us stay at home slackers.

And I don't really have any contenders for parenting advice, because....I think all people who try to cash in on parenting advice are doing a huge disservice to people.  I think it's all crap.  It's like animal care manuals...but for humans. And this annoys me.  People are all so different and children are just little humans. They are all different.  I feel like parenting advice shouldn't come in the form of pages written by someone you do not know, that does NOT know your child.  Parenting wisdom is like a baton and should be handed to one another, face to face.  I stick to topics when it comes to my "parenting leaders."  If I need some ideas about getting them to clean their room, I read about cleaning, not parenting. If I am looking for help getting a baby to sleep, I read about sleeping, not parenting.  I ask people I know that are a few steps ahead of the game what they've done.  I wish I would known this when I became a mom.  I fell for the "expert" stuff hook, line and sinker, but guess what? I'm the expert when it comes to my children ;)

I suppose we all takes turns in this lifetime being leaders and followers but I will say with some certainty that I don't look to our civil SERVANTS to lead us anywhere.

The power of words is an amazing thing and what we say and hear becomes truth on some level.  To that end, I think I'll start a new trend.  No more of this "Our government leaders" bullcrap.  From now on it will be "Our government servants..."  You know, just to keep it real ;)