The Other Half

Rarely, if ever, do I fit in the same thought stream as most of society. Obviously, someone, somewhere, is bound to have similar opinions as me, even if it's hit or miss. Anyways, today I've been pondering about something that mainstream society doesn't generally approve of or promote, something I can't get off my mind, and I'd like to share it. I'm also well aware that most people aren't going to read this.

I love my mom. My dad. My son, my daughter. I love them dearly. There is one thing these 4 people have in common with me, and that is that they were given to me. God gave me my beloved parents. He gave me my children. But my husband....God put us in each others' path, and he knew what my decision would be, but in the end, He did give us free will, and I DID choose him.

He's goofy. He's very tall. Sometimes he's a butthead. But he's MY tall, goofy butthead. Let me tell you about my best friend.

Husband is younger than me, by a year and 8 months. He gets really irritated when I call myself a cradle robber though. He's got a sarcastic sense of humor. He likes Rush, but his taste in music, while not exactly a "wide " variety, includes the music of many bands, so much so that he had to get a bigger iPod just to fit it all. He's a drummer; he's been drumming in some way, shape or form since he was 4. He's been in several bands, but quit earlier in the same year that he joined the Army. He joined the Army to help. He's very much like his dad; they have similar interests and behaviors, but then there are times when he's the polar opposite of either of his parents. He's kid #3 of 4, and the tallest of everyone in his immediate family. Fiercely protective of those he loves, but he also wants us all to be able to take care of ourselves. He is very fond of a simplistic, rustic, and maybe at times antiquated way of life. He hates social media, He's what you'd call the opposite of a conspiracy theorist. He's more likely to believe that nothing is going to happen, than that anything could. He's the picture of hard work and self-reliance. When you look up "building a house by myself" it gives you advice to call contractors, and that frustrates him because he ACTUALLY wants to be the one building it himself. He loves his kiddos; he's the one that gets down on the floor to play with them, tease them, wrestle with them. His favorite color is orange.

This is the man I chose. The one that listened with compassion as I told him my worst fears, things that made me cry, things that interested me. This is the man that listened last night when I told him I was scared, and hugged me until I calmed down, that let me cry on his chest even though it makes him uncomfortable. This is the man that God dropped on my lap, and that I chose to keep. 

On one of our few date nights. We rode the bike up the mountain and watched the sun go down.

Shortly after another date, before we were married. The only reason I'm that close in height is because he was sitting on a bike and I stood next to him...

Holding a newborn J in the hospital.

Halloween night, 2012, he sat and talked to a still-new J.

He played a game and J sat with him, watching.

Our very first family walk up the canyon. It was my victory, and he was super proud of me. J was grumpy.

Reading one of G's favorite books to her at bedtime.

G loves giving him hugs. She was 4 here.

Here's the controversial part. I believe, biblically, that God instructs women to put their husbands above their children. I mean, by all means, don't neglect the kids because Hubby wants a sammich, because that's just plain ridiculous, but the man is meant to be the head of the household, he's meant to be the spiritual leader of the family, and while a Godly, responsible man will most definitely take what his wife says into account, and for the good of his family, he is the one responsible for making the decisions. We are a traditional family. It has always been our intent that I be the one to stay home and care for our children and home, I do the cooking and the cleaning, and he earns the money that our family needs to keep going. We've made it work this way since summer of 2011, and we were married in early spring 2011. We've made sacrifices, we have scrimped and saved, and been budget smart, and we have not come across a crisis that demanded I get a job yet. We have paid for court battles, new vehicles, new gadgets. Under his direction, I have learned my way through basic car care, anger management, cooking...he's taught me so much, he's learned from me too. 

Someday my kids will grow. They will leave, and they will form families of their own. And when all my kids move out and onto their own lives, I will wake up, and the only other person in my home will be him. God gave me my children, but He will guide them onto their own lives. My future is him, and I chose that future. 

The Nature of a Farm

For several years now, I've looked forward to getting my farm life started. We'd decided we were going to be farmers, we started planning...I'd made my decision and I wanted to start living it. Nevermind that I'd never lived on a farm before, that my max amount of plant experience was helping in a garden or flowers in a tiny pot that I forgot about. Nevermind that I really had no practice with animals (although I wasn't so un-knowledgeable that I didn't know where beef, steak, pork, bacon, ham, eggs and chicken come from....I know there's no magic "Meat Conjurer" machine in the back of every grocery store). I wanted my farm life. I had this image in my head of a quaint farm in the middle of a prairie, and me washing and hanging clothes to dry, as I stare out onto the prairie, with my munchkins running about catching bugs and digging in the dirt....yeah, no. When you move to the farm at the end of October, that's not what happens.

We came home to bizarre weather. I took over the chicken chores in the evening, which includes feeding the dogs (dog now; the older dog went over the rainbow bridge earlier this week and all that's left is our demon dog, Apollo), collecting and then sorting the eggs. Husband is now cutting wood and hunting for small game to relieve the grocery bill. A daily chore of emptying the "water" is not out of the ordinary. We now live 16 miles from the nearest decent sized town, so running to the store "real quick" isn't possible. But you know what? I LOVE EVERY MINUTE OF IT.

I love this camper. I love my itty bitty bed that my warm son still fits in with us. I love my itty bitty fridge that forces us to be prudent about what we're shoving in there. I love my couch that triples as our dining room and J's bed. I love my makeshift spice rack. I love my coffee cabinet. I love my tiny closet and my tiny bathroom. It's not what I dreamt of, but that's okay. I'm learning to love my current stage, and keep dreaming for the future. And that's the nature of a farm. It doesn't always go with your plans, so you have to learn to roll with the punches, be creative and keep your chin up.

 Apollo sniffing around our eventual driveway, last year.

Me on a tractor, a couple years ago. I just recently drove one again.

Self-Motivation

I've noticed that out here in the boonies, without a schedule to make demands on our time, without accountability for certain actions...it takes your own decision, own self-driven accountability to do certain things. Today is Sunday. In most circumstances our family would be at church. But we are aware of what most of the churches around here are like. Not that they're bad, per se, but because of the nature of the area, most are far more traditional than we are okay with. There's nothing wrong with traditional, but we are just more casual than would be okay in a traditional church. And thanks to the blessings of the internet, our church in TX has podcasts of sermons, going all the way back to before we were regular attenders. But this is important to me, that we have some sort of spiritual nourishment. And so here we sit, listening to the sermon that convinced us that our church in TX was the church for us. And what timing; a sermon on worry. We remember listening to this sermon all those years ago; we knew God was speaking to us because at the time, we were worried about court over G. In later years, Husband and I both were involved in the worship team. We made friends in that church that we still have. That church brought us through some of the toughest moments in our life. They watched J grow up, because he was born shortly after we started attending regularly. They gave us a baby shower and even a farewell party. Without that church, and people to ask after us, ask why we're not there, it can be very hard to make oneself devote to something like that. "I must do this, not because someone else is expecting me to do this, but because it's good for me, because God desires this of me, and because He demanded it of me." Will someone confront me for not spending time with Him every week? It's possible, of course, but in the end, it's not those people that say something to me that are suffering if I don't. It's me. God doesn't need me. But I need Him, and so for my sake it's important that I take time out of every DAY for Him.

Spiritual needs are easier, physically, to neglect than chores, or personal needs. If I don't clean the camper, Husband will eventually be exasperated and get after me to clean it. J won't have room to play. If I don't cook, how does my family eat? But if I don't sit and spend time with God, Husband doesn't necessarily suffer for that, not immediately. Over time, if I don't exhibit the fruit of the Spirit, my son will suffer, my husband will suffer. Everyone who has to deal with me will suffer. It is the grace and mercy of God that makes me bearable to deal with, and trust me, there's a LOT of work to be done.

Closing One Chapter, Starting Another

When I first started this blog, my goal was to "journal," so to speak, about my adventures as a homesteading woman...and the time has arrived. A week ago we were on the road from Husband's base in TX to our final destination in IL. The Army chapter has ended, although it's a bit surreal for us right now. Husband is going crazy because his hair is too long (insert eyeroll here, because it's still ridiculously short) and he is growing a beard, although that part is on purpose. We purchased a camper back in the summer, to give us a space of our own, and while we still don't have everything we need, it actually feels like home. It's TINY. I'll post some pictures and give you a tour. (I only slightly cleaned up for you to see it, promise.)

This is the view from the foot of the bed, so obviously, our bed. We each get a night stand, and 2 walls are lined with cupboards to put things in. 

 Here's the view from the side (so in the last pic I was standing by the ugly blinds on the left), so you can see more cupboards, laundry hamper, and the shelf we put the computer on so we can watch movies.

 These are our closets, for lack of a better term. We each have one. On the right side is my oil cabinet, and on the left, that white inset thing is my fridge and freezer.

 Our itty bitty bathroom. Husband can't stand up straight in the shower. 

 There's that fridge again, along with our TV and tech set up, and the front door we use the most (there's another in the "bedroom.")

 The occursed Asian beetles that NEVER leave us alone.

 The dining set up, with the table down. If we're not eating I fold the table legs and prop it against the window on the left, there, and it's like we have an odd sectional. Otherwise the table props between the benches, and the cushions get rearranged to make J's bed. It's very cozy for a toddler.

My kitchen layout. I have a gas range, a microwave that doubles as an oven (no, really!) and on the right side of the sink is the hot water switch. We leave it off if I'm not doing dishes and no one is showering, and because J likes buttons and switches, we have to pull the fuse too.

It's small. Honestly, had things not taken the turn they did in court, we wouldn't have this place, because there's no way it would work to have G in here, but they did, and we mostly make it work with J in it. He's small and has a ton of room on his "bed."

We're learning how to juggle our time when it comes to cooking, we're learning how to come up with an efficient schedule and routine for bedtime, although naptime may become a dream of the past as we can't isolate J enough for him to be destimulated. We are needing to be prudent about the heat, since that sucks up propane, and we want to be prudent with electricity and water, so combat showers, as Husband calls them, and lights off will be a very important thing to us.

We have a local bank account now. But we're still trying to convince ourselves that when his "leave" is over, we won't be heading back to TX. Still, we've jokingly been calling ourselves "homeowners." I still have no plates or cups, I have all of 2 mugs in here because Husband retrieved some for me this morning when I realized we had no way to drink the coffee I was brewing so excitedly, but I have the TV and Xbox set up and running, I have the popcorn popper, the toaster, and all the pots and pans I pans I plan to use this year....but I just now found the plates and a couple glasses for Husband and I. My "spice rack" needs to be hung, but you better believe my oils cabinet is up and loaded. J doesn't have all his clothes but my coffee cabinet is loaded and ready for use. Ah, the prioritizing. JUST KIDDING. J's clothes are maybe 100 yards away, about half of them. The other half are in the cabinets above my side of the bed.

Husband has been tinkering and going on jobs and trips with his dad, getting ready to get into the farming lifestyle. There's still some homemaking to be done, but he asked for a week, and except for the part where he keeps running away to do other things, he's been using it. Stay tuned for more adventures!

And Now, A Word from Both Mommies...

Amy: Every mother's worst nightmare is, of course, something happening to their baby...but that only precedes being replaced. If I were to die, I would want Husband to eventually move on, to find someone that would love our son as I do, and would be willing to make sure that J learns about his mom, that he has access to pictures, that his daddy tells him why he loved me, why he married me, how J resembles me. Even before I had kids I would have wanted something like that. But I never imagined feeling replaced when I was still alive. And so when my relationship with X came to a bitter, horrible death, it wasn't a hope, but a fear. Things were....tense, and in the heat of the moment, once, X even TOLD me he was trying to replace me with M2, because I was a terrible mom. Talk about a great way to put a damper on the relationship. 

After years of tension, turmoil, and drama, things were miserable. We were all suspicious, stressed, and it was way too easy for a mountain to be made out of a molehill. In fact, that happened rather often. We've since boiled it down to a severe case of miscommunication, or lack of communication in some cases, and have changed our tunes. It hasn't been easy though, and for most birth moms, it can be a lifelong battle. If you are a biological mom, having to deal with the "other mom" in your kids life, here are some things you should consider.

1) No one can replace you. Unless you are a mean, abusive person, you are Mommy, and if you treat your kids right, they won't forget that. M2 entered G's life when she was about a year and a half old, but there has been no time when M2 has tried to replace me herself, and when I finally stopped wearing my butt as a hat, we were able to communicate our discomfort and preferences in civility, and therefore establish the respect that should have been there from the beginning. M2 is not referred to as Mommy, as per my comfort level and her respect for that. G calls her by her first name. She's asked but as far as I can tell she's never actually done it. Likewise, G has asked to call Husband "Daddy" but she doesn't, and Husband has, before, insisted that G stick to his first name since she has a daddy already. Like I said, unless you are mean and abusive, you are Mommy. Pure and simple. M2 can tell you a story about that if she so chooses.

2) Mutual respect and communication are vital to survive any sort of co-parenting effort, and they are vital to the benefit of the shared child. G sensed, and fed off of, the chaos that we all lived in for years. She had a few behavioral problems and eventually learned how to get perks from our constant state of disagreement. When M2 and I finally learned to work together to stop her taking advantage, she acted up a bit, but then settled down when she realized that we were on the same team and weren't going to let her get away with anything anymore. Even now, when there's an issue, whether it be her attitude or something she's doing at school, or us just needing her to know that what she's doing won't be acceptable anywhere she goes, we simply let each other know and it's addressed. There have been times where she's had issues there and M2 asked me to say something to her, and so things got better for a bit when "Mommy knew." Furthermore, we have learned not to hold issues in, let them fester, and then explode out in a moment of tension and disagreement. When something comes up, we address it, talk out intentions, feelings, and resolutions. In the last year since custody was determined, we have come a long way.

3) It's gonna get awkward. Talk it out and laugh it away. This past weekend I went to X and M2's state to surprise G for her birthday party. It was a BLAST planning it with M2, but the time required me to spend most of a day with X, which was awkward, and a decent bit of his family and friends that I haven't seen since before we broke up. Talk about nerve-wracking. I left Husband and J at home, because J causes chaos wherever he goes and that seemed like a disaster in the making, not to mention Husband is not to the peace point that M2 and I are, and so that seemed like more drama waiting to be had. It was a wonderful weekend, and I'm glad I went...but yes, it got awkward, and yes, M2 and I laughed some away, and hashed some out once I got home. The more you talk to someone with the mindset that no matter what happens, you are going to control your attitude and behavior, the better things will get.

4) Forgive. Whether it started out bad and got worse, or just a few things happen, you will not do your child or yourself any favors by holding grudges. Jesus calls for us to forgive over and over again, and as I've gotten older and have had a lot of experience in needing to forgive, I've come to the conclusion that it may or may not make the person you're forgiving feel better...but it will definitely help YOU feel better, and it makes you act more like a calm, compassionate person. That person you become when you forgive can only be a good thing for your child to see. God forgave me much worse transgressions. Nothing X or M2 has done to me can be anywhere as awful as how I've hurt God, but He forgave me. I've said some awful things to people I love, and have been forgiven. Forgive. It helps, I promise, even if all you want to do is hold a grudge forever and make them pay for it. 

5) Learn when and how to say something, and when to keep quiet. There's not a lot we have to keep quiet about anymore, but we had to work to get to this point, and even then, it's not like I want to blurt out the first thing that comes to my mind, because sometimes my mind is a jerk. Honey attracts more bees than vinegar, my friends. And like the last one, if the other person hasn't learned when and how to be quiet or when and how to say something, forgive, and give some leeway. 

Now, you may be a stepmom, and not a biological mom. Lucky for you, because this blog, and it's accompaniment, was M2's idea, and so she's writing the half for stepmoms. And so, I present to you, M2. :)

M2: This past weekend got me thinking. It was nice to finally be at this point in our relationship where we are able to be around each other for more than 10 minutes and be friendly. I mean, actually friendly. Not that fake nice, where everyone knows it’s fake. I hugged M1 when she arrived & when she left. I think I’ve only ever hugged her 1 other time. I look back at my time hop & think “man we’ve come so far.” When I entered this life, things were already on the bad side. Co-parenting was non-existent. Communication was non-existent. I wanted to help pull things together so bad. I’m a child of divorce. My bm is a complete idiot & my step-mom is an amazing lady. I saw the fighting & saw what it did to kids. I didn’t want that for G. I know what it’s like to want your mom so bad it hurts but nothing you do changing her being there. I didn’t want that for G either.

There was a time of jealousy on both of our parts. The emotions got the better of us. I’ve always told M1 that I’m not here to replace her. I’m hoping that’s apparent now. I know it wasn’t back then. I just wanted a place too. I wanted to be loved & accepted by G & M1. I know not all SM’s are in that frame of mind but please don’t think we are all bad. M1 & I joke about my wart or my broom. We have that relationship now. The relationship now is night & day different than even a year ago. Court, lack of communication, & hate do a number on people & relationships. 3 court hearings, 3 states (almost 4), 2 weddings, 1 baby, infertility, and a number of emotions later, here we are. All of these things have impacted our lives more than you will ever know. In the end, it is what brought us together. I wouldn’t have B or G without M1. She is a blessing in her own way to me. More than she will ever know. If she hadn’t moved back to IN and brought G & B along, B & I wouldn’t have ever met. Had she never moved to AZ and had G, I wouldn’t have B or G in my life. See where I’m going with this? Yes people have been hurt but to me, the good outweigh the bad. I’d take the pain of those few years all over again over not having either of them in my life. So without M1, none of this would have been possible. For that I owe her everything. So why would I ever want to replace the woman that gave me something I myself am not able to create? That is where I stand with it. No, we may not agree on parenting styles or political views but what does that have to do with loving 1 little girl?? So here are my tips on getting along with the birth mother of your step child:

1)      Communication!!! This one is my number one. Just like with any relationship communication is key. Without it your trust goes out the window. Just as M1 stated, G tried to get away with a few things. She got away with it in the past. Not so much anymore.
2)      Trust. This is another big one. It comes with communication. You have to trust that the other parent is trying to do what they think is best for the child. Just because what you think is best is different than what they think is best, doesn’t mean it’s wrong.
3)      Don’t be jealous. I’ve struggled with this one. Not because I‘m jealous of her life but because she has given life to such an amazing little girl. Maybe this is something only infertile people can relate to. I hate not being able to give B OR G a baby. I’ve come to terms with it now. The whole infertility thing is a monster on its own. I’ve talked to her about this as well. It’s not for everyone but being honest about it helps me.
4)      Be honest. Don’t lie or hide things. It just makes the others suspicious & not trust you. There’s no reason to lie or hide things (unless you are being abusive). Lying leads to all sorts of issues. Just don’t do it. K?

I’m sure there are more but I think we’ve both touched the basics for now. Everyone has different ways of dealing with them. Why deal with them alone? Why not handle them head on together? Wish this would have happened a long time ago. I’m thankful & happy it is now though. We now are friends on multiple social media pages, we co-parent so much better, we interact with each other’s families (most of them), etc. Life is getting better is what I’m trying to get at. Now if the boys could get on similar pages. We all know they won’t be on the same because, well, girls get along better than guys. In due time hopefully. B has come a long way. He was wonderful this weekend with everything. Little awkwardness here & there but that’s to be expected, right? They rode an hour home together in the same truck & even talked about politics. Gasp! They survived, lol.

At the party this last weekend. #butfirstlemmetakeaselfie

From our "2 Mommies 1 Baby" photo shoot around Thanksgiving

Pretty much sums up the first few years of knowing each other.

Raw

Sometimes the pain is just a dull flame. It burns, but not agonizingly so, and it has burned for so long you've almost trained yourself to ignore it. But then sometimes, just a little thing, a little puff of air can make it flare up so strong that you can't even look at yourself in the mirror anymore.

I've talked and coached myself into this hollow, smiley mask of life, going about my days, raising my son and preparing for my future, but I can't deny it anymore. A massive part of my heart is missing.

I wasn't ready for her, I didn't want her, I didn't want my life to go down that path, but I made the choices that opened it up to her anyways, and then she came, and I realized, even if I didn't want my life to go that way, I loved her despite it all, and I would risk losing what I thought was my only chance at the life I thought I wanted, because she was worth the risk. She was the innocent one, she hadn't asked for any of it. I ended up getting what I thought I wanted anyways, but it wasn't. We settled for each other, and she paid the price for it. And then when we couldn't settle anymore, we turned her into our tug-o'-war rope and started yanking. She didn't ask for that. She doesn't even remember it, but you could see it affected her. And then we yanked harder, and harder....and I lost. And now here I sit, wearing this mask for the world, trying to go on with my life, but no one the secrets I hide inside. No one sees the pain, the levels of complicated pain, no one sees the hurt. I don't think I do either, until I see something that forces me to deal with it, and then it comes out in tears, in horrible thoughts, in mood swings. And then he pays the price for those. Two innocent lives, marked and defaced by poor choices. Two others that jumped in blindly, in love, and desire to be there....and now hurt. And then the two offenders, who only went down that road from pre-existing pain, and desperation. So many lives hurt now.

This is me. Raw. And if you don't understand anything I've said, that's fine; it's mostly for me. If you do.....just remember.

I WORK OUT!!!

I'm tired of being fat. About a week and a half ago, I was perusing through my Instagram feed that I hadn't seen in a week, and caught sight of a pic of my cousin. I grew up with this cousin. She's an adult now; she has a daughter of her own and is establishing her life. I remember when she was the bratty younger cousin that always wanted the pink stuff, and how I had to give it up because I was older. I love her dearly...and sometimes it hurts to see how amazing she looks, because of how frumpy I look. That night my mood broke. I'd had a great weekend, but when I looked up from a gorgeous picture of my cousin to the mirror image of me....it was all I could do to hold off the tears. Then J decided to do some exercise with Husband and I decided to join. Husband was all for it and attempted to help, but when I couldn't even do 3 situps without struggling, the dam broke. I cried for ages, and poor Husband, not even knowing what had me so upset, just laid there with me, rubbing my back, while little J kept looking down at me and saying, "What'sa matter, Mama?" I couldn't answer, because I knew the anger I felt at myself would overflow and be misdirected to them, and furthermore, I couldn't stop crying long enough to speak anyways.

That was the beginning. Every day since then, Sunday excepted, I have either done cardio or muscle failure. I have plantar fasciitis, possibly a shin splint on the other leg, and I think I broke my toe yesterday, but I refuse to let that slow me down. I lay down at night and think about working out the next day. I have begun to consider lifting weights. Training to run. Ways to leave my son at home while I walk/run so that it is less taxing on me, therefore enabling me to run further or easier. I'm tired of being fat.

Things are changing in my world. I'm very excited for them, and I can't wait to invite you on my journey. A few things about my special considerations.

Plantar fasciitis: It's another name for heel spurs. When I wake up sometimes, my heels hurt so bad I can barely walk on them. It got worse as my exercise got more intense. Yesterday, I found a compression sock at Dick's Sporting Goods especially for that purpose, which is the black thing you see in the picture.

Broken toe (?): I have no idea if it is broken. I stubbed my toe, literally, on the side of J's foot, when he was underfoot while I got his reward for going on the potty. It's a lovely purple shade and bending it hurts. I still managed to plank and do pushups last night though. Score one for determination.

Shin splint (?): Again, I have no idea if this is what is is, but my right shin hurts when I walk. Again, score one for determination; I ran this morning. Not far, because I am VERY out of shape and I hate running, but I did run.

Supplementation: I have hypothyroidism, which means my metabolism is all messed up, and it's worse when you factor in missed meals, something I have a tendency to do, I've begun replacing certain meals with protein shakes, and as I have a supply of it, my protein powder of choice is ProFit, by It Works! Global. Same peeps that produce my lovely Greens. If I'm wanting a more elegant shake, I use vanilla, because the flavor is masked a bit better. If I'm wanting a quick one, I make a chocolate one with milk, because then it's like a weird chocolate milk that I can quick shake and chug. Either way, it works and then I'm usually good to the next meal.

If you're starting to work out, tell me about your experiences, your goals, and your progress. When we come alongside each other, we're more likely to succeed!

Hard Days

Lately I've been struggling with, I guess, a hearty helping of melancholia. I can function, of course, but I also know that my melancholia affects everyone around me, most of all, my son. J can tell his mommy isn't feeling right. As time has gone on I have definitely determined it's bigger than just a bad case of the blues; I have a massive hormonal imbalance. That's not something small or quick to deal with. What does that mean for me?

When I was about 10 days old, my mother got a call from my doctor, telling her to come into the hospital, with me, immediately. They didn't tell her anything else so of course she was scared that something was seriously wrong with me. She took me in, where she was told that per the standard infant examination, the doctors couldn't find any trace of my thyroid, the little bowtie looking gland that would have sat over my throat. The thyroid is the gland that manages your metabolism, of EVERYTHING. Energy. Food. Anything that needs to be metabolized is done so under the control of the thyroid. And I didn't have one. Fortunately, even back then, there was already an established medication for dealing with it. Unfortunately, it was only in pill form, because it was just so rare for a child of my age to deal with such a thing. So every morning for a very long time, my mom would crush up my pill, put it in a dropper with a bit of water, and give it to me. Obviously, now I'm able to swallow it, although the pills are such that I can chew and swallow them, being of a pleasant taste.

Fast forward 27 years. I'd been telling doctors for YEARS that I was born without a thyroid. If it was to a new doctor, they always wanted to ship me off to an endocrinologist, who would sit me on the table, and then proceed to tell me for the 3498753948753984th time how a thyroid works, how it effects me, etc. No alternatives were ever discussed. Nothing other than blood tests and tweaking of dosages. With each pregnancy my dosage increased a bit, permanently. Over the last 28 years I've gone through a few periods where insurance was either not in my life, or some inconvenience that is life prevented me from going to the doctor to get my prescription set up and filled, and so I've gone through pill-less periods. Some much, much longer than others.

And due to an unfortunate life twist, I am currently in a pill drought. This time, however, I'm feeling the effects much more than I ever have before and it's a veritable nightmare. Around 7/4 I ran out of my prescription, which normally isn't a big deal, because I can go on base, get a blood test or get a new prescription free of charge, get a 90 day supply and go home and resume my life. Not so this time. Because on 7/2 I went to the store with J and G, and in my carelessness I tossed my wallet on my purse. As I loaded my groceries and children into the car and grabbed my purse to go home, my wallet must have fallen off my purse into the cart, unbeknownst to me. I don't generally need my wallet unless I go somewhere, so when I got home, no biggie. G was running a fever and was very lethargic and it was determined between M2 and myself that she likely had strep and needed to be taken in to get started on antibiotics. I was NOT gonna tote J in there because to do so generally resulted in chaos and a nightmare, something I only endure for him when I absolutely have to (because it can take up to 6 hours at the base hospital ER), so I called Husband to come home and watch J while I took G to the appointment I managed to make for her. But as I set to making sure I had everything I need....my wallet was missing. Nowhere to be found. I tore the apartment apart looking for it, with no succession. I knew where I'd used it last and I called to see if a wallet had been turned in. Nope. So whoever found my wallet kept it. I lost a lot of things in that wallet, but by the protection of God, not my debit card, which had been forgotten at home. Husband took G to the doctor and I stayed home, mildly panicking.

That was a month and a half ago. I still have no driver's license, not the way I need to, and now base is closed so I can't get on base until I get my DL, because I can't even get my military ID until I have an ID for them to check. We had to suspend the credit card, I lost $47 in case, and a couple sentimental items. Without a military ID I can't get on base to get a new prescription. So began the process, around 7/20, for a new driver's license. I had a form to fill out, and then I had to send in a few things. But sending in one of those things turned out to be a nightmare itself, something that was FINALLY rectified about a week ago when Husband traveled home to take his bike back before we move, and mailed me, from there, the information I needed. I now begin a 10 day waiting period to get my DL, so I can get on base, get my military ID and then get my pills. I tried calling, at one point, to see what my recourse was to get more pills. Husband could only get them with a copy of my military ID, which is silly because if I had the ID to give him a copy, I would have the ID and wouldn't need him. Fortunately, they have a mailing system of some sorts with TriCare now, so I agreed to have my pills shipped to me, and was very excited to finally get some hormonal imbalance relief. But three days before they were due to arrive, I received an automated call from the pharmacy, alerting me that my prescription was ready and I would need to pick it up by Friday or the pills would be put back into circulation. So I called the pharmacy, exasperated, to tell them that we had set up for them to be MAILED to me, and if I could pick them up I wouldn't have bothered to have them mailed to me. They didn't know what happened to them and had me call TriCare, where the rep told me that she could see the order was put in, and that it even said shipped....but then something else was weird. Oh, ok, so turns out that they couldn't confirm my prescription with my doctor, who was it? Was she at Ft Hood? No? Hmm. Can't reach her....she doesn't have a secure fax line....nothing more I can do, you need to call the clinic and find a doctor with a secure fax line to authorize your prescription. Awesome sauce. All that work and everything fell through. Husband has begun to see the emergency of the situation; one day I was just so run down, low energy, because I've gone so long without pills that I could barely function. He found my temporary recourse that will hopefully lessen the chaos until I get my DL in the mail.

All this means that for about 3 weeks I have been on an emotional roller coaster. I was cranky and horrible for approximately 2 weeks, and then as soon as my monthly time was over I was inconsolably mushy and tearful, sentimental....and now I feel the very severe effects. It didn't help that every morning for most of that 2 weeks, I was waking up to J having created a little disaster in his room, for me to deal with first thing in the morning. Towards the end of the worst of it, I finally discovered a secret to dealing with it, something I'll mention later. Let me tell you, if even part of you thinks that anything about this blog post is intelligent and well worded, please appreciate the miracle of that. Generally, any time I've been off my pills, my ability to put certain logical thoughts together drops. I can't remember squat, I can't deal with minor catastrophes with any sort of grace....my ability to function as a normal, well-adjusted adult just sorta limps, if it functions at all. All this having been said though, I would LOVE to find an alternative, more natural way to deal with this lifelong hand of crazy jokers I've been dealt. I've had to find some ways to keep my mood tolerable.

Music is a major ally. I get in moods where I can't think of anything but a specific song, and so I'll listen to it and similar music to death until the itch is scratched. As long as I have that sort of music in my life I can put a smile back on my face. Oils are another coping method. Remember earlier when I mentioned the trouble J was getting in every morning? In the scheme of things, they were small....except that the same routine of trouble was repeating itself, literally, every morning. Sometimes there was an element that changed that just made everything a little bit worse, like the morning he'd taken his poopy diaper off and smeared the contents into various spots all over his carpet and on a few pieces of furniture, or the morning he took his wet diaper off, ripped it apart and had a confetti party with the wet stuffings that come in a disposable diaper, and it looked like it had snowed a bit in his room. Waking up like that, to such a mess that was just so....horrible, meant some pretty epic explosions on my part. So I took to waking up, walking to the bathroom, and rubbing Stress Away and Joy on my face, and then going to the kitchen to take a couple Confianza, before daring to open his door. Those few things are all that saved him an epic explosion the morning he played Picasso with poop. They also saved him on the snow diaper morning. He still manages to drag his mattress off the bed base every morning which drives me nuts simply because it's a pain to put back and I've told him no a million times, only for him to basically ignore me and either do it again the next morning, or even again later that day, around nap time. Le sigh. The struggle that is a toddler boy.

Coloring is my next coping method. I've mentioned these ideas in my stress management post, but, you know, I wasn't even off my meds when that happened. My stress level multiplies by about a billion when I don't have my meds helping me manage my hormones. Coloring makes me calm down and be methodical; it takes my mind off whatever may be going on that is stressing me out.

And then, bath time with a book.

Stress is par for the course with being an adult. It's inescapable. But it can be manageable, especially if you know yourself. I'm getting to know myself...and I like what I'm seeing some days, and dislike other parts. It is the way with things.

Plans For A Boy

Hopefully I can type this all in one sitting because it's weighing heavily on my heart today, but I know darn well that that can end with one distraction. I need to get this out.

The last couple of weeks have been very hard for me. Not because something big and traumatic happened, or because I'm remembering something crazy that makes me go crazy, but because my hormones have been completely out of whack. About a month ago, my wallet was lost/stolen. That's a hard thing to recover from, from a logistical standpoint, but to add insult to injury, I ran out of my prescription pills about at the same time. Now, I've gone without pills before, but for some reason, this time it was...different. My hormones took a deep, awful swing downward. I was cranky, moody, more than impatient, emotional in a bad way....my tolerance was at its lowest point, at least the lowest it's been in a very long time. Between snapping at Husband and J, I didn't even like myself, but I didn't seem to be able to reign in my total irritation for every little straw added to my haystack. I started waking up, dreading what new, fresh heck J would prepared to me. One morning he'd pooped and gotten his diaper off, and had smeared said poop all over and into his carpet. I spent the entire morning trying to spot clean the smears, and there are still stains that we'll have to use a professional cleaner on. He has also taken to scooting his mattress off his bed, so every morning for a bit I'd walk in there to discover his mattress taking over his floor, toys broken or scattered...it was hard to start a morning out keeping calm after telling him to quit doing that every single day. The lack of respect was, and really, still is, hard to stomach.

But what I'm noticing is that losing my temper serves 2 purposes: to ruin the rest of my day, and to break J's spirits. Now, if you don't know my boy, that sounds sad in and of itself, but if you could see the sheer life that seeps out of this boy, that would break your heart. He'so full of life, I don't want to crush that life out of him because I struggle to control my temper. And so this is what's on my heart.

I was an only child, raised by a single mother. My first child was a girl. I'm super unfamiliar with boys and so my poor son is his mother's guinea pig into the world of raising little boys. Add into that that he's busier, reportedly, than any of my MIL's children (one of whom helped create this tiny tornado) and, to be polite, I have my hands full. On Sunday, our associate pastor preached about grace, giving something to someone that most certainly doesn't deserve it, just because they are loved by the giver. He spoke on God's grace for us...and it hit me. If God gives me grace despite the awful person I am, I need to give J grace, because he's only 2.

My son is part of the future of this country. He has a strong heart, he has intelligence, and as his mother, it is my job to raise him as a God-fearing man that will treat everyone as a precious child of God, with respect and love. I want him to learn to consider his words before saying them, something his mother is still working on doing. I want him to love unconditionally, to make wise choices, and to treat the woman he chooses to love with dignity and respect.

Raindrops on Roses and Whiskers on Kittens

I just want to take a moment to tell you about me. I mean, from my blog posts you can get a pretty good idea about my political opinions, the ideas that weigh deeply on my heart, etc, etc, and that's a wonderful way to get to know someone. You'll keep getting that way too; this is my blog, after all. But sometimes some of the more trivial things are the ones that I don't share very well. So, here we go.

The one on the left is me. That's G on the right. She's a goof. But this is about me, not her, so let's continue. Right now I have short hair, and that's not even the most recent, but in my defense I dyed my hair 2 days ago so getting a decent, recent (HEY THAT RHYMES) picture of me is not in the cards right now. I cut it all off last year after court and a major personal crisis, because I needed a big change and chopping all my hair off seemed like the way to go since it's hot and hair grows, right? Wrong. I mean, it does grow, but I will NEVER do that again. G cut her hair to just under her chin about a week ago, and my hair is STILL not as long as hers. I miss my long hair. I'm making this grow-it-out phase as good as I can get it, but...no. Just no. Never again. My favorite part about me is my eyes, which I got from my father, and as far as I can tell, my kids got them too. (G had help from her dad, who has blue eyes as well, but J defies logic from his brown-eyed daddy.) The color of hair in that picture actually is MINE. There wasn't a bit of fake color. 

This was me in November of my senior year in high school, before kids and poor choices took their toll on me. Shiny, thick hair, skinnier, clean complexion, cute clothes. Now I look a bit frumpy after weight gain and stress from life. I was a bit of a goofy, light-hearted class clown, not as funny as a real class clown, cracking jokes and all, but I could be fun and enjoy light-hearted things with the best of them. There's a couple pictures in my senior portrait portfolio that have me laughing, because my photographer, the mother of another school buddy, had also taken pictures of my best friend, Josh, and told me how he couldn't stop laughing throughout the pictures...which of course made me laugh, because Josh's joy is contagious. So, here, therefore, is a picture of stereotypical Amy: 

I love wry humor, slapstick humor, clever humor. I love to laugh. Dave Barry is one of my favorite humor authors because he makes jokes about Richard Nixon in weasel neckties and other moments of hilarity. His comparisons are enough to, literally, make me laugh out loud. I love funny everything. Movies, live shows, stand-up shows....if it makes me laugh I'll probably want to keep indulging in it, or even expand on it.

I'm stubborn. Several people can attest to this, but I'm self-aware enough to admit so. I'm stubborn on my political opinions, surrounding my kids, I have a strong sense of justice, so if I sense an injustice occurring that I can fight, I will. If not, I'll probably sulk and be a bit bitter for a while. But I also have compassion, especially for, goodness knows why, little old men. Haha, I have no idea what it is about little old men plodding around doing their thing, but they tweak my heartstrings without even trying. Add in another factor, like injured, alone, homeless, and I can barely stand it. 

I have a hot head. I'm working to fix it, and I recently read something that, while true, was no excuse. Still, it properly explained how I feel. Moms are almost always on edge. There's so many things on our plate that stress or day drama adding to it, sometimes even just a little, can send us over the edge from calm and level-headed to red-faced baboon. Now, I do not quite have the drama and tension I had for several years, up to a year ago, but there's a different stress in my life, and I don't think I've entirely managed to deal with what was already there, so sometimes I wake up with the attitude of, "If even one thing goes wrong..."which, of course, it inevitably does, because J is a very busy little 2 year old boy. Again, though, working on it. Being a hot head is not something I want my kids doing too. 

I love rain. And if it's raining, the ideal music is Enya, or something soft and peaceful. Then there must be tea, a good book, and snuggling. I like videogames, but not really action based. I like the roleplaying/strategy type of stuff. Sims, Farm Simulator, Civilization, that sort of thing (we own all 3 of those). I need coffee in the mornings; sometimes it's my sanity for the day. I want to be organic and healthy, but right now that's expensive, and sometimes difficult. Someday I'll get there.

I love fantasy. Worlds that could exist now, or done so in the past. For example: Lord of the Rings. Harry Potter. Star Wars. Hunger Games. I suppose I could be included in the Harry Potter generation; I've read all the books and own all the movies. There was a time when G learned how to say "Harry Potter" in a British accent, and called them, "Mommy's movies." Lord of the Rings is a favorite going back many years, into high school when the movies were coming out and we used to have field trips to see them. I own the whole trilogy in one book version, and all the movies in extended editions. Star Wars was a world I discovered in high school when I found my dad's VHS trilogy tape set, and watched them....and got hooked. I watched them over, and over, and over, and now I own all 6 movies. Hunger Games speaks more to my political positions, of being done taking the government's crap lying down. It speaks to my inner rebel, the one that cries for a better life for my kids. So, therefore, I'm waiting impatiently for November when the 2nd Mockingjay movie comes out. I've had my times of liking Twilight, and own all the books and the movies, but I'll never be able to get into those like I have the other 4. 

I asked on my FB how people would describe me as if they're describing themselves, so not trying to brag about attributes, and someone commented, "Courageous." I'm not sure how I feel about it. I've been inclined, in the past, to speak my mind about current issues, using my own life experiences and pain to relate to it and explain it, and have been called brave and courageous. I guess I don't feel that way. I lived the life I lived, I've survived it. There has been at least one complete breakdown, and there have been lessons learned from that, and other painful experiences. I may not always go into detail, but I feel that if it helps someone else, then my story should be told, if even one person can see my story, see my pain, past and present, and make a different choice that saves them from that pain. I don't know if that's what qualifies for courage, but it's important to me. I was put on this earth to glorify God, and some of my choices haven't done that, so I do the next best thing I can: turn myself into a "what NOT to do" example. Anyone who knows me and what I've gone through can't deny that I have suffered greatly for my choices. 

Someone else said, "Forgiving." I can see this. That said, it's also somewhat biased, because often, in instances where I am forgiving, I've been at fault too, so it's not like I'm some high-and-mighty being that condescends to forgive some lesser, offensive being. A prime example is with X and M2. Now, someone biased may see my attempts to be friendly as forgiving, or even foolish (depending on how they still feel about it all) but to me, it's smart. X and I are stuck together, in some way, shape or form, to the end of G's days. She's still in school, and after that is college, and a job, and a wedding, family, which entails grandkids....we are linked because we made her. For me to be obnoxious and unforgiving, or less than humble, not only makes it hard on X and M2, but on G and myself too. And then J and Husband suffer as well. It is in EVERYONE'S best interest to forgive, ask for forgiveness, hold no bitterness or grudge, and to move on as civilly, even friendly, as possible. M2 and I have managed that, even when we disagree about something, and let me tell you, life is a lot easier now than it has been in years, because we try so hard to be friends, even outside the realm of co-parenting G. 

Lovable and intelligent were two more suggestions. Now, lovable depends on my mood. I'm sorta prickly when I'm mad, and I'm sure Husband would snort if he saw that. "YOU DON'T HAVE TO LIVE WITH HER." But of course, it's almost invariably true that when one sees the worst side to someone often, they become a bit less....lovable. And with most of our existing years of marriage having been in upheaval either by the Army or custody battles that got very angry, it's easy to see how tempers would flare and we wouldn't always be the best of friends. Intelligent....I credit that to my love of books and my high school. I've been known to read books that push me to my intellectual boundaries, to challenge my beliefs, to make me solidify my stances. My favorite non-humor, intellectual books are 1984 by George Orwell, and Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand. Atlas Shrugged is the basis of many a controversy. It's also a large book. I don't know who would be qualified to say I'm intelligent, because I know there are more intelligent people out there than me, but it stands to reason that experience, research, debate and conversation with other intelligent persons has broadened my mind a touch. 

My favorite color is green. I love penguins. I love to read and sew, and the beautiful thing about me with reading is that I'm not one of those "read it and done" people. I love to read my favorite books over and over again, and have done so. I still have a MASSIVE collection but most of the books I have have been well-loved. I've also inherited some from my mom, who IS a "one and done" reader, so I am rolling in literature, of many different genres. The Denver Broncos are my team, and have been for 17 years, even in the years when I wasn't interested in sports so much. I like to make quilts, which is good because they require a lot of sewing before you're done with just one project, and for our future, we can't hardly have enough quilts, especially for the kids' beds and snuggling in the living room during winter nights. Not to mention, my bed quilt got ruined, so I need a new one. Oh, shucks. :D 

^My current bed quilt, the one that has been ruined and must now be replaced.^

^G's quilt. It's not done because most of the way through it I was hired to make another one. ^

^The quilt I made for my niece when she was born. My first project. I made one just like it for the newborn of a friend of mine.^

^J's quilt. My best to day, finished, that is.^

^The military themed topper I made that was a gift from my grama. I haven't finished it, because, again, other projects have occupied my time.^

^The one I've been hired to make, as it stands. Obviously it's not done, but it is a work in progress. ^

There are things I'd love to get into, but can't, either from money, time, resources, or lack of interest from everyone else in my house. I'd love to get into some form of interior decorating but I don't see that happening. I love to be crafty. I'm also a grammar and spelling Nazi, so watch your literary steps with me. If I don't say something, know that I'm going crazy and ripping my hair out in my mind.

Contrary to my title, I don't like cats. I think they're jerks. They're obnoxious and about all they're good for is catching rodents and being soft. I'm not exactly an animal lover, but I'd take a dog over a cat any day. I have a dog, Apollo. He's something else, to put it mildly. He's currently living with, and driving nuts, my in-laws. He needed to be out of the tight confines of almost everything in TX because he's a golden retriever. So we will take him back when we move home in 3 months.

I'm usually up for mild adventures. Roadtrips are my favorite; I love driving and listening to music and getting to see new places and people. I've been on a cruise before, and out of the country on 3 separate occasions, not counting the jaunt over the USA/Canada border at Niagara Falls. 2 of those trips were mission trips and one was the cruise, and all were in high school. 

My biggest weakness is my self-esteem. I have none. And it doesn't take much to poke it with a red-hot fire poker, because I'm a woman and so therefore I naturally can interpret many things as insults or teasing. I can be very sensitive, especially towards the people I love most. But if I make up my mind that I am rubber, nothing you say can hurt me. I have as of yet managed to make up my mind in that way against family and certain close friends. When I was young I HATED when people laughed at my antics; I'd yell at them and run away to cry by myself. No more. I feel better if they're giggling at me while I'm in a good mood. I have no idea how that happened. 

The best way to get me mad? Shush me. Or insinuate that I'm a bad mom. Depending on who you are or how well you know me, that's a good way to get some verbal whiplash. Sometimes I'll be quiet and walk away (I'm trying to do that more and more, because when I'm mad my self-control switch shuts down and gets stuck), but if that's not an option, it might be best to hold your tongue. 

Were I to go back to school, I have NO idea what I'd study. I'd basically get a "just in case" degree, to be used in case something were to happen to Husband and he became incapable of financially supporting us. Otherwise, I've fallen into the mindset, and content heart, of being a stay at home mom. Maybe I'd take some cooking classes, to get better at that, but I'd also like to take classes on cooking in an older fashion. My goal for my life is to situate it in such a way that if it was the end of the world as we know it (yes, I'm singing the song), our daily routine wouldn't change very much. Maybe I'd take to carrying more, and being more aware of looters or other some such emergency, but I don't want to be so reliant on technology that if S were to HTF, I'd be up a creek without a paddle. My ideal would be to get comfortable doing the hard stuff while the going is still easy, so if/when the going gets tough, I'm good to go. I'm not there yet but I'm getting closer. I've taught myself how to make hand-kneaded bread and it's all we use, now. I have my own sourdough starter, that I made, instead of being given one or buying one. I am trying to make quilts quickly so that I don't have to worry about hand-sewing because that's a nightmare and a half. I'm very excited to learn new skills that aren't new at all; more or less, forgotten, ignored, progressed past, etc. Maybe I just REALLY liked the Little House On The Prairie set and secretly wanna be Laura Ingalls? Maybe. 

I'm not what you'd call a simple person. I'm a woman, for crying out loud. Even women can't understand other women all the time, not even themselves. But that, at least, is a bit of Amy 101, something that helps you understand a bit about me, why I do what I do, and why I am who I am. 

Carpe Diem

Lately the grass has been greener on the other side, and I can't stop staring over the fence at it. I mean, My grass is pretty green too, and there's a garden here, but it hasn't stopped me from staring over the fence wistfully. I have a nasty habit of following rabbit holes on Facebook. I see a post from an old friend, likely from school, and I decide to check out their profile, see what I'm unaware of. Before I know it, I'm years into my scrolling, wishing I'd made different choices so I could have had a chance at the kind of adventures _______ had. And then I'm sad the rest of the day, thinking of everything I missed out on. On the opinions people must have of me.

I'm missing out, therefore, on the beauty that is my own life. There have been some seriously ugly things in my life, but aren't there in everyone's? In a few months Husband, J and I will be moving home to the family farm that Husband is set to inherit, and we will carve out a happy, peaceful, healthy, wholesome life for ourselves. Our days will be full of peaceful productivity, animal care, adventures, learning. I can appreciate these things because of the chaotic pattern of the last several years of my life, of my own creation. God blessed me, turned it all around, and gave me this future, and I should be ashamed to shun it in favor of a life that was intended for and lived by someone else. And so my attitude has changed. I can't say I've stopped comparing my experiences with others, but I've learned to remind myself that God made my sordid history into a chance to appreciate what is to come.

We're going to be farmers. We're going to have a home, with J and possibly/likely more, and G will be visiting and have her own room/bed (if we have more girls she'll share with her sisters), we'll have chickens and cows and pigs, and a garden. We'll have woods so the kids can go crazy and explore. New adventures for kids, the way it should be. I've learned new skills and arts, things that have become lost in today's society. For all I know, none of this would have been possible if I'd chosen differently even once.

We each need to realize (and this can encompass some pretty hefty issues and debates, and a wide variety of those) that we are on the path we were given because it is in God's will. Each path has it's own struggle, and consequences, and circumstances, and choices, and so basing our decisions on other people, and our analyses of other lives, is, simply put, unwise. The whole "grass is greener" thing can be classified very easily: Envy. It's a sin. To be jealous of something that someone else has is not productive, and makes one discontent with the life they were given.  So me looking at old school friends' FB accounts and seeing their adventures and then spending time wistfully regretting past decisions and what I would have done if this WASN'T the path I was on only serves to distract me from this path, and what a wonderful thing it can be, what God has for me, and what wonderful things I can do on it. It's time we each start appreciating who we are as we are, instead of constantly wishing to be someone else, do something else, be somewhere else. Carpe diem, so to speak.

Judgy McJudgerson, Meet Ranty McRanterson

I have these days where I wake up, and I can just tell that it's gonna be One of Those Days. Today was one. I woke up and sat on the edge of the bed, trying to think of what day it was, and it dawned on me that I'd missed Blog Tuesday. I didn't have any topics on my mind, but I figured with a day that today was feeling like it would be, I'd have one soon enough. As the day has gone on (it's lunchtime), I was right. I know attitude is half of it, which of course is partially why I'm mad, because I feel like my attitude is a train with broken brakes. IT KEEPS COMING.

Today I am grumpy. I find that when I'm grumpy, I'm super easily annoyed. Things that normally just make me sigh are making me *headdesk* today. The dishwasher in my apartment doesn't get used anymore because it's a worthless piece of crap, but that of course means that I have to handwash...and I didn't yesterday, so guess what my sink is full of? I use the dishwasher for a drying rack for the mass amounts of dishes that stack up, because dishes are the chore I loath the most, after mopping. Today the door decided it didn't want to close, so I tried again. Nuh uh. A third time. Nope. I slammed it. And oh yay, a coffee mug handle broke. Not just a generic one, no, the one I was asked to buy as a souvenir in NM because we won't be there again for a long time, not in the same capacity we have been for the last 4 years. Awesome.

Oh, heeeeeeeeey, did you know that mac and cheese is a suitable substitute for confetti? No? Come look on my floor, let me educate you in the ways of toddler improvisation. It's a veritable minefield of yellow, squishy noodles, having been sprinkled to and fro by a delightfully entertained little boy. That same little boy likes to open the fridge...a lot....and eat sticks of butter. Or attempt to give me "subtle hints" (hint: they're not subtle) that he would like a drink by bringing me the beverage of his choice, no matter how heavy it is or how much of it he spills on his merry way to the ever-accommodating Mommy.

On these days, when I am so grumpy and it seems like Murphy and his legal team have moved in with me and are eating me out of house and home, I find myself perusing FB with an air of judgment. "I can't believe he did that." "Why did she think that was smart?" Fortunately, for the most part, I keep my mouth shut, because I'm usually of sound enough mind to realize that my sound-ness does not extend so far as to keep me from alienating people if I DO say something.

And so, here is my challenge to you. If it's one of those days for me and you hear me being Judgy McJudgerson, kindly tell me to shut my trap. I will be irritated and I will attempt to justify, and when that happens, remind me of this blog. Because here's why: these people I subject to the overflow of my bad days are my friends. Family. People I care about. If they're in my life there's a reason and most of them shouldn't be purged because I couldn't find it in myself to control my ire and said things I will definitely regret. I've done it before, and like I said, I regret it. Help a sister out, eh? Slap some duct tape on my mouth. Or tape my fingers together, as the case may be.

A Message of Love to Gay People

As a mother, I love my children. For the most part, that's to be expected, because my children were given to me, and there is a biological bond, an instinct instilled in me to love my children. I've read articles that talk about how babies are cute, and they smell good, and there's a reason for it: it's their survival mechanism. They're cute and smell good because that's a good way to convince their caretaker to continue caring for them, until they're old enough to be independent. Without us, babies would die, and so they woo us into caring for them with their adorable faces, their contagious laughter, and that precious smell.

These were...well, still are, my babies. On the left is G, when she was less than a month. I'd stripped her down because she was hot, but I wrapped her in the crocheted blanket my mom made for her, and she fell asleep in my arms. She looked so pretty, I took a picture of her. Look at that face. It begs to be loved and cared for. On the right is J, when he was less than a day old. We were still in the hospital. Such a cute little face, all wrapped up. In those days the only place he would sleep was in my arms or laying on my chest. If I laid him down he'd wake up in a heartbeat, and so we'd sit on the couch, watching TV and snuggling, for hours on end. 

Here's the thing about those two. Both have gotten older. G is a rousing 7 years old. J is 2; need I say more? Both have had plenty of time to, while still adorable, become troublemakers, and they do a fabulous job at it too. They do wrong. They get themselves into messes. I don't have a picture of the biggest mess G made because...well, it's not a picture one would take. When she was still potty-training she woke up from a nap and pooped herself, and instead of telling me, she attempted to clean it up herself. But first, she smeared it all over her bed, the carpet, a rocking chair that was in the room, and the wall, and then she used an entire pack of wipes. And she still wasn't clean. Needless to say when I went to get her, I was horrified. But, as I don't have a picture, I'll just show you a pic of her with prunes in baby-food style, smeared all over her face. 

And then there's the little turd on the right, who, this past winter, decided that he wanted some of that purple drink Mommy had spent hours making, and so he reached for the jar...but it was too heavy and it upended all over him and the floor. It was freshly made elderberry syrup, by the way. At least he didn't get sick. X said the picture made him look very much like Husband though. 

When my children do something wrong, go down the wrong path, it is my job, as their mother, to discipline them and to steer them in the right direction, so that they may please God, and grow up to be functioning adults that aren't looking for trouble all the time, as so much of society is. So, yes, I tell them when they're wrong, but I do so in love, because I love my children. I don't want to grow old and watch as my children drive themselves into a sinful, miserable life.

The same goes for sinners in the world. People who intentionally choose the wrong path because it's what makes them "happy" at the time. Now, the more I've heard the phrase, "whatever makes you happy," the more I clench my fists. Because I, of all people, know what pain can follow if you disregard God's law for "whatever makes you happy." I had sex out of wedlock. 7 years later I lost custody of the child that was conceived from that poor choice. I am not happy now. I was then. So was it worth it? Well, as with all things, God makes good out of bad, and He gave me a wonderful little girl out of a crappy choice, but because all choices come with a consequence, I am currently suffering through mine. If I could go back, I would not have done so. Because although not doing so would mean no G, it would also mean that all the years of chaos that poor girl has been through, unjustly, would not have happened. Obviously, a child isn't always the consequence of that particular choice, but there always is one, whether the person realizes it or not. STD's. Decreased self-value. Regret for lost virtue when they find the one they were looking for all along. Who knows; an abusive relationship? God set his standard for a reason. 

Now, here's where I get super controversial. The Bible is clear that homosexuality is a sin. Like every other sin, it's merely the sin that is detestable, not the sinner. Because there is no sin that is worse than another one in God's eyes, since He can see the horrible ripples in the pond for everything. They're all equal to each other. My sex out of wedlock caused a lot of crap in a lot of lives, innocent lives, so how am I better than a murderer? Sure, those innocent people are still alive, but is it better to be alive and tortured than dead? Lies, betrayal....all sins. 1 Corinthians 6:9-10 says, "Do you not know that the wicked will not inherit the kingdom of God? Do not be deceived: Neither the sexually immoral nor idolaters nor adulterers nor male prostitutes nor homosexual offenders nor thieves nor the greedy nor drunkards nor slanderers nor swindlers will inherit the kingdom of God." This is a hard verse for some in society to hear, because today's society is about "whatever makes you happy." Many people love to sleep around, to worship their belongings or a person, whatever, to cheat on their spouses or help their love cheat, to sell themselves for what they want, to sleep with someone of the same sex, to steal, to take what they want whether it's theirs or not, to get drunk, to gossip, to trick people. It gives them a pleasure of sort, and there's a reason for that: there's something missing in their hearts. The good news is, there is redemption. It's not like we commit the sin and "Oh, well, guess I'm going to hell." It CAN be like that, if the person doesn't repent and change their ways, but it doesn't have to be. 1 Cor 6:11 goes on to say, "And that is what some of you were. But you were washed, you were sanctified, you were justified in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and by the Spirit of our God." There is hope. That doesn't mean you can say "Sorry, Jesus," and go on your merry way and sinning, because at that point you clearly weren't sorry, you are still doing the same thing, so you didn't actually repent. That's just lip service, with no follow-through. When Jesus was on earth, He saved a prostitute from being stoned to death by Pharisees. Most are familiar with the story. She was brought before Jesus and the Pharisees explained that she'd been caught, and that the Law of Moses said to stone her to death. Instead of lashing back, He said, "Let he who is without blame cast the first stone." None of the Pharisees could claim innocence, so they left. John 8: 10, 11: "Jesus straightened up and asked her, "Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?" "No one, sir," she said. "Then neither do I condemn you," Jesus declared. "Go now and leave your life of sin." 

He forgave her. But that wasn't a green light to keep doing what she was doing. The point of repentance is to be sorry for what one has done, and to make an effort to change it.

Some say that homosexuals are born the way they are. I don't know if that's true or not, but I do know we were all born sinful. I also believe that some people are inclined to certain sins, and will struggle with them all their lives. But God defined marriage, for a bigger purpose than it has become today. Today, if a couple are living together, having sex, keeping a family, without being married, no one really cares, because today, marriage has become a way to exact taxes, or an arrangement for insurance benefits. Obviously, in some factions, marriage is still very important, but usually because of what their beliefs teach them. 1 Cor 7:2 says, "But since there is so much immorality, each man should have his own wife, and each woman her own husband." There's no confusion there. To continue saying that homosexuality is not a sin is simply living in denial of God's Word, and that will bear its own consequences. 

If you are gay, and reading this, and have become angry with me, I'm sorry it has upset you. To be totally truthful, though, I expect as much, because no one likes to be told that what they're doing/want to do is wrong, and will bear serious consequences. I surely didn't, but I suffered them regardless. I want you to know this: I do not now, nor have I ever, nor will I ever, hate you because you're gay, for the exact same reason that I do not hate my children when they misbehave. Their actions are not who they are, it's something they have chosen to do, and therefore it is my responsibility, as their mother, to correct their behavior so that they will be beacons of light to the world, and not a burden. Likewise, as a child of God, it is my responsibility to tell you, because He loves you, and therefore I do, when you're doing something you should not be doing. Because He loves you, He doesn't want to see you going down a road that will lead to your destruction. And your destruction may not happen while you're on earth, but the Bible is clear that you won't inherit the kingdom of heaven. I fear what that entails. And so I beg you to turn from what the Bible has clearly told you is a sin. I know it will be hard. Harder than quitting smoking, because smoking has physical ingredients that draw you in, but detoxing from homosexuality is not so simple. It won't be easy. It wasn't easy for me to return to abstinence once I confessed what I'd done, because by then I knew how good it could feel and I wanted more. 

It is conquerable, if you decide that you are going to turn over a new leaf.. There are stories out there of people who were entrenched in homosexuality, and turned from their ways. I encourage you, if any of this has touched your heart, to seek them out, and seek counsel with them. I've never been gay, so I can only tell you what the Word says and pray for you, and if that's what you want me to do I will be happy to do so, and come along side you in your battle. But as I've never been gay, I don't know what struggles will come ahead of you. I do know that Jesus CAN and WILL help you through it, you just need to be true to Him. 

John 3:16 For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him will not perish, but have everlasting life.