Consequences in Action

I love this kid. 

He's funny, energetic and is the highlight of the room. 

But he has another side. 

 First grade has been full of learning curves for Michael and for Mr. Sexy and I as his parents.  The parent-teacher conference we recently had brought a few things to light. What Mr. Sexy and I thought were minor issues at home were actually larger issues at school.  The past six months or so have been crazy for us.  But what's new?  However, I realize I have let Michael's behaviors fall to the way side more than I think I ever have.  Now we are seeing some of the effects. 

Michael is having a difficult time staying on task at school.  When he is on task he does his work slowly, meticulously.  If it's not perfect according to his standards, he is unhappy and will do it over if possible.  This behavior has caused him to not finish his work on a regular basis.  When asked to move on, I was told he cries about it.  Just about every day he cries.  (Yeah, my kid is THAT kid these days.) Up until very recently he was told to stay in during recess to finish his unfinished work.  Since he has told me how much he enjoys staying in, I have asked his teacher to send unfinished work home as homework and to force him outside to play.  I'm told even getting him out the door has been a struggle. 

Michael does have difficulty staying on task, even at home.  When doing something as simple as cleaning his dinner bowl, it can take him anywhere from 5-30 minutes.  This is with just about every task he is asked to complete.  

Now we set a timer for every task.  He can see it.  He can hear when it goes off.  Sometimes he gets his stuff done.  Other times, not even close. 

And that brings us to this morning. 

Michael has a timer for every step in his morning: Making his bed, getting dressed, making his lunch, eating breakfast, getting himself ready to go out the door.  Every day seems to bring a challenge but this morning was especially challenging. 

He couldn't find anything to wear. 

That's not an abnormal problem for anybody.  I understand this problem!  But, when push comes to shove, I always find pants and a t-shirt - even if I have to dig through the dirty laundry.  Lucky for Michael, I found him two pairs of pants and two long sleeve shirts last night and I told him so.  Yet this morning he came down stairs wearing Marie's jeans over his pajamas with a sad face saying, "Look!  These won't fit!"  That was our first clue the morning would be rough. 

Mr. Sexy and I have been working hard on making Michael think through problems for himself.  For some reason this has been a monstrous struggle for him.  (Well, I have my theories...there are two sets of parents in his life - but I won't go there...yet.) So of course, this morning Michael had an opportunity to look for pants and a shirt.  

Apparently there were none to be found.  His timer went off and his opportunity to get dressed passed.  On to breakfast.  Well that timer ended and he hadn't quite finished eating either (Denai took care of that later). At that point he had 12 minutes to get himself ready to go out the door.  Most of that time was spent wandering aimlessly around looking as though the entire world was against him.  As Mr. Sexy and I were up and about we noticed several pants and shirts scattered on his bedroom floor.  Yet Michael remained in his pajamas, every once in a while whining about not having any clothes to wear. 

That 12 minutes was stressful.  Do we send him to school in pj's?   How is that appropriate?  Do we give him clothes with a lecture?  That obviously hasn't worked in the past... Should we physically dress him like we do Denai?  As Mr. Sexy and I quietly discussed what to do we kept coming to the main point: He has clothes.  For some reason he is choosing not to see them. 

He needed to be pulled up short and sudden, as Marilla Cuthbert would say. 

 Our conclusion was painful for me.  But it was the right one.  Twelve minutes passed and we told Michael it was time for his shoes.  He would be attending school in his pajamas.

A conniption fit ensued.  He was almost carried to the truck this morning.  Almost.  

After they left I called his teacher and explained our morning.  Let's just say I LOVE HER.  She understands the concept of Love and Logic and supports it fully.  It was good I called so she would know and understand why Michael was in his pajamas and why he might be particularly upset.  His teacher also encouraged me in my efforts and even said, "You will win this.  Just stay firm a consistent.  You will win." 

So, Michael is in his pajamas at school.  I'm not sure what kind of attitude will enter the van when I pick him up.  But today's consequence was needed, as painful as it was for all of us.  

I Am...

Mrs. Sexy.

And we are the Sexy family. 

I'm sure this name makes some people uncomfortable. Some don't care and may even see a bit of comedy behind it.  Then there are pervs.  There are always pervs.  It just comes with having such a

sexy name, I guess.

Obviously, I use pseudo names. When I first started this blog I knew immediately what names to use for my kids. Then it was time to start talking about my husband.  Since he is obviously the Most Sexy Man Alive (he is still waiting for national recognition), Mr. Sexy was born.  After some more writing I decided, why not?  Mrs. Sexy makes total sense.  And then, the Sexy family became our family name.

I use pseudo names in order to protect my family from "trolls" or other unwanted "guests." Now, I do realize that with the name, "sexy," pervs gravitate towards that word.  When it comes to isntagram I have had to do some deleting and blocking.  But other than that, it hasn't been a big issue (knock on wood - or something like that).

I had another blog a few years ago that got a little crazy.

I learned what an internet troll is: a person who happens by your blog once, makes a judgement, and says mean things - at least, that's what I have read as the definition

However this troll took her thoughts too far.  She wrote a blog post dedicated to me for her thousands of followers to read.  She shared my blog address and any other personal information she could find.  This lead to more emails than I care to remember from strangers across the country telling me horrible, terrible, disgusting things.  The one that still stands out the most - mostly because of how ridiculous it is, is this: "You should give your daughter up for adoption."  I mean, seriously.  It made me laugh then and it makes me laugh now.  Because that's the answer to our problems.  We should give them away.  Pretend they don't exist.  Treat them like garbage.  Thanks for the heart felt advice lady!  You are going to miss out on a lot of good things in life with that attitude.

Ahem. Okay.  I'm calming down now.

Anyways things escalated to the local police being notified as well as Child Protective Services.  Our family and friends were getting nasty emails as well.  That was pretty horrifying.  In fact, because of the emails, one of my "good" friends quit talking to me.  Deleted me on facebook.  Not one word.  Although, she de-friend-ed me after sharing my struggles with her friend.  This friend whom I did not know yet lived in my town, emailed me randomly with a long LOOONG story about her own plight with a child with disabilities.  It ended with her kid dying due to a seizure and she felt guilty because she was having a hard time with her kid... Moral: Always give advice to perfect strangers via facebook message because that is the best way to offer a helping hand.  Do you hear any sarcasm dripping from those words?

Wow.  I need to calm down!

So, there you have it.  I use pseudo names and am very protective of where we live.  So far, there have been no trolls on this blog.  But if they do happen by, we will be somewhat more protected.

Caring is to...

Here is 5 minutes of unedited writing on the topic:

Does anyone else struggle with caring for other people? 

What about those closest to us?  I don't mean the gushy closeness.  I'm talking about proximity. 

The one(s) we see every day - or nearly every day - and just being in the same room can be ... difficult. 

For me, there seems to be an absence of love. 

I think that's the point of all this, though. 

I think I'm supposed to learn what love means. How it's supposed to look.  How it's supposed to feel. 

Mr. Sexy has shown me a lot over our four years together. 

But I think that with kids comes more, shall we say, opportunities to learn.  Then with Mr. Sexy and I we already had one kid each.  

We threw ourselves together.  Fingers crossed.  Hopes high.  Gushy love swirling around us. 

The gushyies don't last forever.  In fact, the gushies didn't make it past our honeymoon. 

So now, here we are, with another child added to the mix 

I'm still learning and understanding what love is supposed to look like.  And feel like.  And be like. 

And I think, that one day, I will look back the days I'm in now and say, "Ah, she was teaching me to love."

Caring, for me, about people, about those closest in proximity, has been one of my most difficult struggles.

The Day She Left Us

Today is another post written by Mr. Sexy.  He is such a hoot and I hope you enjoy reading his perspective of what happens when I leave him and the kids.  Alone.  For two whole nights. 

July 23, 2011

Mrs. Sexy and I haven’t spent much time apart since we've been married.

About two years ago I had to spend three weeks in Hawaii for the Navy Reserves. But besides a night here or there, we have pretty much been at each other’s sides…

Until this past weekend.

Let me explain:

Our church’s annual women’s retreat came around and for the first time, the Sexy family budget and the Sexy family schedule worked together so Mrs. Sexy could go.

I was stoked. Not because I wanted a weekend without the wife, but I knew that without her there to distract me, I would get things done on our house. (and of course I thought she would enjoy it)

Yes, that meant I would be taking care of all 3 kids for the weekend, but come on, how hard could that be?

Well, LET…ME…TELL…YOU…

First off, let me say that I am not the kind of man that comes home from work and slouches down in front of the television waiting for dinner to be served. I pride myself that I don’t spend all of my energy at work. So, when I come home, it's time to turn on the overdrive and see where I can help out. Cooking and cleaning are not far removed from my everyday life.

The weekend began with a drive to Mrs. Sexy’s meet-up point with a little excitement and hesitation of what the weekend would bring.  Even though the kids didn't say much as she departed, the 20 minute drive home was a somber one. The usual loud music and ‘singing’ at the top of our lungs was not on anyone’s mind.

As we pulled up to the house, spirits changed a bit with the promise of Mac-n-Cheese and corn dogs for dinner. (Only healthy eating when dad is in charge!)  While I cooked, Michael and Marie made themselves busy outside while Denai patiently waited for dinner and made it known every five seconds through her lovely wailing how hungry she was.

 Dinner went off without a hitch and only half the kitchen was covered in Denai’s dinner.

Off to bed they all went.

I spent my night restless with all the things I planned to do the next day. I knew Mrs. Sexy would be shocked about how much I got done and would love the progress made on our house.

Not much sleep that night.

Because it was Saturday the lovely little ones decided to sleep in until 6am.  I was determined to start the morning right and promptly got the kids up and dressed for the day.  I broke the news that our normal Saturday routine of free pancakes at a local restaurant would not be happening so Michael decided it was a good time for a breakdown. I didn't handle that well.

I should have started with coffee.

By 8am the kids were enjoying my version of free pancakes and eggs.  The miniature critics approved.

Now, it was time to get started with the projects.

My goals:

-        Detail clean the Kitchen

-        Setup up Living and Dining areas and remove all boxes

-        Setup kid’s room with bunk beds, crib, dressers and move in all kid stuff from garage

-        Clean up outside of miscellaneous stuff that accumulated during the move

-        Organize garage so we can park in it

-        Make butter

-        Find other small projects with my free time…

I sent Marie and Michael out to explore after breakfast and put Denai down for a nap.

This was going great.

I started organizing the kitchen for cleaning and put the cream in the Kitchen Aid to get the butter going.  I randomly heard cries from Denai’s room protesting her nap. With the butter going and the kitchen organized I set out to get the living and dining room cleaned out and setup.

After about 2 hours of wailing and no napping, I decided that it was ok for her to miss one nap and brought her down to ‘help’ me.

With a 17 month old running around, the heavy lifting had to stop, so I tried to entertain her and clean up at the same time. You should know, at work I am the multi-tasking king, but I guess at home that is limited to 2 things at a time…ok, maybe one.

Cleaning and entertaining her didn't go well.

It was finally lunch time and I got the kids setup for lunch. Instead of eating with them I figured I would take this time to move in the dressers and get the heavy lifting done.

Meanwhile the butter was still churning. Halfway through my Saturday and 0 tasks completed.  But it was ok. After lunch the older ones would continue to play and Denai would take a nap.

It amazes me how we can lie to ourselves.

After lunch I tried again with the nap and Michael and Marie went back outside.  I knew this was my only chance to eat so I threw a sandwich together and ate it in less than 5 minutes.

Denai wasn't having it.  The afternoon nap was a failure.

I told myself that it was fine and this would just make bedtime easier and I could get the kids room setup.  So I got Denai up and invited Michael and Marie to help with their room and bunk beds.

Spirits were high, but I was starting to get exhausted.  Every few minutes Denai was angry about something, so I put Marie on Denai duty and had Michael help me carry drawers upstairs. This worked well for the time being.  We got the dressers upstairs and started to put the bed together.

Michael wanted to help, but his way.

Denai was no longer happy with Marie.

Marie was done with helping Denai.

I was about done with the whole day.

Then, Denai fell and Marie watched.  We have seen this before and have tried to work on this with Marie, but this day I felt losing my temper was a better idea.

So, Dad was upset, Denai was upset, Marie’s feelings were hurt and Michael just wanted his bunk bed put together.

Finally, with the bunk bed put together I moved to Denai’s crib.

MISSING PIECES!

I was done. The kid’s room could wait.

The smell of sour milk and no butter after 8 hours helped me decide it was time to give up on that dream, so I just stopped the mixer and decided to clean it up later.  As dinner was rapidly approaching I realized I hadn't even thought about what to do.  So I checked the bank account, whew! We had just enough for pizza.

With a quick run to Papa Murphy’s dinner was taken care of.

We painfully chose a movie to watch and enjoyed dinner.  I fell asleep 5 minutes after finishing my pizza although Denai made sure I didn't miss a single movie moment.

After dinner, bathing and bed time commenced with no real incident although Michael couldn't understand why he couldn't sleep in his bunk bed with no mattress.

It was 8:01 PM.

On the Friday Mrs. Sexy left, I figured my evenings would consist of working hard and getting wrapped up with the day’s projects.  However all I could think about was how nice the bed sounded.

Sunday morning came too soon. I wanted to get the kids ready for Sunday school, but with the progression of the morning, I knew I would be lucky to get to the main service on time. I frantically put the house in the best order I could and got the kids ready to go.

Marie was wearing her normal everyday clothes with her hair in a quick pony tail.

Denai was wearing the same Sunday dress she wore last week.

Michael was wearing the shorts he wore on Saturday and was covered in dirt. (This I discovered as we entered the church)

I don’t even know what I wore.

During service I got a text from Mrs. Sexy saying they were headed back.

2 thoughts…

YAY SHE IS COMING HOME!

I didn’t even come close to completing my project list.

Who cares?

YAY SHE IS COMING HOME.

Before we picked her up we had a few more temper tantrums by all, but when we saw her again it was a big sigh of relief.

I prefaced this blog to say that I am not the typical lazy man and I do quite a bit of work around the house.  This weekend I realized how much work Mrs. Sexy does every day and how important it is to be a team without your spouse.

It may not be clear to all, but I can see the hard work she does each day and the fact that she has any energy for me when I come home is a miracle in itself.

Babe, let’s have another kid.

Disclaimer:  Mrs. Sexy did some line editing and is responsible for the pictures in this post. 

Am I ready?

I am about to write for five uninterrupted minutes on the prompt, ready.  I will re-read it when I'm done and will probably fix the silly typos I always make but I will not edit the content - regardless of how messy it feels.  I hope you like it!


The plan has always been: Have two kids together then adopt one.  That was the plan.  It is the plan...We had the one baby together.  That's Denai.  She is my favorite Denai!  She is way to cute and already "works it" with both of us to get what she wants.  Oh dear.  So, naturally, there should be another baby in the works. 

But am I ready? 

Honestly, I'm not sure I was ready for Denai.  We got pregnant because of my scheduled plans. But it worked.  I got pregnant right on schedule.  So I suppose God was in that.  So I should continue with my schedule ... and see if God honors that as well?

I just don't know.  

See, while I'm still in my twenties, well, let's just say Mr. Sexy isn't getting any younger (love you babe;).  Not that he is too concerned about age anyways.  He is awesome like that. 

I just don't feel ready for another baby like I thought I felt ready for Denai.  

I have three kids.  One I share custodoy, the other I don't but we have our issues, and then there's the baby who already battles me with a stubbrnness I know well.  

I want Denai to have a sibling who is closer to her age.  I am reminded of that when other tiny people come around to play. 

But, another baby?  Another round of diapers?  My body not being my own? Hiding the glass of wine I will enjoy over my pregnant belly? The threat of not having alone-selfish-mommy time? 

Hmmmm....

 

Gossip

It's such a cliche term, right?

At least, I used to think so.

However the past 3 years have shown me how costly a "cliche" term, such as gossip, can be.

I have lost best friends.  Yup.  That's plural.

A few of my best friends had some concerns for me and my family.  Instead of approaching me and my husband, they met in secret with each other.  They gave us an ultimatum: I leave my house or they call the cops.

Was something that drastic necessary?  No.  We were already neck deep in counseling and learning to be a family.  Did I mention yet that we had been a family for only 3 months?

One of my friends apologized (that same night actually) and saw how things took a turn for the worse.  However, that relationship never was the same.  And it pains me even today.

My other friend lied to me and my husband.  They called the cops even after I went to stay at my parent's house as they had demanded.

Have you ever felt such a violation?  In those moments of being driven away from my family by my brand new husband, I had nobody.  At least, that's what the big feelings told me.

When the cop showed up at my house he expressed sorrow to my husband for our predicament.  My family was eating dinner - without me - and our house was immaculately cleaned and ready for Marie's birthday party the next day.  The cop had no cause for concern and told Mr. Sexy how he often gets calls like these.  Calls that amount to nothing.

But my family was left in pieces.  Pieces we seem to still be picking up. 


Some time goes by.  I can't think how long.  This part is jumbled.

A blog I used to have became some sort of small internet sensation.  One person, a "troll" is what I think they are called, saw a few pieces I had written and wrote disgusting things on her blog about me.  She used my site address, my name and any other personal information she could find.  She had a very large readership.  Soon friends and family were getting emails calling me despicable names.  The cops were called and CPS became involved.

All this happened because of gossip.

Around that same time some people from my home church called my family pastor with concerns for me and Marie.

This was a church I called family.  I grew up there.  Many knew my family well.  Yet they still had the audacity to go behind my back.  Gossip.  

Again, there was betrayal and the feeling of being violated.

Church is supposed to be safe.  Church is supposed to reserve judgement.  Church is supposed to be about people.



Fast forward to right now.

My family moved away from that area one year ago.  It was a difficult move but the right one.  However I have missed my church tremendously.  So this past weekend we went to their family camp.

We had a wonderful time.  It was exactly what our family was needing.  Marie and I had many good moments together.  She talked to me and we played together and laughed together.  Family tensions were put at rest and I was able to practice letting go of control.  At times it was difficult.  But I had the support of my husband.  I had the support of my church family.

Or did I?

It seems someone has once again gone to the pastor to express concerns. 

Now, at this point, if I were you, I would be thinking, "There must be cause for some sort of concern if this keeps happening."

But really?

The betrayal.  The violation of my family.  Every single instance is brought back all at once.  

I can't breathe.  My heart is beating hard and fast.  I'm shaking and I feel nervous.

Trust is becoming a thing of the past for me.

 I have 4 friends that I can still trust with the realities of my life.  My husband is one of them.  The other is a strong believer and has been my rock over and over again.  The other two don't regularly attend church although I will pass no judgments on their religious standpoints. They are better friends than many of my Christian friends. This is my circle.  These four people have chosen to address concerns to me and my husband directly.  I know this because it has happened!  And you know what?  We are better friends for it!  

Gossip is no cliche.  Gossip tears relationships apart.  It rips up families and wears down a person.

I am feeling worn down.  I want to give up the fight.  And that is just where Satan wants me.  

But praise God my husband has recently been lifted from years and years of physical bondage.  He will tell that story soon.  But I have to mention it now.  He is now energized in ways I have not seen in a long time, if ever.  He is showing me compassion, withholding his judgments and loving me if only because Jesus loves me.

I cannot describe the pain I feel.  It's a pain that seems to continue to build each time I face the same battle.

I want the gossip to stop.  Even when it's hard.  I want it to stop.  Because this gossip shit is getting all of us nowhere.  In fact, it's a hot tool that Satan is using in your life, and now,  in my life.

The Cloth Diapering Challenge

Well, once again we ran out of money.  Literally.  We got back from the end of our family vacation time and saw that our bank account was in the red.  This type of situation isn't new to us.  We have struggled through bad decision after bad decision starting from before we got married.

Lately, things haven't been so bad.  We have been (mostly) caught up on bills for the past few months.  We also began to budget  - for real.  I say, "for real," because for a long time we didn't even have enough money to put a working budget together.  We paid what bills we could and then hoped what was left could sustain us till next pay day.

So now we can budget.  I have more than one envelope, I keep all my receipts and record what we spend each month so I can budget even better next time.

You know what's amazing?

Every time we use our envelope system, we have leftover cash.  That leftover cash always went into the savings envelope and for the first time we had some savings! Good thing because we needed it soon after.

The envelope system worked well right up until our family vacation.

Simply put: We didn't budget.  All I knew was what Mr. Sexy told me: We have plenty, let's do whatever we want.  All he knew was: Bills are paid, everything else is extra, let's have a really fun time and not stress.

Well, because we didn't sit down and look through all our bills, we missed a few.

Thus, we ran out of money.


Denai has been in cloth diapers since day one.  It's been great and I have loved loved loved not stressing about the added expenses of disposables.

However, last week her third round of staph infection flared up and it seemed to be the worst we had seen yet.  I actually knew it was coming back by the smell of her urine, but the last time I took her to the doctor, they turned me away because they didn't see it yet.  So I decided to wait this time - even though I knew what was inevitable.

In many ways I felt bad about my role as mommy to her.  The first time she got staph, I should have done more research and realized I needed to strip her diapers.  The second time I shouldn't have given up on my research and stripped them correctly.  Now that this is her third and worst round, I have decided to give cloth a break.

I now know exactly how to strip her diapers for the staph.  But I didn't want to risk anything so I wanted to get her out of cloth asap.

It was no problem.  Before we even went to the doctor we headed to Walgreen's to purchase everything we needed for disposies.  Even though we had no money, it was no problem.  We had our flexible spending card!  Perfecto!

And then we found out: all that was covered were the depends for Marie.  Apparently, diapers and wipes and baby butt cream are not covered like we thought.

It is always stressful to run out of money.  It's even more stressful when one of my kids really needs something but I am unable to provide it.  

I took her to the doctor the next day and asked if they had any diaper samples.  The doctor handed me two diapers: one that fit and another that was obviously too small.  There was no point in those so I just left them there.

While waiting for Denai's prescription, I did what I always do when the stress gets overwhelming.  I called my husband and gave him an ear full.  That's never the smartest move and a lot of times those conversations make our situation even worse.

This time, however, Mr. Sexy reassured me that we would be okay and he would find a way to get Denai some diapers.

He did it. 

An hour and a half later, I picked him up from work and we went to the local hospital birthing center.  Mr. Sexy had called to explain our situation and asked if there was any way they could help.  After verifying with our pediatrician that Denai does have staph - again - they immediately sent someone out to buy us some diapers.

We went home with 120 diapers and 16 or so night time diapers.  

So now, Denai's staph is improving.  She has been in disposies for about three days.

It's different than cloth.  For one thing, she appears much thinner.  Her cloth diapers tended to give her the
bubble butt look.  Another bonus is that I don't have to clean poop 3+ times every day.

But you know what stands out the most?

Mr. Sexy and I made another bad money decision.

Yet God still worked through people and provided what we needed.

Not in my timing.  Not in my way.

It was his timing.  His way.  His story.

So now, every time I change Denai's diaper - even when she screams because her bottom is still sore - I am thankful for the kind people who were willing to allow God to work through them and help us out.

And sometimes, even when we feel unworthy, it's still okay to ask for help.  

A Cup of Water

Some people think I have my husband wrapped around my little finger.  I guess in some respects, I do - but not in the way that so many seem to perceive.  What others sometimes see, is I say, "jump," and he responds, "how high?" This is a false perception of our relationship.  In fact, I dated a guy like that.  It turned out that having a doormat for a boyfriend got boring fast which quickly turned into annoyance and then to resentment.

Friends have told us that I am spoiled and that Mr. Sexy does too much for me.  For instance, the other night we got all snuggled in bed, ready for sleep.  Of course that's when I realized I forgot to get water for my middle of the night cravings and my terrible morning breath.  I didn't even have to ask.  Mr. Sexy was already up and headed to the kitchen.  So, am I being spoiled or taken care of?

When I start demanding things from my husband, I creep into the area of being spoiled.  It turns out that he likes to be asked to do things.  This gesture alone tells him I don't take him for granted and I appreciate what he does for me.

Believe it or not, I struggle to ask for something as simple as a cup of water.  My husband amazes me with how nice and kind he is to me.  When I tell him these things, I can see he is flattered.  Later he tells me that it's also painful for him to hear.

Let me explain from his perspective:  If I am literally the nicest and kindest man you have met, that means you have been surrounded by men and boys who are far less than who they were created to be. 

 The other night I witnessed an exchange between a husband and wife which made my blood boil.  This couple had obviously been married for a very long time as they were surrounded by close friends, kids and grand kids.  The wife seemed happy and excited to be surrounded by loved ones and cooking hot dogs over the campfire.  She stood over the high flames and asked for her husband to please come cook their hot dogs.  He was sitting a few feet away with a plate of salad.

"No way!" was his response.  To make sure he was clear, he even said it twice.

His tone, his words and the look on his face suggested indignation at such an outlandish request from his wife.

The wife, who seemed to take it all in stride, shrugged and continued with the cooking for her and her husband.

It took only a moment for their close friend to volunteer to cook their hot dogs for them.  As the friend bent down closer to the fire, the husband re-positioned as if to get up.  At least, that's what should have happened.  Instead the husband remained sitting, engrossed in his salad, while his friend cooked his hot dogs.

The part that makes my blood boil is the example he has set for his own children on how to love and take care of and cherish his wife.  Worse still: Both husband and wife seemed clueless that there was something amiss.

Perhaps the story I just shared hits close to home.  Or maybe it doesn't.  Maybe it's a normal that some say you just have to get used to.  I bet many even think of telling me, "Just wait till you have been married 20 years."

I do have a husband who spoils me.  But it's not in the way many think.  He loves me every day as best he can.  Sometimes that means getting me a cup of water in the middle of the night.  Sometimes that means pausing his dinner to help me with mine.  Sometimes that means taking the screaming baby out of the restaurant.  Sometimes it means going to a social function when what he really feels like doing is relaxing at home.

I struggle with how nice and kind my husband is to me.  I have never seen anybody treated the way I am treated.  It's a foreign idea - but it won't be for my kids.  Even now, Michael sees how his step-dad will go out of his way to do something kind for me.  Michael already makes attempts to follow in these footsteps.

I don't mean to stand on a soap box about my perfect marriage and my perfect family.  We have issues just like you.  My husband is not perfect and I have lots of stories to prove that.  I am in counseling because I can't figure out how to get over the resentment I feel towards my step-daughter.  Michael is mean to his sisters when he thinks Mr. Sexy and I are not around.  Denai is our little screamer and I already face battle of the wills with her.

We are not perfect.  But we are challenged.  Every day we are challenged.  Are you?

What Changed?

Many families can go camping - or go on a number of other activities and vacations - and have a lovely time.  Typically, I would say there is always an amount of stress involved in getting everyone and everything ready to go - especially with small children who "help" or older children who can't be bothered to be removed from personal comfort.  Yet, overall, families move on and have wonderful experiences together.  Some would even call it relaxing and peaceful.  That's why we, the Sexy family, enjoy camping so much.

Yet it's not all that peaceful and relaxing.  At least, not for me.  And if I'm feeling grumpy, for example, it plays into each family member and even effects the friends we are visiting with.

For me, family activities are tense and stressful with very little release.

Saturday night was our second night camping with our friends and I was almost begging Mr. Sexy to put the two girls to bed early so I could finally relax.  Denai was exhausted anyways but putting her to bed before the sun leaves typically proves difficult.  Marie, on the other hand, was a gem.  No signs of grumpiness there.  However, she tends to be my main source of tension these days.  So bedtime is something I always look forward to.

Mr. Sexy has been telling me often I need to relax.  WE need to relax.  But it ain't all that simple.

Something has changed between me and Marie and I have been spending a lot of time deep in thought about what it is.  A few months ago I was getting into the habit of being purposeful in my loving actions towards her, regardless of what feelings were feeling like.  The heart changes began immediately and true connection starting peeking its head out.  I saw glimpses of a genuine relationship with huge potential.  In each other we were finding small pieces of comfort and humor.

That's all gone now.  I feel as if I have gone backwards a year or so.  There are huge feelings happening to me and I am getting lost in it.

After visiting a class on spiritual warfare this weekend (read about the author, Dr. Karl Payne), after seeing the pain in Mr. Sexy's eyes every day, I have realized what it is that has changed.

I gave up.

I accepted.

I welcomed.

I have become completely complacent in my relationship with Marie.  There are two feelings at play now.  Numbness (if that's even a feeling) and anger.  I feel numb to her when she isn't around (you know, the sleeping part).  I feel angry when I see her.

I know how this sounds.  I even know what you are thinking.   I know because everything, EVERYTHING has been said to me when I begin to discuss the deep, dirty issues that life offers.  In order to put anyone's uneasy mind at rest, Mr. Sexy and I are seeking help in all avenues.  He is in counseling, we are meeting with a behavioral specialist (appointment is today YAY!), we are also seeking help spiritually and I am slowly making my way back to counseling.

I have a line from a song in my head.  I'm not exactly sure what it means, especially out of context:

Slow down, let my heart catch up to your heart.

(You can preview this song, Bethany, for yourself.)

It's playing over and over and over again.

Perhaps I need to slow down and fill my mind with the Holy Spirit.  Only through His strength will I be able to fight of those who torment my mind with all these huge feelings.

I have been thinking and talking a lot about feelings lately.  It was only a handful of years ago that I learned and realized that feelings are just that.  Feelings.  When they are good, it's awesome.  But they aren't always good.  Sometimes it's bad, like anger.  Good or bad, feelings are not to be trusted.  In my experience, feelings should not be trusted.  Period.  Unless weighed in with something else.

Fighting the feelings is exhausting work.  But hey, giving in to the feelings leaves me just as tired!  Either way, it's a battle.  So if it's going to be hard work either way, shouldn't I choose to challenge the big feelings and fight off the untruthfuls?  As I am typing this, I'm thinking, duh!  How dense are you?!  But that's no way for me to talk to myself.... or is that something else filling my mind with more hurtful thoughts and feelings?

Life is messy.  It's so messy.  Oftentimes it feels (there are those feelings again) like we are going to be lost in the storm forever.

I'm thankful for friends who can sometimes see more clearly than I.

I know it seems impossible, but you will make it through this. 

You will figure this out. 

I believe in you. 

I love you. 

These are the thoughts we should be focusing on.  

My Dad

My relationship with my dad seems to be almost non-existent at this point.  So when it comes to occasions such as Father's Day, I don't always know how to respond.  However there was a time when it wasn't like this.

There was a time when he could no wrong.

After a short period in the air force my dad found himself in between jobs.  I can understand, now, how difficult that time must have been for him.  But as a young girl, he was my ultimate hero.  I'm told I used to brag to anyone who would listen about my dad's awesome job delivering pizzas AND he always came home with the biggest pizzas I had ever seen.  It was magical to me.

My dad was the strongest person I knew.  He could lift ANYTHING.  And he didn't even work out.  Honestly, he was the equivalent to super man.

However, over time, I began to see things I hadn't seen before.  The one person that I had put on the highest pedestal I could find, was slowly starting to let me down.  It's human nature, after all.  We are imperfect people.  My dad is an imperfect father.  I'm an imperfect daughter.  It's not fair to put each other on such holy ground when Jesus is the only One who can live up to that.  Yet I did it anyways.  I kept him on that pedestal for many, many years while slowly I learned that he was no more than an imperfect human.  Perhaps that is the biggest let down.  Perhaps that is our biggest fault.

Although we have had countless red-faced, loud arguments, he still did some things right.

Once upon a time, I was his baby girl and I could do no wrong.  He called me "Muck-Muck" or "Muckleberry" (or something weird like that) and he melted just at the sight of me.  He taught me to walk and to talk.  He helped me swing and go down the scary slides.  His heart broke with mine as tears streamed down my face because of a skinned knee.  I was his first born and the only daughter he would know.  Perhaps he had put me on a pedestal as well.

I'm hard on the people that I love.  I have many expectations (see my post about this here).  It's a struggle for me to see anything but the failures - even in my private, personal life.  But the fact is that there is so much more than where we all went wrong.

 You see, my dad chose to give me life.  Not only did he give me life, he gave me a life.

 I'm all grown up now with my own family and life is pretty good - even with the ups and downs of moving all the time and broken down cars.  My dad hugged me, played with me and loved me.  He worked to provide a great home where I always had my own bedroom.  There was always food in the house and we even had pets.

All this to say: Happy Father's Day, dad.

My (failed) Expectations

Today I read a post at City Chick in the Country where she spent a few lines talking about expectations about her family.  This got me thinking.

My family is still young.  Yet my expectations of my family have already been squandered.

For instance, Marie rarely - if ever - meets my expectations.  Mr Sexy tells me all the time to adjust my level of expectation for her.  Yet I don't do that.  I don't feel like I can.  To me, it seems like that would mean she will never be good enough.  Good enough for what?  For who?  Good enough for me?  Is that my problem?

When we were getting to know each other, 2010.
Sometimes I think we need to figure out how to get
back to that place because we aren't there anymore.

Do I want Marie to be good enough to be "allowed" to be a part of my family?

As a Christian, I understand where I'm in sin.  As an imperfect Christian, I'm not quite sure how to get out of it.

I also had expectations of the family I grew up with.  My parents, my three younger brothers.  All have failed me.  Every singe one.  Over and over and over again.  (Sound familiar?) But then again, I failed them, too.  Every single member of my family have been let down by me - more than once.  We are imperfect people, after all.

The family I grew up with. 2010

I also had expectations of the picture my family would look like.  The picture in my head and the one I currently have do not match.  That was my choice, though.  I had sex and didn't use protection.  On purpose.  No, I wasn't trying to get pregnant.  I was "trying" to stop having sex with my boyfriend.  But I was a lonely, horny teenager who was too prideful to go the drugstore.  Again.  But hey, he's cute right?

Michael, 2 months old.

So I suppose, in many regards, I have failed to meet my own expectations. 

Perhaps my expectations need to change.  Not for Marie, or for my family or for the friends I have around me.  (Let's face it, friends - best friends - have not always met up to my expectations.)  Maybe my expectations need a shift toward what God expects first.  And maybe if I practice leaning into Him instead of worldly things, I will have more of a cleared up heart to accept people for who they are, where they are, even when they fail to meet all my expectations.

My family, 2014

Do It Over and Over and Over Again

I really appreciated Lisa-Jo's blog post today.  Actually, I really, really appreciated the quote she shared on her blog post today.  Sometimes I get stuck thinking that what I do should be revolutionary.  It should be different, unique, something no one has thought to do or say before.  But in 2014, that's a hard feat.  Impossible, is often a word that comes to mind.

So I appreciate Elizabeth Gilbert's words today.  It's okay I write about the same themes.  It's okay to do it over and over and over again.  Each time I seem to write about the subject of step-parenthood - this incredible journey that I am on - each time I say a few words about it, it's different.  I'm constantly growing and hopefully I'm always learning.  Today my thoughts and feelings are different from last week and can't seem to even compare to last month.

So I'm going to keep on writing and keep on talking and keep on doing.  Because the practice, the perfecting of my craft, is ongoing with no definitive end.

Some Summertime Highlights

Summer is in full swing!  Therefore, I don't have as much time for blogging.  On top of having a fun summer we are also going to be moving soon.  That means I will be getting busy (not a fun busy) sometime soon.  ALSO life happens.  Lots and lots of life.

It always takes a bit to get back into the writing mode, doesn't it?  So, I suppose I will just make a list of our recent happenings and go from there.



I held my first fishing pole, cast for the first time and that same day I caught my very first fish!

Later I overheard Mr. Sexy telling a man walking by that it was "just a baby trout."  Baby or not I was ecstatic and still am mighty proud! I really wanted Mr. Sexy to take care of it and cook it for me....but that didn't happen.  Then the car started stinking like fish...The smell is gone now, thank goodness! 

Mr. Sexy has just started counseling, we have an appointment with a behavior specialist to help us with Marie, and if things don't improve I will be seeking counseling as well.  

Some details are too intimate at this point to share so openly.  Basically, our family is under a constant state of stress, much of which falls on the shoulders of my husband.  His lack of sleep is a huge problem and only adds to the chaos of things.  Mr. Sexy is continuing with a sleep doctor, hoping to find some answers.

Camping!
This is the closest thing we have to a recent family photo.

  

I'm proficient at peeing in the woods - BY MYSELF. 

This is huge for me people.  A few months ago, the idea freaked me out.  Then, while camping in the woods, I had no choice so I squatted while hanging onto Mr. Sexy so I wouldn't fall over.  Then, in my parent's bathroom, I read their calendar which described just "how" to squat.  My parent's have a poop calendar in their bathroom.  It's very funny.  So anyways, I now pee, in the woods, by myself.  I even choose the woods over the porta-potty.  

Our most recent campsite.
The nearest porta-potty was a decent hike away.

Marie's birth mother calls twice a week and Mr. Sexy and I allow them to talk.

There is going to be paperwork signed for all this - we hope, at least.  Voldemort's attorney wants a few stipulations taken out, one of which requires Voldemort to go back to the counseling program if she wants visitations with Marie again.  Right now trial is cancelled, but if this attorney pushes this issue, trial will probably have to happen.  Read more about this under the label 'V Update.'

I'm walking, because I feel like I'm turning into a fat ass. 

If we didn't have such a steep driveway, I would be running.  That's the goal, though, to run UP the driveway.  Will that happen?  I have my doubts.  Especially since this is week two and the sunburn that is covering my back and shoulders is a great excuse to stay in bed and not move in the mornings.  

This picture is a view looking down the driveway.
As you can see, it seems to drop.
It's steep.

Random things still go wrong. 

For instance, our truck broke down a few weeks ago.  The starter went out.  So it sat in the parking lot while we ordered the part and waited.  And waited.  While we waited a tire went flat.  That was sad.  Then it wasn't flat.  A good Samaritan fixed it.  That was awesome!  Then the starter came, Mr. Sexy put it in, and apparently the truck sounds like new.  

But wait!  There's more.  We came home from a weekend of camping to find a different tire had gone flat.  Mr. Sexy drove it to the nearest gas station before work this morning, very slowly, so he could fill it back up.  Well the tire blew out and Mr. Sexy barely made it home.  So he took our mini-van to work and told me to go look at the tire because I probably haven't seen anything like it.  While I viewed it from a distance, I didn't think it was worth the walk (again, see above bold print about turning into a fat ass).

I have taken a major step back in Marie's life. 

 Earlier I mentioned Mr. Sexy is in counseling ect. Well, there was a blow up.  Most blow ups and arguments stem from two things: Marie or money.  This time it was Marie.  What began as a misunderstanding turned into something much larger.  Therefore, we are seeking help in all areas. 

Marie is a major trigger for Mr. Sexy and I.  Currently, the bottom line is that I don't feel like I can interact with Marie any longer - at least, not in a positive way.  Things had actually been going really, really well.  Until they weren't.  The thing is, I don't see what Mr. Sexy sees.  And he doesn't see what I see.  While I see Marie giggling at my stupid jokes while I'm getting her ready for bed, Mr. Sexy sees how Marie is often set apart from the rest of us.  This a long conversation that will be continued over time. 

She spends more time trying to figure out
the worm situation than actually
fishing.

Lastly, we're moving! 

This whole moving thing has been incredibly frustrating.  

First, we found out the owners are selling. 

Second, we were told they didn't want us here while the house is on the market.  That gave us two months.

Next, we asked their realator, an incredibly nice lady who has been in charge of the property, about possibly getting out of our lease early since they don't want us here anyways.

She received no response. 

Now Mr. Sexy has started getting phone calls from the owner about us showing the house which their realator isn't aware of. 

When Mr. Sexy asked the owner about possibly letting us out of our lease, it was put out like this: If we sell the house by then, sure.

Last year, when we moved in, we had high hopes and opinions of the owners and previous renteres who all happen to be related.  Our move in here was extremely difficult and we felt lied to by the previous renters for not telling us the whole story about this house.  Over and over again they said, "It takes a special family to live here." I didn't know what they meant until about a month after we moved in and there were bugs EVERYWHERE (inside, like our beds and furniture) and bees were getting in somehow daily and then the winter....To top all that off we were told we weren't to use the brand new snow plow that was sitting up here or the riding lawn mower.  WTF people.  

And NOW we are dealing with the owners who seem to be wishy-washy, underhanded and the type of people who are generally money hungry.  That's only one side, I'm sure.  But it's all I can say way over here in Idaho.  

All I have to say is: Actually, that's not appropriate 

Well, those are some of the highlights!  Perhaps I will elaborate more in the days to come.  

Driving

If I could go back to my childhood, what thing would I do now that I have missed as an adult?

Driving.  

That's my answer.

Don't get me wrong, I do plenty of driving as an adult who lives in the woods with three kids and a Mr. Sexy.  But it's just not the same as when I was 16.

When I was 16, I enjoyed driving so much!  It was relaxing, enjoyable and a wonderful break from teen-life stuff.

As an adult, driving makes me tense because I worry about the three hearts in the car with me.  I also have learned not to trust the idiocy that is other drivers or the slick roads in the blizzard of winter.

When I was 16, I turned up the radio, rolled the windows down and would cruise.  Wasting gas?  Naw.  I was getting high on life.  That is definitely not a waste.

As an adult, I drive from point A to point B and pay special attention to how quickly I'm pressing into the gas.  I have weird visualizations in my head of extra gas being used when, in fact, it's probably not. There is no more cruising around town for me just so I can feel the wind in my hair.  Plus, my kids don't like the wind in their face.

When I was 16, my car was my safe place.  It gave me a sense of freedom I hadn't known before.  For the first time, if I really wanted to, I could gas that baby up, stuff it with as many belongings as I could fit and drive away without looking back.  Did I ever do that?  No way.  I'm not actually that adventurous.  But the ability and the possibility was exciting.

As an adult, I don't have "my car."  I have a family car full of carseats and leftover snacks and lost toys. In the backseat is Michael who makes all of Denai's noises in full volume.  Then Denai starts to scream because the sun gets in her eyes.  And then Marie, who just sits and enjoys the ride.

When I was 16, I was a chauffeur and I loved my job.  If someone needed a ride I was there.  Not enough seat belts?  No worries.  I would drive extra safe...that was the intention at least.

As an adult, I'm still a chauffeur but it's just not the same as it was when I was 16.  My passengers don't like the same music as me all the time.  My passengers also get cranky and don't bother trying to hide it in order to be friendly and polite.  My passengers are also always the same, for the most part.

So, if I could go back and bring something from my childhood to my adult hood, it would be driving.  The carefree, no worries, no true responsibilities type of driving.

It Has To Be Good

Around this time last year, Mr. Sexy and I were sitting in the office of our family pastor at the church we still know as Home.  Denai was about a month old.  I remember kneeling on the floor, changing her diaper while tears were stinging my eyes because I knew.  My heart knew and finally my head knew.  We were moving.  And soon.

It was a painful realization but one I was able to come to on my own time, in my own way.

We picked our first available weekend, somehow found enough money for a hotel stay and carted the kids to a town an hour and a half away to find our new house.  Every house we looked at was a dump and appeared to be party central.  This town is a small college town which meant most houses for rent were overpriced and not taken care of.  After a long weekend we were feeling down about the whole thing.  But we had one more house to look at.  It was in a town right outside where we had been looking; a town so small it doesn't have a grocery store or gas station.  We found the listing on one obscure sight and it had one picture with a description of the 78 acres the house sits on.

Our driveway.

This was the final house for us to see.  As we drove up the steep, mile long driveway we were both nervous.  Trees and brush surrounded us and it felt like we were entering a forest and would perhaps find a shack for rent.


Instead we found our home.

It was a challenge living out here in the woods.  First, the bees were extraordinary to the point we didn't go outside until evening when we would have our evening campfire with beers on the side.  There were so many bugs coming in through the broken screens that I complained daily about it.  Sometimes even by the hour.  Then winter came and that had its own long list of hurdles.  We learned how terrible the insulation is here and how much firewood we actually needed to get through a winter using a wood stove as our main source of heat.  We had vehicles get stuck in the snow many times and once it was a 6 hour adventure with all of us hiking up the driveway in a snow storm because
 there was no way to get our mini van to the house.  That was fun.

On our way home a huge snow storm hit causing
a major accident resulting in a 2 hour stand-
still while we were only 10 miles from home.

In all that time it had been snowing so hard our
van couldn't make it up the driveway.  The end
result was putting Denai in her car seat in a sled
and all of us hiking home.  It took about 45
minutes.
But what memories! 

And now spring has arrived.  We learned the ins and outs of this life in the woods and were ready to gear up for the summer of bees and another winter of snow.  It was going to be fun because we knew what to do.

As of last week, it has pretty much been decided that the owner wants to sell this property.  Our lease is up August 1 and that's our deadline to get out.

Again, we are feeling a bit hopeless.

This house, the atmosphere, the breathtaking beauty we are surrounded in has been wonderful for our family.  Michael started to actually enjoy playing outside.  Both kids can be out there for hours, exploring the creek and the woods and there is no worry about cars or strangers walking by.  I have come to a place where I enjoy the quiet stillness that I wake up to every morning.  There is no needless running around town or pressures to be out and about in the world.

Here, in this place, God speaks to my soul and I can actually hear Him.


When we moved in we were told this house would be available to us for three years at least.  Plans changed, I guess.

Mr. Sexy and I are struggling through disappointment, doubt and fear.  However we also know that there is always hope and there is a master plan in all this.  It's stressful for both of us which means we are having difficulty trusting God.

So when I feel my stomach start to get all twisty I tell myself: This was a wonderful home and it was just what we needed.  Now it's time to embark on the next chapter, another adventure, and it's going to be good.

It has to be good.  I honestly don't see how it can be good right now.  But it has to be good.

And there are some good and fun things about moving right?  Tell me all of them!