Truth or...

The last time I played Truth or Dare was with my kids.  It was during one of my our many summer camping nights.  The idea of the game sprung from our adult version with our friends weeks before - on another camping trip, of course.  That's what our summer was all about after all.  Camping.  Memories.  Friends.

It took a bit for the kids to get into the game.  For instance, Michael used the same dare every time.  Finally we told him he should try something new because it was getting boring.  Marie seemed to be completely embarrassed by the game and copied what everyone else was doing.  Denai was in our tent talking to Siri until we confiscated that relationship.  Later we found her half off our blow up mattress snoring soundly.

Playing Truth or Dare with our kids was a different experience from playing with our adult friends.  Something as simple as a kiss on the cheek was an embarrassing dare for Marie.  For Michael, I dared him to do silly things like lick dad's shoe or climb to the top of pile of branches that were near to us.  When it came to licking things, Michael was freaked out.  But game rules prevailed.  And he had a blast.


And that's my five minutes on the word dare.

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Guilt or Conviction?

Ugh.  I'm pretty sure God is trying to "help" me grow and become a "better person."

I say this sarcastically because I'm not liking it.

It stinks. It's difficult.  And frustrating.  Plus annoying. This growing stuff plain stinks and won't go away.

Almost daily I'm contemplating just walking away.  I self-righteously feel like it would be a ballsy move that I would almost be justified in making... Except for the fact that when I think about it I feel a pang in my heart. Conviction. 

Ah, conviction.  How sweet and unassuming you begin.

First, it's knowing in my head; but I can easily ignore that.  Feelings are much more fun to deal with. "Fun."  HA!

Second, that head knowledge starts to infiltrate my mind even AFTER I decided to ignore it.  (And that's just plain rude.)

Then, I let the head knowledge simmer just a bit.  Just enough to acknowledge that I know what I SHOULD do and should NOT do.

Sometimes I make good choices.  Sometimes not so good ones.  This is when guilt tries to come into play; but I do know that guilt is not how God works.  God works in the love and grace department while satan's ambitions are to make us feel all the more worse - and this usually results in more bad choices.

So by grace the guilt is removed and replaced by Godly conviction.

Godly conviction is the urging to do what I don't want to do even though I know it's the right thing to do. Godly conviction doesn't condemn. Instead it reminds me of the goodness of God and that it's something to be shared. 

So here I am.  Conviction is painted all over the place. I'm going to do my best to make the right choice today.  And hopefully I will choose to make the right choice again tomorrow.

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.

Long Wasn't So Long

It's not edited.
It's imperfect.
In fact, I think I accidentally wrote too long by about two minutes. So sorry. I just had to finish the story.

We went into the Sprint store two weeks ago in high spirits.  They  had one iphone 6 plus in and it was going to ours!  Or, mine, to be accurate.  We decided to spend the big bucks and do the big upgrade for me now and do his later when it was time for his upgrade. 

So we get there and yes!  They still have one phone left.  Just. For. Me. 

Then we found out Mr. Sexy could get his upgrade at any time.  Cool... But couldn't afford that.  It worked well to space it out by four months. 

Then Sprinters worked their magic and - poof - I had the new phone and we ordered Mr. Sexy's.  For one third of what we were expecting to pay for just one phone. 

Magic, I tell you.  It's magic. 

Mr. Sexy was prepared to wait at least four long weeks for his new toy while I enjoyed every minute of mine. 


A week and half after visiting Sprint, he got THE phone call.  

His long wait was over.  It wasn't even that long!  In fact, his phone came in faster than others who ordered before him.  The Sprinters said they didn't understand.  

For us, it was magic.  

We had spent a long time thinking about the upgrade.  Would the plus be too big?  OMG IT BENDS!!!!   But really? 

Every singe person who has held my phone made a comment about how it was a good choice because the 6 plus is just too big.  Then I tell them they are holding a plus.  Isn't that funny?  It's really not as big as people think. 

Also, it does bend.  With enough pressure in the right spaces, anything can bend.  Even the iphone 5 had comments about bending.  But hey, I'm not going to be bending my phone!  I won't be running it over with my car either.  

There is something so silly about technology.  We all have opinions that are near and dear and there is no other right one.

The Karev Issue

Feeling rejected is the worst.  Especially when it's from someone close.

For me, it was my husband.

I didn't know that's what I was feeling in the moments, though.  I did feel angry and my body language said that much.  But it was late and Mr. Sexy was tired so he gave up and went to sleep.

I stewed for a bit.  Then decided to ask myself, why? What has happened to make me feel angry? 

Hurt was the next emotion that came to mind.  I was feeling hurt.  He went to sleep, after all.  He went to sleep when I wanted to snuggle and kiss on him.

He rejected me. 

Now it's time for some background:

Over and over again I have to learn that sometimes my body language alone does not get my point across to him. Sometimes I have to be a little bit more aggressive.  Sometimes I have to actually say what I want - out loud.  Weird, right? Yet, this is my struggle.

What if I tell him I would enjoy some intimate kissy-face and he declined? 
What if I was more aggressive and he shrugged me off? 
What if...?

These insecurities were not bred from my relationship with my husband.  They were bred from the relationships preceding my husband. 

As Mr. Sexy fell asleep and I struggled with feeling hurt, I dug a little deeper into myself.

When has hurt me in this way? 

Answer: He hasn't.

So why the struggle?  The same struggle for three years?

Fact is, this hasn't been a struggle for only three years.  It goes deeper and wider than that.

As I was deeply thinking all this through, I had Grey's Anatomy re-runs on.  I love that show.  I love almost everything about it.  Because I love it so much, I have gotten really into the characters.  This particular episode revolved around Alex Karev.

Alex Karev has a history of putting up walls that make him appear as something he is not.  When he finally lets someone get through, what they find is a very sensitive person who feels deeply and loves passionately.

I decided that I am a bit like the character Alex Karev. For many - even for members of the family I grew up with - what is seen are the walls I build around myself.  I am labeled as defensive, hard to talk to, unteachable, rude, and I'm sure there are more. So when that's what others see and they tell me so, that's what I start to see as well.

Thank God I have a husband who is able to penetrate those walls and see somebody different.  Somebody he really, really loves.  Somebody he sees as beautiful, loving and caring.  I do put walls back up for him from time to time.  But he knows.  He always knows.  While it isn't easy for us to get past those walls, we are able to do it.  Together.  He sees the me God created me to be. 

God is working on these walls.  He is teaching me that in Him, there doesn't need to be fear. While there will be pain, there will also be joy.  But until I'm willing to stop building, it doesn't look like I will get to experience the joy that only comes from God.

Restore to me the joy of your salvation, and make me willing to obey you. 

Psalms 51:12

Scared Naked

BOOM BOOM BOOM

It sounded far away through the orange plugs in my ears.

I reached my hand out to touch Mr. Sexy as I often do through a sleepy haze in the middle of the night.  There is something so comforting in touch whether it's a foot wrapped around his leg or my hand lying on his chest.

Instead my hand fell straight to the mattress.

Wow, it's already time for him to get up for work?

But wait, no...that can't be right...

I'm pretty sure today is Saturday. 

Yes!  Today is Saturday.  He should be sleeping next to me and we should remain so until the sun is well in view and the kids are taking turns jumping from the new bunk bed.

Then I realized I heard voices.  But the TV wasn't on.

I'm so confused.

I took out my ear plugs and could hear loud male voices.  One was Mr. Sexy and he sounded...different. Nervous, maybe even a little scared.

Who was the other voice?

It must be our roommate.  

Our roommate!  Something terrible and awful must have happened for him to come back like this!  (He stays with us Monday nights through Thursday nights.)

WHAT IS GOING ON!!!

Then I began to understand some of the words.

"Where is your wife!  We need to see your wife right NOW!"

Now it sounded like a cop.

CRAP.

They're coming to get me! Who would have called them out here in the middle of the night?!?!  I haven't done anything wrong!  At least...I don't think so...

"My wife is sleeping."

"We need to see that she is okay, sir!"

Wait, what?

At this point I ventured out of the bedroom.  (Mr. Sexy later told me NEVER to do that again.  If it had been different, like a murderous hobo, I just put myself in harm's way.)

What I found was: (Don't laugh...ok, laugh a little.  We do.)

Mr. Sexy and his wild sleepy-time hair wearing nothing but boxer shorts and squinting his eyes at the cops.

Cops.  As in plural.

Three cops stood in our doorway, with flashlights out and hands ready to grab their weapons if needed.

What. The. @#$%.  (Pardon my french but seriously.  What. The. You know what's next.)

According to Mr. Sexy, seeing me seemed to confuse the cops and calm them down all at the same time.

I was squinting, too, because somebody thought all the lights needed to be on.  But at least I was wearing clothes.

They asked urgent questions such as:

"What is your name?!"

"What is your phone number?!"

"Is this 456 Parrot Road?!" (I totally made that address up for the sake of crazy internet people.)

They finally relaxed and decided the domestic phone call that had been cut off did not come from our house.  I'm not gonna lie, I was wondering who called 911 in duress from our house.  I sort of thought it could have been Michael...but honestly, that makes no sense now, in the daylight of things.

The cops took off to try the next house on our road - there are only three.

They didn't even apologize.

All we could do for a few minutes was sit on the couch and stare at each other.  I was shaking a bit.  Waking up to cops on the verge of breaking down the door is not normal for us.  But, we are the Sexy family.  Strange things do tend to happen to us.

We don't know what happened after that with the search for the domestic situation.  We hope everything is ok.  Mr. Sexy said he actually appreciated their hostility because had we been that phone call, hostility from the cops would be warranted. Mr. Sexy was almost surprised he wasn't jumped right away.

I bet they were surprised to see such a sexy naked man.

Does anybody else have similar stories?  I would love to hear them.

Now Mr. Sexy and I chuckle when we think about it.  It's crazy.  Absolutely insane.  And now I know: Don't come out without my husband telling me it's okay because what if next time it's a crazy burglar hobo with nothing to lose?

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.