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Under The Weather

I see the men in the suits
Making all the decisions
Choosing who fights in wars
And whose son will go missing
Another mom skipping meals
Just to keep her kids fed
Getting too tired to feel
Hoping one day it ends

But they know if they
Can keep us down it keeps them in control

I know a doctor in white
Giving open prescriptions
Doesn’t care if you die
It’s a damn broken system

That’s failed
Why is it our fault when we ask for help?
And every day I wonder

How did the world get so cold
Messed up and complicated?
Why am I here alone
And how’d I get so jaded?
Maybe I’m losing hope
And it ain’t getting better
Maybe I’m just sick
Feeling under the weather

~Eddie & The Getaway

Towards the last couple days, before the weekend, I started to feel kinda crummy. It started, when I woke up with a sore throat, and stuffy nose. I thought it was just allergies, at first. I progressively continued to feel worse, into the weekend. Adam and I went out to eat, Friday evening. He went into work, for a few hours, on Saturday morning. We had already made plans to play cornhole, Saturday night. I stayed in denial, about admitting I was sick with more than just some allergies. We hung out back, and we did get in several games of cornhole. Adam had begun to catch on to the fact that I wasn’t feeling 100%, but I insisted I was fine. Sunday morning, though, I woke up absolutely miserable. I was achy, congested, felt like an elephant was sitting on my chest, making it hard to breathe, and had a fever. My girls were all sick, too. Mj’s flags squad had been short several other kids, who’d been out sick with Covid. It sure seems early, to be coming down with this crap! We all spent Sunday laying around, recovering. I guess a little rest was all that was needed, because we’re all much better, today. We didn’t bother to test for Covid, so who knows whether that’s to blame, but if that was Covid it was fairly short lived.

Adam’s been making a whole lot of effort, to spend more time with me. It means a bunch to me, knowing he really listened to my pleas. He’s the kind of guy who always picks up his phone, when someone from work needs help, or has questions. He’s a guy who never breaks his commitments or promises, if he can at all help it. I admire and respect these things, about him. I think he sometimes just doesn’t realize when he’s overextended himself, to the detriment of his family here at home. He doesn’t even realize how neglected I’m beginning to feel. Truthfully, I also don’t mention it until his absence reaches beyond my ability to tolerate it any longer. At least, not to the extent it had gotten to. He invests his time, energy, and resources into what and who he believes in. Whether it’s business opportunities, or someone he cares about is in need, he’ll do what he can to build them up. It’s a very attractive quality. Though, once in awhile I do have to remind him how important it is that he doesn’t burn himself out, before he finally gets back to me. I try to be patient, and understanding. I know how much I do matter, to my husband. I guess I just miss him so much, when it’s been too long since he showed me I’m still his priority. I always want to be his favorite person. I’ll never forget, back when we were very early dating, he’d made an offhand comment. He’d told me something like he was, looking out for number one. Back then, that meant himself. I vividly remember thinking to myself, I hope that one day, when he mentions his “number one”, he means me. It was actually in this moment, when I realized I’d fallen for him. As hard as I fought to not catch feelings, my heart had made room for him anyhow. Eighteen years later, that man occupies my entire heart, and I’ve no doubts about who’s his “number one”. I haven’t committed more fully to anything, the way I do our marriage. That’s not to say there haven’t ever been any doubts. What’s so amazing, is that when one of us is too weak to fight for ourselves and each other, the other one has always managed to find the strength to carry us both. No matter what’s happened, we haven’t let the world tear us apart. We’ve been married for 15 and a half years, and neither of us have any intention of letting go of sharing as many years as we’ve got left on Earth, together. It’s pretty incredible, how much we’ve overcame. We’ve experienced things that break many people, but we didn’t give up on each other. I truly believe the reason I’m still standing, is because my husband refuses to let me fall. I can’t imagine how different my life would be, or even whether I’d be here at all, without him.

I wasn’t sure what I was going to write down, tonight. I sometimes just start putting my thoughts down, and what follows is as much a surprise to me as anyone else. I get to sort of untangle the knots, and sort through the jumbled mess that’s rattling around inside my head.

I have to make a trip over to Walgreens, and pick up a prescription. I’ve been waiting for the evening rush to pass, but if I spend much more time doddling, they’ll be closing up for the night.

I uploaded a recipe video last week, and also one more tonight. I’ll link those below, if anybody’s looking for some meal ideas. G’night, y’all ♥️

https://youtu.be/feSfXdLiSVI?is=QbawcwMpp8Mxt1Yh

https://youtu.be/AWauGkdMI58?is=tCiWIR-H-wSyMEAu

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Iris

And I’d give up forever to touch you
‘Cause I know that you feel me somehow
You’re the closest to heaven that I’ll ever be
And I don’t wanna go home right now

And all I can taste is this moment
And all I can breathe is your life
When sooner or later it’s over
I just don’t wanna miss you tonight

And you can’t fight the tears that ain’t coming
Or the moment of truth in your lies
When everything feels like the movies
Yeah, you bleed just to know you’re alive

And I don’t want the world to see me
‘Cause I don’t think that they’d understand
When everything’s made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am

~Goo Goo Dolls

It’s a tough thing to talk about, but I’m gonna try. For a solid year, from ‘24-‘25, Adam was my solid ground. The place I could lose the illusion of confident composure I presented, everywhere else. And, boy did I lose myself. When my cat, Buddy, died in my arms, I didn’t know I could cry like I did. Between 2024-2025, it was a million times more painful than holding my sweet cat, when he died. It was like watching a movie. It was me, and the entire cast of characters I’d known, but I was only an observer in my own life. I genuinely can’t count the times when I’d see myself clinging to my legs, rocking back and forth, desperately searching for air inside rooms it suddenly seemed to have been sucked from. I’d hear words, sounds, cries, and screams, and although I knew they came from me, it also stunned me. I’d have impulsive thoughts, that didn’t sync up with who I’d believed I was. I don’t even know when it was, or how I got there, but a point came when I realized I’d finally begun to recognize myself, again. It started small. Tiny moments, inside long hard days, when I could find something familiar. The hope I’d truly never expected to grasp again, slowly made itself known. Much like the way a snowflake can be the beginnings of an avalanche, those individual moments grew into clusters of them. Momentum takes over, and before I knew it, here I am. Looking back, time somehow sped up, while I’d have sworn it’d stopped. Remembering it now, that year’s a blur.

Today, I’ll not lie to you, or to myself. Am I somebody I’d consider “whole”? Probably not. I adamantly refuse to accept the notion that I’m supposed to be broken, though. I reject any advice that seeks to keep me down. If anything, the slightest provocation intended to push me backward, only propels me further away from that awful place. I suppose this is one of those times, where my stubbornness becomes my superpower.

The trouble is, as I’ve taken steps forward, I seem to have outpaced my husband’s. This man stayed right there with me, when I was incapable of moving. He held onto me. If he needed some more time to move through this, after I found my footing, I was determined to stand there next to him. Same as he’d done for me.

It’s been more than another year, now. For awhile, I’ve noticed my frustrations building. He appears to be comfortable, right where we’re at, but I am not. My patience has waned.

He’s got a lot on his plate, and believe me, I get that! He never runs out of work that needs doing, phone calls that need answering or making, folks consuming his last ounces of energy. I know my husband, and I sure as hell see the evidence of the hurt he tries so hard to hide. I’ve poured into him, in every way I know how to. More than anyone I’ve ever known, he’s entitled to better than he’s gotten from life. I really mean that. He ain’t perfect, but he’s sure a whole lot closer than I am! My objections, to his hesitation in accepting his true worth, are absolutely valid. I’m certainly not the only one who knows so, either.

This weekend, I made a decision. Adam rarely internalizes gentle suggestions. He misses the subtle hints I make. He’ll do anything for me, but fails to understand that what I need, right now, is him. Not his body. Not his money. Him. The man whose attention I didn’t have to constantly compete for. The guy who wouldn’t have tolerated the bullshit, even and especially from himself. Who never let excuses reduce his expectations. Most of all, his own. I ripped off the “bandaid”, and I did not mince words. I told him, I don’t want to fight with you. I don’t want to hurt you. Honestly, I’m not even confident that another conversation will make any difference, but I have to say it. I’m bored as fuck. I’m sick of begging you to want to make time for me. You come home, and you become a damn zombie. I know your friends all act like they’re 80, but I’m not ready to sit in a stupid rocking chair and wait to die. We’re basically roommates who sometimes fuck. Most of my friends are single, and crazy, and they act like it. I’m so protective of our marriage. I won’t go to the concerts, or the bars, with my friends, because I know how badly I’m craving the attention you’re not paying me. I’ve got zero interest in any other man, but I’m also scared of even the possibility of one weak moment, when somebody else makes me feel something. No more bullshit excuses, about how much you’re taking on at work, or padding bank accounts. You’ve worked more hours than this, and harder actual labor, but never forgot about me.

After listening to his responses, his assurances that everything he does is for me, and repeating how much he loves me, I said I know you love me, but I need to know you still like me. I need you to make time for me. To miss being silly, and laughing, and talking. I’m not talking about having to intentionally pencil me into your days, either. We can’t just schedule a deep conversation. We can’t decide whether we’ll spend an hour talking, laughing, dancing, making out, or fighting. Those things have to happen organically!

He wrapped me up in his arms, pulled me into his chest, and with a noticeable lump in his throat, he told me I was so right. He apologized, as he swore all he wants to do is make me happy. I stepped back, to look into his eyes, and asked him, Don’t you get it, though? All I want, is to know I make you happy. I’m not asking you to drop everything for me, all the time. I just want to see you making an effort to hang out with me. I don’t want to be tolerated, or placated. I want you to like me, and to miss me as much as I’ve been missing you.

He promised he heard my words, and would do much better. I sure do hope that’s true, because I so badly want to be more than an obligation. I’m tired of sharing so much of MY HUSBAND with everyone and everything else. Least of all, people and things that don’t deserve the space they hold.

Featured

Get A Little

Counting down the days to Friday night
By the end of the week
I think I’ve earned the right

To get a little drunk, get a little stoned
Catch a good buzz to my favorite song
Go a little crazy, get a little numb
Raise a glass, and bang my head to the beat of the drums

~Wayland

Yesterday, I picked up Mj, and we went for our Friday afternoon “coffee date”. It’s been our thing, my girls and I, to make a trip for coffee every Friday. We stopped by the grocery store, and got stuff to make Fiastadas. On our way home, this song played on the radio. It’s one we’ve often jammed to, on our backyard guitar playing nights. I sent this video to my dad, his girlfriend, and my sister. We’ve all got a group chat that we text each other in, pretty much daily. Our conversation went as follows…

**My dad’s the world’s biggest smart ass lol**

For the record, I never wrecked my dad’s truck. When I was 16, he’d just bought a really cool new pickup, and he let me drive it out one Friday night. On my way home, a mama and baby deer ran across the highway. I hit the brakes, and literally just as it came to a stop, it did that little lurch forward from the momentum. I knocked the baby deer down, but it got right back up and ran off. It was completely unharmed. However, it slightly dented in his front license plate. He intentionally left it that way, and has always teased me about the time I “totaled” his new truck. 😂

I had to drive Mj to flags practice, at 6:45 this morning. Adam went into work for awhile, and then came home and worked some more. We’re going to have some grilled hotdogs and brats, for supper, so this afternoon I made some potato salad and deviled eggs to go with. I recorded that process, if anybody’d like to see how I make those. I’ll link it, at the end of this blog post. When Mj’s practice was over, I picked up her and her friend. She’s having a friend over, to spend the night. They asked me to drive them over to the bookstore. So, I brought them over there. I’m figuring they’ll be calling for me to come bring them home, any minute now. She’s at the age where it seems like I’m just constantly chauffeuring her places. I swear, there’s at least somewhere to bring her, pick her up from, or both, everyday! I love it, though. Usually, anyhow. It makes me happy, spending time with any and all my babies. It also means the world to me that they want to hang out with their mama, too.

I’m hoping I can talk Adam into playing a few games of cornhole, with me, later tonight. It’s a fairly laid back weekend, here in our house. Which I think is honestly just perfect!

Here’s the link to my deviled eggs, and potato salad 🙂

https://youtu.be/886K8DyEHcc?is=OLEZ4_AoNmIGXXtO

Living Proof

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my old recurring dreams
are few and far between
cause I don’t get much sleep, and you don’t haunt me anymore

were you ever really here

my coffee’s getting stronger
my hair is getting longer
one heart now broken into two
when I look in the mirror
I see a foreign figure
[she] and I have a different point of view
were you ever really here
was I dreaming you
I’m the evidence
I’m the living proof

~Silverada

I’ve sorta wavered between this desire for openness, and my internal struggle to trust. Life’s been super busy, but not with things that particularly usher in any negativity. It’s hard, because I’ve got plenty of people around me. I have friends and family, who care. I’ve just built certain specific “boxes”, that I hold all my relationships inside. There are my own arbitrary boundary lines, and I haven’t been able to allow those to be crossed. Some have been peripherally connected to me, for a long time, and are mostly aware of the changes that have occurred, over time, in my life. Some only have vague cliff notes. Highlight reels, of the most important things, but no details. There are so few, who see and know all of me. Who understand me well enough that words don’t necessarily need to be spoken between us. Adam knows me better than anyone else. As much as I do share with him, it can still be difficult. Not because he judges or scolds me, for baring my heart to him. It’s just that, he always wants to “fix” my “broken” parts. If I’m having a tough day, his instinct is simply to make things better for me. I love him, for that. He’s an amazing protector and provider! He thinks like a man. Like a good husband does, for his wife. I’m not always bringing my struggles, my problems, my fears to him, because I’m asking him to take them on. I don’t expect him to sort out and put together every puzzle piece that’s rattling around in my mind. Often, those are things I need to solve, or process through, myself. Part of that internal processing requires bouncing my chaotic thoughts off someone I can trust them with. It helps me to understand what, why, and how I’m feeling. I suppose this has gotten much more challenging, as time has continually shown me how much of the safety and security I’d believed in, had only been an illusion. I’m afraid, because I’ve been taught how unexpectedly, at any given moment, my world can collapse. It’s this uncertainty that halts real meaningful faith in the sturdiness of any ground I’m tempted to plant myself on. For this reason, I can’t allow myself to grow roots. So, I don’t stay anywhere for too long. I won’t give myself fully to anything, or anyone. It sucks, to admit it. I hate that my naive “innocence”, in so eagerly giving my all to others, has been lost.

I’ve begun to recognize how unhealthy it is, to remain so closely guarded. I explained this to my husband, using SSRI’s as an example. I’ve taken them, in the past, and I honestly despise them things. While they can be useful, in helping me up from the depths of depression, they also hinder my progress. There’s a point where I sort of reach a plateau, and SSRI’s make it impossible to continue on my journey to recovery. Not to mention, they virtually extinguish my sex drive. I guess I’m seeing how my attempts to protect myself, are also preventing me from forming the very relationships I so badly crave. I’ve avoided some people, who’ve done nothing to deserve it. On the bad days, I’d worry I might open myself up too much, and wind up getting hurt. On the good days, I’d worry my confidence could lead me to overestimate the strength and security of those relationships, and I’d wind up getting hurt. With some friends, when I sense us growing closer, I pull way back. Sometimes, when I’ve regretted sharing more than I intended to, I just bail. I’ll ignore phone calls, and leave texts on read, without any reply at all. Maybe I really am sparing myself more heartaches, or perhaps I’m pushing away people who genuinely care for me. It could be a bit of both. I’m not quite sure how to even begin to break down those barriers I’ve created, between myself and everyone. It’s a whole lot easier in theory, than it is in practice. I actually quit seeing my therapist, awhile ago, for the same reasons I’ve ghosted everybody else. We were getting way too close to the most painful and vulnerable parts of me. Like a coward, I left without any warning. I am self aware enough to know, acknowledging these challenges is a huge step towards making positive changes.

On that note…

We spent last weekend in Knoxville, with Mikayla. Adam got her new washer and dryer all hooked up. He leveled her fridge door, so it’d close right. We went out to eat, and took her to Trader Joe’s, and then we stocked her new place with groceries. My favorite part, was the evening we spent out by the pool. Her apartment complex has an awesome outdoor space!

I also uploaded a new recipe video, for anyone who might be interested.

https://youtu.be/tqiEAVtc_OI?is=F2g4xbVXF-gW3lY5

In spite of all the crap that still needs sorted out, in me, there’s also a whole bunch of happy being found. There’s plenty of goodness, and it’s making me stronger, everyday.

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Footprints on the Moon

It’s Everest, I know
It’s impossible, you’re too young or too old
That’s what they tell you
So that’s what you tell you too
So the light, it fades
When you figure out the rules, they change
When you touch it in your hands, it’s sand
Slipping through, but the truth is

Everybody says that you can’t ’til you do
Standing there, staring at the mirror in the room
Tell yourself “One more day, one more day, one more shot”
The voices in the night, in your head
Yeah, they’ll pay you to quit
They’ll tell you that it’s hard, ’cause it is
But you can do anything, anything you want to
There’s footprints on the moon

~Gabby Barrett

I’m running out of time to write much here, tonight. It’s been another busy day. I had an appointment, in Nashville. When I got back home, I made monotonous phone calls, and then I put on some music. I got a lot of housework done. Mj’s been busy, with lots of days of flags practice. School officially starts back, next week. How did another Summer come and pass by, so quickly?! I’m taking her school shopping, tomorrow.

While I was cooking supper, I got to thinking about some things I’d been wanting to talk about. I uploaded a video, and it’s posted on my YouTube channel now.

https://youtu.be/3TQ6kyuLC2o?is=I0Q3rDEZ20N5VgLK

Other than all that, I don’t have a whole lot else to say. I’m going to put “I Love Lucy”, on the TV, and work on some craft projects. I’ve got just about an hour, before it’ll be time to hop in the shower with Adam, and then get ready for bed. Goodnight, y’all. ♥️

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Something in Your Mouth

Crafty little lip tricks, tattoos on her left hip
She’s bending as you’re spending, there’s no end to it, so baby come on!

You’re so much cooler when you never pull it out
‘Cause you look so much cuter with something in your mouth

~Nickelback

A few days ago, my husband asked me what’s on my mind. He’d noticed I was more quiet than usual, and became suspicious. I assured him, I’ve done nothing wrong, and wasn’t keeping anything from him. I explained, something just felt off. I couldn’t determine why I felt that way, though. I told him, “I don’t know. I guess I’ve detected a disturbance in the force, is all.” That description made him laugh. I couldn’t put my finger on it. I checked to see if my period was coming. Sometimes my hormones get screwy, right before it, but nope. When Adam pulled me into his arms, kissed me, and promised I had nothing to worry about. We were good. That gave me an instant relief, and was when it occurred to me my upset was likely simply a result of missing my husband. He’s been working, a LOT, the past few months. I added up his hours, for the week prior to this one. Not even including his drive time, he’d worked nearly 70 hours in just that week alone. It leaves us little time together, and he’s functioning on like four hours of sleep, everyday. I absolutely appreciate all he has, is, and would always do for us. He provides this beautiful life for his family, and affords me privileges not available to just everyone. He does what he does, to make sure we’re taken good care of. Knowing all of this, I try hard to never nag him about his work/life balance. To him, his work is a willing sacrifice he makes so that I don’t have to worry, and can remain comfortable and secure. Still, I can’t help but miss him. He’ll come home from a 15 hour workday, and never fails to make time for me. Even before he changes his clothes, or sits down, he’s in the kitchen with a kiss, asking me to tell him about my day. He’s happy to spend time with the kids, too. I’m one damn lucky woman.

That night, as we settled into bed, I rubbed my fingers along his rough hands. I traced up his forearms, and over the bulges his muscles create, on my fingers path up to his neck. Adam reciprocated, doing the same dance across my body, using his own hands. Before long, we were both naked. He was gentle, and I understood his efforts to reassure me of his love, as we made love.

The following evening (last night), as we stood together in the shower, he continued to “pour into me”. He did his best to remain alert and present in the moment, with me, in spite of the exhaustion I was sure he dealt with. As we were about to cut off the water and get out, he grabbed hold of me, and gave me a long kiss. I pushed him up against the shower wall, and dropped to my knees. I was eager to pleasure my husband, with my mouth. His body responded, promptly. He ran his hand through my hair, brushing it from my face, and then gripping hold of it at the base of my neck. His other hand reached to fondle my breasts. Soon, my tastebuds alerted me of his impending eruption. I kept going, until finally he pulled back on the ponytail his hand held my hair into, gently forcing my mouth to let go of him. He knows my limitations. I’m neither a swallower, nor a spitter. I didn’t gag once. Which is an accomplishment if I’m being honest, but if there’s one thing I just cannot do, it’s let him finish inside my mouth. I tried, once. Throwing up on my husband’s dick isn’t the sexiest thing I’ve ever done. So, that was the last time we did that.

It had been months, since I’d given my man a blowjob. I felt bad about it, but dammit I’ve got needs too. I recognize my nympho tendencies, around him, but I can’t help myself. I always want him to fuck me. Sometimes, I do also need the sweet lovemaking. He’s just soooo good at giving my body that euphoric ecstasy it craves, from him. Only from him. I’d never been like that, before. He brings out these animalistic desires, within me. He is so danged good at being a man.

I’m horny, again. I hope he doesn’t get home late, tonight.

American Nights

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Pray the morning don’t come
These colors don’t run
Stay up and stay young

American nights

~Morgan Wallen

Yesterday was so much fun! Mikayla always “crashes”, when she comes back home. She didn’t get up, until after noon. She’s been working so hard, and I’m extremely proud of her. I’m proud of all my girls! Brooklyn decided to pursue her associates degree, and has been taking classes during the days, while also working a full time job, overnights. She’s done an impressive job, already saving up a good amount of money for herself, too. I still sometimes just marvel at how much all my girls have grown, but especially my Brooklyn. Brooklyn was born, more than two months premature. She was diagnosed with autism and sensory processing disorder, right after her third birthday. She didn’t start speaking, until nearly a year later. She can be very literal and blunt, in her thinking and her words. It isn’t always easy for her to recognize the subtle cues in how others say things, their facial expressions, things like that. She sometimes misunderstands, after mistaking someone’s intentional sarcasm for genuine emotion. On the other hand, she’s also super funny! She makes me laugh, a lot. We tease that she’s got the same personality as her cat. Whenever a stranger comes around, she disappears. Once she gets comfortable, though, she will open up. She’s a great judge of character, too. She seems to quickly recognize and discern, who can and cannot be trusted. She, herself, is sincere to the point of often being “brutally honest”. My sister’s always said, if she wants to feel good about herself, she’ll ask Mikayla’s opinions. If she wants the truth, she’ll ask Brooklyn. I admire the way Brooklyn never compromises her true feelings or beliefs, for anything or anyone else. She had to learn how to be a little bit more delicate, when sharing her opinions with others, but she’ll always tell you the truth if you ask her for it. During her Senior year of high school, and while I was working outside the home and our family were all going through the toughest season of our lives, she grew into this beautiful and brave young woman. I almost missed the subtle changes in her, for awhile. As that year progressed, it occurred to me just how strong and helpful she’d been. She took on almost all of the daily household chores. She became Mj’s second mama, and really paid close attention to Mj’s struggling. She spent hours listening and talking, with her. She did her best to make life fun, for all of us. In those firsts, like the first holidays without some of the people we wouldn’t celebrate with, she was goofy and wanted to cheer up our heavy hearts. She kept up her grades, in school. Never had missing or incomplete work. As much as I truly appreciate all she did for everyone, including me, I also felt tremendous guilt. This never should have been her burden to carry. Her last year to be a “kid”, should have been filled with fun and friends. Not dirty dishes, laundry, making sure her little sister brushed her teeth before school, and looking after her mama. I should’ve been much more present with her, and aware. I look back, and see just how selfish I’d been. Running from the turmoil, trying to avoid having to look at the damage done to our family. To my babies. When she had to have her knee surgery, I’d already begun to recognize these things I hadn’t been, but so wanted to do again, with and for my babies. Her health challenge was just the final push, that convinced me what and where I needed to do and be. I was not going to let her go through that, without being right beside her. I can’t ever “make up’ for the time I missed, with my girls, but I did do my darndest to be fully present, from then on. I’m still determined to be a better mama. To give them what they need and deserve. Now, Brooklyn is no longer a child, and is carving her own path in life. Although I do miss the hell out of her, I’m also hella proud to of her. I’m hella proud of all of them! Mikayla’s wicked smart. Like, well beyond my own capabilities. She’s doing these absolutely incredible things. Achieving her goals and dreams, like the badass she is. She’s an actual freaking rocket scientist, and she’s proving to be a damn good one at that. Brooklyn’s continuing to challenge herself, leaving her comfort zone so that she can learn and grow, and build her very own beautiful life. Mj’s grown more than hips and boobs, too. She’s maturing, quickly. I find myself having deep conversations with her. Real, grown up type of talks, about big topics. She’s doing color guard, taking after her big sister, Mikayla. She’s got a real good group of friends. She’s become awfully “boy crazy” recently, as well, which her daddy claims is making his beard turn gray. Haha! Mj is a teenage girl. A young lady, who’s figuring out what and who she wants to be. My goal is to support and encourage my girls. To guide them, as best I can, and to be a mama who they’ll always want to include, as they navigate along their own journeys.

We celebrated the Fourth of July, swimming, talking, giggling, baking, eating, and shooting fireworks. It only rained briefly, shortly after we got started with our fireworks. We sat and waited for the rain to pass, and then were able to get right back to it. Adam and the girls had a blast. I had the best Fourth of July, in years. Maybe, the best one ever, actually. I loved seeing my carefree, smiling family. I wasn’t plagued by the same sadness, that had clung to me, for the past two July Fourths. I feel “lighter”. I’m more free than I’ve felt, in a long time. I can acknowledge the aches and pains, that might bubble up from time to time, without being consumed by them. My shine is no longer dimmed. My sparkle’s back. I’ve been able to allow my present joy to fill in the spaces, where I’d held onto past hurts. Change doesn’t require that nothing stays the same. It often happens without even noticing, until more time passes. Hours become days. Days become weeks. Weeks become years. Before you know it, you’ve gotten a little bit older. A little bit wiser. A little bit stronger. It seems that I too, have grown.

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4th of July

And I’m looking at you
With the world in the rear view

You were pretty as can be, sitting in the front seat
Looking at me, telling me you love me
And you’re happy to be with me on the 4th of July

~Shooter Jennings

We were supposed to be going out on a pontoon boat, with some friends, yesterday. Unfortunately, the weather decided not to cooperate with those plans. It stormed, alllll afternoon, into the evening. Since that also meant Adam couldn’t grill our supper, he fried us some bacon. We ate BLT’s, instead. After supper, we sat around and played games. Although not the way we intended our day to be spent, we had a lot of fun, anyhow.

Today, we’re hoping to be able to spend time, outside, weather permitting. This will be our first time spending the Fourth, at home, since we moved to this house! We’ve got lots of fireworks, this year, and our neighborhood also has a big party. I’m excited to do some swimming, play some cornhole, eat some yummy bbq, and watch the fireworks.

HAPPY 250th BIRTHDAY, America!

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No More Lies

So look straight into eyes Tell me the truth and not lies So now I understand…

~Brabo Gator

If the severity of a spanking matched my level of regret and remorse, this one would’ve left me sitting uncomfortably for at least a week!

After Adam said those dreaded words, you’re going to get a spanking, all I could do was hang my head. He shut off the shower water, stepped out, and then wrapped a towel around me, like he always does. He wrapped a towel around his own waist, and reached out for me. Knowing what was coming, I froze. I admitted, I knew I deserved it, but also told him I was scared. And, I was!

In my mind, I’d committed the worst crime imaginable. I’d broken the number one rule, between us. We don’t lie to each other. I envisioned a spanking more serious than any he’d ever given, before. What would that even be like? What if it makes me cry? Would he stay and hold me, after, like he always had? In those brief moments, all these thoughts played over, in my head.

The next thing I knew, he had me over his knees. My left arm was out in front of me, pinned between our bodies, but my right arm was still free. Instinctively, I reached back, to cover my exposed behind. Adam took my right hand in his left one, and held it against my back, removing my ability to continue making feeble attempts at preventing what was coming. As much as my body wanted to, I fought the urge to kick my legs, to try launching myself from his grip. Even though I’ve done tried all these things, before, and knew I was no match for his strong arms, deep down I also knew I needed to submit. After all, I damn well knew I’d done wrong, and this predicament was entirely my own doing. As his right arm raised, and I anticipated the first smack across my now perfectly positioned butt, I gripped Adam’s leg with my left hand, and the hand he was holding my other in. I realized my nails were beginning to dig into his skin, and found myself shouting out, I don’t want to scratch you! I sensed his raised hand relax, for a second, as he gently assured me that it was okay if I scratched him. He could handle it. I did my best, not to let my long nails scrape across him. I did end up managing to keep from giving him any accidental scratches or cuts from them, too.

I won’t pretend the whole thing was a pleasant experience, but ultimately, I had no issues sleeping or sitting comfortably, after. That spanking could’ve been SO much worse, and I’d have fully accepted I’d earned it. Instead, he chose to let me off pretty darned easy, considering what I’d done. He held me in his arms, kissed me, and begged me to trust him, when he tells me that he’ll love me no matter what. He’s not going anywhere, and that there’s nothing we can’t get through, together.

Later, as I reflected, it dawned on me that it actually has been the spankings I’ve most felt I deserved, that have been much less severe than I’d anticipated. On the other hand, the most severe ones have been for things I had vehemently argued I didn’t believe were warranted. Things I considered minimal, minor, petty, and sometimes even got angry at him for determining punishment was necessary in the first place. That’s when it clicked, for me. I nearly said out loud my collective thoughts “ohhhh”, with this realization! If I’m being bitchy, arguing with him over whether I believe I’ve done wrong, that’s a great big red flag. It signals, I’m not sorry, and I’ll do it again. It displays my lack of respect for him, or his boundaries. It tells him I’m not sorry. This is almost certainly, precisely the reason he’s chosen to make sure I’d come to regret whatever it was I’d done. Maybe, it’s not about the severity of my wrongs, but about the sincerity in my remorse. Of course, I’m aware that if I lie to him again, my apologies probably ain’t sparing me. At that point, I’d have already proven I wasn’t sorry enough not to do that again. But, for the most rare instances of lines crossed, he just wants to know that I’m taking it as seriously as he does. That I mean it, when I tell him, I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.

Note to future self…. Lose the attitude. Drop the arguments. Tell him you’re sorry, and try to mean it. You’ll most likely avoid getting your ego checked, with a bruised behind.

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I Was Lying

I wish I could reconcile, cause deep inside I’m dying So I put on a smile, and I pretend I’m fine
I’m just another screw up, baby don’t waste your time I told you we’d be different, but we knew I was lying

~Burden

Ok, so not exactly as dramatic as these song lyrics, but I told Adam a lie.

I’m very good at circling truth, sometimes. Adam calls this, sidestepping. Sort of leading him to the conclusion I’m intending, but without explicitly ever speaking an untruth. One thing I just never did, was tell my husband a lie. I did that, last week. For the first time, in literally more than a decade, my lips spoke a blatant falsehood, to him. When the subject was first mentioned, I didn’t lie. I sidestepped, no doubt, but I allowed him to conclude a lie, based on my statement of facts.

To further explain, we have to go back in time, to around two weeks ago. We were about to make our trip to Knoxville. I was busy, the day we were leaving. I’d run errands, got us all packed up, and made a couple tedious phone calls that needed to be taken care of. There was one more thing, Adam expected me to have gotten done, that day, but I’d completely forgotten about it. Fast forward, to Monday. Laying in bed, Monday night, I suddenly remembered what it was I’d forgotten to do, on Friday. It was late. I told myself I’d do it first thing, the next morning. Unfortunately, Tuesday came and went. I had not, in fact, remembered to do so. It wasn’t until that Wednesday morning, I’d finally taken care of it. I hadn’t mentioned any of this, to Adam. If I’m honest, I don’t think I planned to. Except, the very next evening, he specifically asked me if I’d gotten that done. What I said to him was, that I’d actually forgotten, on Friday. I told him, I remembered, on Monday. As predicted, my response was satisfactory…until a few more days passed. It’d come up, once again. Only, he was asking me to clarify that I’d handled it on Monday. I tried to dance around the truth, and asked him, Don’t you remember, we talked about this the other day? I told you I’d forgot on Friday, but remembered it on Monday. Had he drawn the same conclusion he had previously, I’d be guilty of simply sidestepping the truth, again. That’s not what happened, though. He came out, and asked me to verify for him that I’d gotten it done, on Monday. In that split second, I made the choice to lie. I told him, YES. I lied to myself, too. I wanted to believe it was just a harmless fib. I nearly fooled my own conscience, but not for long. The harder I tried to push down the guilt that bubbled up, the sicker I began to feel. I simply could not ignore it.

I spent more than a day, wrestling with my own guilty conscience. My stomach was in knots. I knew what I was going to have to do, as much as I hated to have to admit to Adam the stupid lie I’d told him, and for a stupid ass reason. I felt, at the time, that confessing my absentmindedness had gone on for more than just one business day, would seem much more irresponsible. Instead, what I wound up doing was making multiple irresponsible decisions, in my effort to conceal an insignificant mistake.

I felt so ashamed. I couldn’t hide the truth from Adam for one more day. I vowed to come clean, about all of it, that evening. Which was just last night.

I’d been more quiet than usual, while we showered. Adam was noticing this. We’d finished showering, and I began to wring out my hair. He reached for the faucet, and asked me if I was all done. The tiny pause before I replied with a weak, yes, removed all remaining doubt in his mind. Something was up. He looked at me, and asked if I was sure. I looked down. That’s when he asked me what it was I needed to tell him. I fought the urge to lie, again, and insist there was nothing wrong. I was downright disgusted, with myself. The shame and embarrassment made me want to hide. I wasn’t going to allow myself to evade accountability, though.

I laid it all out. Like one very long, run on sentence, the truth poured out of me. I watched his face, as my words landed in his ears, expecting to see the same disgust I had over what I’d done reflected back to me in his eyes. His expression was soft, though. He looked down at me, listening to every single word I was saying. I made no excuses, for myself. I made no efforts to lay any part of the blame on him. He’d done absolutely nothing wrong. When I’d finished my tearful confession, I looked back into his eyes, and told him how sorry I was. I meant it, too. I can’t remember feeling more sorry.

His hands clasped my face, as he leaned down and kissed my forehead. The first words out of his mouth were, I love you. He insisted, I have to stop thinking I have to be perfect. There’s nothing I can say or do, to push him away. He reminded me of how much we’ve been through, and that he’s not going anywhere. He told me he appreciated that I’d come clean, and that I apologized. He said he probably never would’ve found out, and although it did hurt that I’d lied to him, he was glad my lie had made me uncomfortable enough to admit it. He acknowledged that he understood that wasn’t easy to do, told me thank you, and then informed me I was getting a spanking.

To be continued…