“Slow down, you crazy child, take the phone off the hook and disappear for awhile. It’s alright, you can afford to lose a day or two…..Slow down, you’re doin’ fine, you can’t be everything you wanna be before your time…..You know you see when you’re wrong, you can’t always see when you’re right….Dream on, but don’t imagine they’ll all come true…” ~Billy Joel

Spent the day hanging out with Adam and the kiddos. We got the last of our Christmas decorations packed away, until next year. Everybody pitched in. We organized everything into totes, vacuumed the floors, and put some new things up. I got a Nashville skyline picture, for Christmas. We hung it today.

The kids don’t have school, tomorrow, because it’s a holiday. Martin Luther King Jr. Day. Adam will start his first day of work, here. Going from an hour drive, to work, to a ten minute one. Jackie and I plan to take the kids thrift shopping, tomorrow. She wants to find some projects to work on. It’s fun to buy something old and worn, and make it into something beautiful again.

The sun is shining. It’s only in the 50’s, so not particularly warm out, but the sun feels good. Adam grilled some hotdogs and brats, last night. We used chili and some nacho cheese, to make chili dogs. Tonight, I’m making some homemade cheeseburger macaroni. I realize, I make things with cheese a lot! We do love our pastas and cheese, here at our house. If anyone is interested in the cheeseburger mac recipe, I’ll share it here.

1 pound ground beef or turkey

Minced onion

1 teaspoon onion powder

1 teaspoon garlic powder

2 cups water

2 cups elbow macaroni noodles

1 cup processed cheese (like Velveeta)

I just brown the ground beef/turkey with the minced onion. Add the garlic and onion powder. Then add water and macaroni noodles. Turn heat to high and boil for about 11 minutes. Reduce heat to low, add cheese, and stir until cheese is melted. Wah-Lah!

“You’ll know him when you see him by the way he looks at me. You’d say he hung the moon, I’d say he hung the galaxy….A love me like he should one. Like he wrote the book one. The kind you find when you don’t even look one. Anybody can be good once, but he’s good all the time. He’s one of the good ones, and he’s all mine…We should all find us one. They’re out there, minus one.”

I truly believe Adam and I were made for each other. I could never find another Adam. God knows, there ain’t a replacement for me, either! I’m sure I’m one of a kind, for good or bad.

When I’ve talked with friends, about men, I often tell them, “Do you think Adam came out the box like this?!” It takes a lot of time, work, devotion, and love, to get there. Adam and I are certainly not perfection! When my friends complain that they haven’t found their “Adam”, though, I have to take the time to explain, this don’t happen overnight. We know each other, inside and out. Through trial and error, we’ve learned what works, and what doesn’t. We’re still learning about each other. I think that’s what commitment and marriage is. Promising to continue loving, supporting, and learning about one another. When people talk about marriage being work, they’re not kidding! It isn’t always easy. It’s not always glamorous. Sometimes, you look at your spouse and say to yourself, what the hell is wrong with him/her?! Occasionally, a new revelation, about your partner, shakes you. You wonder if you really even know them? I know I’ve done this to Adam. Learning something monumental, about someone’s past, does not mean they’re not the same person, standing in front of you. I’ve had times, when I’ve told Adam about some part of my past, and I’ve been so afraid that he might look at me differently. Would I be “damaged”, as far as he’s concerned? The truth is, he learns about things, and he understands so much more about the why of it all. He knows me better. He sees that innocence in me, that has been tainted by someone’s cruelty, and then he figures out how to help me handle that shit. I’ve grown so much, because of my husband’s love and support. I’ve shared secrets, with him, that I told myself would stay locked away forever. I’ve discovered, I can open up. He doesn’t judge me. I’m never “too much”.

Most of my life, I pretended. I needed everyone to know me, and see someone who wasn’t damaged. I let everyone believe that my privileged childhood was everything they imagined. To look at the smiling happy faces we wore, and never doubt that it was real. Adam didn’t know who my mother truly was, until the last 3-4 years. Despite my best efforts, the truth came out. Through a mixture of my mother’s brutal words and actions, and my own opening up and sharing my history, Adam and Jackie have learned a lot. It isn’t easy to admit that you’re damaged. It’s hard to explain that the image I had portrayed, for so long, was mostly a fabrication. I’d made my childhood into what I’d wished it had been. I’d painted my mother into someone she never was. I lied. Not out of malice. It was both for self preservation, and to protect my mother. I was deeply bothered at the thought of someone seeing her for who I knew she could be. I so desperately wanted to believe the perfect family I’d described myself growing up in, was real. I think I almost had convinced myself that it was, in fact, real. Her secrets, my secrets, would’ve died with me, having never been unearthed, had she chosen a different path. Had my mother only continued to be the pretend one who everyone else saw, I’d have never told on her. That’s the truth.

For better or for worse, I’ve exposed myself to Adam, and to Jackie. I’ve admitted the things I kept to myself, for so long. There’s more. It’s amazing how many pages of my story there are to read. There are chapters, most of which I’ve shared. There are still some pages I’ve skipped over. I imagine that, with time, my entire story will be known to the people I trust the most. I’m just not the kind of book you can read without the help of someone transcribing it. A mixture of exhaustion, frustration, pain, and trust, are how I’m able to read them my story. The fact that I have people who are willing to stick around for it, that’s what makes me sure I matter. I know I could never have been who I am today, without the love of people like my husband and my best friend. I pray that everyone reading this now, has someone in their life, who they trust to share their story with.

(This is a Seth Anthony song.)

I can pretty much find a song title that I love, to use as a title on any blog post, that suits me. Today, “Reckless” seemed appropriate.

I used to care a whole lot less about my tomorrows. I could be wild and stupid. I’ve cliff jumped, in a rock quarry, where people have died, doing the same thing. I’ve gotten in the passenger seat of cars, driven by people who were in no condition to drive. I’ve rode on the backseat of motorcycles, driven by guys who cared nothing about the laws or speed limits. I had a brand new, V8 Mustang GT, when I was just 18 years old. I don’t even like to admit how fast I found out I could make that car could go…

The moment my first baby was born, I found there was no more reckless within me. Suddenly, I had something to care about, that mattered enough for me to knock off the dumb shit. I’ll be damned if my babies are going to grow up without their Mama! Not if I can help it, anyway. So, it appears those days are long since past. My husband and my babies have “civilized me”. If someone had told me what my life would look like, in my thirties, back when I was reckless, I would’ve laughed in their face. Even though I always knew I wanted this to be my life one day, I never really believed it could be. My family gives me something I didn’t see before. There’s this value, in me, that I didn’t know could exist. It’s amazing that I can matter this much. Knowing that I matter to the people I love, is everything to me, when I’m struggling. To know that there are people who genuinely need me, that makes me press on. I will not fail my family.

That’s not to suggest that I’m perfect. I fuck up. I make my share of mistakes. The difference is, those screw ups matter to me, because they matter to my favorite people. If “my people” disappeared tomorrow, I don’t think I would care anymore. I’m not quite sure if that’s healthy or normal? I just know it’s my truth. I care about my own safety, because I love my family, and they need me. They’re the entire reason I wake up every morning. I don’t wear my seatbelt or take my vitamins, because I give a shit. I do it because they do!

I love my family from the deepest, purest part of my heart. A part of me that I didn’t even know existed, before they did. I have the best time, hanging out with Jackie in my kitchen. I treasure the afternoons, when my kids walk in the door, after school, and they throw their backpacks down, ask me what’s for snack, and hang out with me to chat about their day. I look forward to Adam coming in the door after work, everyday. With those occasional exceptions of nights he’s walking in, and I know I’ve done did it, and he’s going to be calling for a meeting “in his office”. Even then, I always need him to come home. It makes my day, when my Dad texts or calls me, just to check in on me.

I spent my day hanging out with my sister and my niece, Pj. She came over, with the baby, and we hung out, talked, and laughed. I held baby Pj most of the afternoon, except when Adam held her while they took a little nap together, in his chair. It was a lot of fun. My kiddos even had a blast hanging out with their aunt and their newest cousin. I wouldn’t trade days like today, for anything.

I got supper started, as soon as my son and I got home. I like to let my chili soup simmer, for a few hours. I don’t make mine very spicy, like some folks do. It’s the recipe my family made, for generations, though.

1-2 pounds of ground beef or turkey. You can also add in cut up pieces of steak.

Minced onion (as much as y’all like.)

4 cans chili beans (I use 1 hot, 1 medium, and 2 mild. I like to use pinto and kidney chili beans, too.)

4 Tbs chili powder

1/4 to 1/3 Cup of granulated sugar (this adds some sweet to the spicy.)

Diced tomato

48-64 ounces tomato juice

Optional: shredded cheese, and/or corn chips, and/or saltine crackers

I use my Ninja cooker from start to finish, with chili. Brown the ground beef/turkey with minced onion. Once that’s cooked, add chili powder, then sugar, then beans, and then tomato juice. I add some diced tomato into our chili sometimes, too. Let it simmer on low heat, for 1-4 hours.

Adam has to have frito corn chips, with his chili. Him and the kids add them into their chili, along with some shredded cheese. I like to add cheese and saltine crackers to my bowl.

Additionally, this is a Midwest thing, I’ve discovered, but we make cinnamon rolls when we have chili. You can dunk your cinnamon roll into your chili. I know it sounds so weird, but if you give it a chance, you won’t regret it!

That’s a song by “Bug Smo”. We made an old TikTok of Adam, with this song playing in the background, during the Covid madness. He was playing with our kids and their toy trucks, on a play mat of pretend highways. It was pretty cute! We teased that he missed his job 😆

Adam is transferring to the office near us, on Monday. I’m so excited he’ll be closer to home! He’s doing the exact same job, for the same company, just much closer to home now. Instead of getting home at 6-7pm, he’ll be walking in between 5-6pm. Instead of leaving home at 5am, he’ll be leaving closer to 6am. I love that he will be around a little more, now!

When we were first married, especially after the babies started coming, I would complain to Adam about being away from home so much. I hated the long hours. I got angry when he missed supper with us. Somewhere, somehow, my mindset changed. I realized that, he isn’t missing time with his family because he wants to! He’s working long hours, because he loves his family. I learned to appreciate the sacrifices he was making. I changed my mindset, so that I understood his better. I supported him in growing his business. I stuck it out. We made it work. With time, he’s been able to be in a position where he brings in a great income, and isn’t away quite as much. Adam has also come to appreciate the value in family time, because I stopped nagging him about it. I want home to be his happy place. I want him to feel love and appreciation from his family. I send him random texts, sometimes. I texted him, yesterday. I sent a screenshot of him leaving our house at 5am, and another of him coming home at 6:30pm, the night before. Our doorbell camera catches him coming and going. I put the two pictures together, and I told him, “This man who leaves before the sun is up, and gets home after it’s gone down, is the reason I’m standing here baking chocolate chip cookies, dancing with my babies, and listening to music in my kitchen, where we’re all warm and dry. I love you”.

Adam has come to know, if I call him, it’s important. I don’t call and bug him all day long, everyday. We text often, but I understand he will respond as soon as he’s able. He always replies as soon as he can. If I call his phone, during work hours, he answers. I only call when I need him now. I don’t nag him about making it home for every little thing. If I do mention something important to me, that he should be here for, he does his absolute best to be here. I’ve learned to “pick my battles”. We’ve come to a place in time, where Adam trusts that, when I tell him something matters, it matters. This arrangement works great, for us. I can’t even remember the last time we argued about him working too much, or missing something important to me.

I wanted to take my son in to see his doctor, yesterday. His elbow injury had started to bruise all down his arm. His PE coach wouldn’t allow him to skip out on any exercises that hurt his elbow, unless we had a doctor’s note. My poor kid couldn’t even do a push up and was getting chewed out by the PE teacher! I expected that we would get him looked at, get a note so he can rest his elbow, and go on our way. I tried to get an appointment yesterday, but couldn’t get him in with the doctor until today. They’d done x rays, last weekend, when the injury happened, but his doctor wanted to do their own. So, we got more x rays done. Imagine my shock, when the doctor came in and announced that “his elbow is busted”!! My son can bend his elbow. He hasn’t complained of pain, other than when he’s putting too much weight on it. He doesn’t screech when we touch him. I was absolutely not expecting to hear that!

We were then sent over to an orthopedic specialist. This office wasn’t able to read the x rays we had just gotten, so had to do their own. We were told that surgery was the most likely outcome, because my son is still growing. They explained a bunch of medical mumbo jumbo, but it sounded like he was going to end up having surgery. To my complete surprise, their x rays were read, and my son does not, in fact, have a broken elbow! Well, they’re almost certain he doesn’t. They believe that, what looked like a broken elbow, is actually just his growth plates. They are still not fused together, the way an adult elbow would be. Therefore, what looks like pieces of a broken elbow, is likely just his growth plates. They applied a fresh ace bandage to his elbow, and made an appointment for us to come back in two weeks. The doctor said, if something they aren’t seeing does happen to be broken, they will be able to see it starting to heal, when we come back. Needless to say, it was a hell of a day!

This is an easy supper! I have lots of potatoes left, so I’m peeling and slicing potatoes to use for tonight’s supper. All you need is

4-6 medium/large potatoes (I just have the plain ol’ Russet Idaho potatoes)

Diced ham

About 1/3 of a 32oz box of velveeta cheese. For my non American friends, I would recommend any cheese you prefer that will melt nicely together with the potatoes.

1 stick of butter

I peel and then dice each of the potatoes into about 8-10 pieces. I like to spray the baking pan with non stick cooking spray, to prevent the potatoes sticking to the pan. Put your diced potatoes into 9×13 baking pan. I cheated, and bought pre diced ham. When I’m using leftover ham, I just cut it into pieces myself. I slice the stick of butter into 12-16 pieces. Mix the ham, butter, and cheese into potatoes. Cover. Bake at 375 for about an hour.

Yum 😋

(This title is a Christian song, by “Stars Go Dim” 😉

I shared my last post with Jackie. This was some of our text messages, after.

This morning, as I waited in the pharmacy drive thru, I got a random text from my Dad.

I’m not alone. There are great people, who truly care for me. I know this, and I spend most of my time focusing on these people. There are just some hard days. I can’t help feeling sad for who isn’t here, sometimes. As a mother myself, it’s so impossible for me to understand how my mother doesn’t see me the way I look at my babies? I tell them all the time, if they could look in the mirror, and see themselves the way I do, they would never have a second of doubt. They’re beautiful, inside and out. When they hurt, I hurt. When they do something amazing, I’m so proud. When they need a hug, or some reassurance, I’m here. I’m not a perfect mama. My babies know how loved they are, though. They will never have to doubt their mama’s love for them, ever. I will not let myself become my own mother. She has definitely helped to motivate me, to be the very best mama that I can be. Missing out on some important things a child is supposed to get from their mother, that’s made me hyper aware of what my own children need from me. And, to tell the truth, I hope they grow up taking it all for granted. I pray that they can grow up and become great parents, spouses, human beings, simply because they don’t know any different.

Adam and I hear all the time, from people, that the way we look at each other is magical. The way we love each other, and our children, is literally felt by the people around us. I couldn’t count how many times I’ve heard our friends tell us they would die to have what we do. It’s not a “show” we’re putting on, here. We argue, sometimes. I know we can seriously piss each other off, but there’s never even a thought about leaving. We’ve never thrown out the “D word” (divorce). It isn’t even an option. Even when we’re angry, it’s because we love each other. I want our children to grow up with memories about how amazing their childhood was. I hope they can always look back and see all of the love.

~ “If you just walked away, what could I really say? And would it matter anyway? Would it change how you feel?”…. “I am the mess you chose. The closet you cannot close. The devil in you I suppose, because the wounds never heal.”… “But everything changes, if I could turn back the years, if you could learn to forgive me, then I could learn to feel.” ~

I know that song is written more about a failed romantic relationship, but it also makes me think of my mother. These lyrics speak to my soul. A lot of different song lyrics can do that to me. Music is a big part of how I express myself. It can be a huge “release”, when I’m full of pent up emotion. It can express words I’m not yet able to form for myself, in the moment.

I still consider reaching out to my mother. I’ve thought of writing her a letter. Then, I think of how that worked out when I was a child. She threw away letters I’d written, without even reading them. She read one poem I wrote her, on Mother’s Day, when I was about 10 years old, and she never stopped making fun of me about how dumb the rhymes were. I never wrote her any poems, after that. I imagine writing a heartfelt, emotional letter. I picture myself addressing it. Applying a stamp in the right corner. I would carefully put it in my mailbox slot, with the flag up, alerting the mail carrier to take my letter. It would travel several states, until finally, it landed in her mailbox. She would see it was from me, her oldest daughter. In my fantasy, she would excitedly open it, and read my words. She’d have tears in her eyes, as she felt and understood my words. She would feel something. Sorry? Maybe she would miss me? Or, maybe she might sit and write me back a truly heartfelt expression of her feelings. She might describe a version of her story that could help me to understand her. Words that I could read that would give me a sense of security, that she does love me. At the very least, some closure.

My realist brain is aware of how this would actually play out. I’d spend days pouring my heart and soul into a letter to my mother. She would see it in her mailbox. She’d probably open it, because her curiosity wouldn’t be able to prevent that. She would probably laugh at me. Then, if I heard anything back, it would be hateful. She would rip my heart into pieces even smaller than she already has made it into.

Adam, my beautiful babies, Jackie, my Dad, my sister…they have helped me to put the pieces back together. If you imagine a torn piece of paper. You could glue or tape it back together. The image is still there, but there’s marks where it’s been ripped apart. The tape is showing, where it’s been pieced back together. You can still see the original drawing, but you also know it’s been damaged, and repaired. I can’t allow myself to give my mother the opportunity to damage my picture anymore than has already been done. For this reason, I simply hang onto the fantasy. It helps me to get through, on the tough days.