My Crazy Stupendous Story – Part 3

/ Kelly / Leave a comment

You can catch up to this point by reading, My Crazy-Stupendous Story – Part 1 and then My Crazy-Stupendous Story – Part 2.

So a day or so later, he comes to meet the Warden. He shows up right after work, and I take him back to meet my son who is playing war games on his xbox. There’s a few awkward moments of silence and confusion after the introduction and then they decide the best way to size each other up is in a Halo battle. I watch, they play. Then after about an hour, we all go into the living room to see flaky off. The Warden promptly tells him that he is not going to date me, as expected. And then flaky leaves and the Warden begins his interrogation. “Who was that? Why was he here? How do you know him? Why was he so dirty? He looks like a homeless guy. (He’s actually a welder.) Do paw paw and grandma know him?”, and so forth. Kind of like when your dad first meets your new boyfriend. I convinced him that we were just friends at that point and that we were going to see what happened, but that it wasn’t anything serious and that I just wanted them to get to know each other better so that maybe we could hang out.

After that, we saw a whole lot of flaky. Turns out, he wasn’t nearly as flaky as I thought he was going to be. Matter of fact, he isn’t really flaky at all. He’s wonderful. And his name is actually Ray. And by wonderful, I mean… this man has been the best thing to ever happen to either one of us. There were days in the beginning when I thought surely he would give up on us. My son gave him absolute HELL the first couple of months we dated. He was mean to the point of me crying and telling Ray that I totally understood if he wanted to just call the whole thing quits and move on. But Ray was very patient with my son and explained that he’d been the little boy trying to protect his mom too, when he was young. He understood that Kaden just needed to see for himself that things were going to be okay. And that he was going to treat us good and stick around and wasn’t like anything we had experienced before in our past. And eventually, Kaden saw all of those things. And it was worth all of the hard stuff. After dating for about a year, we decided to get married. I was scared to death. After all this was round 3 for me and I just knew that some crazy lady with 6 kids was going to show up and ruin everything. But the wedding day came and no crazy lady showed up to claim my man, so we got married. It was a simple wedding with family and friends and we had a short, sweet honeymoon in a town just a couple of hours away.

 

Since then, our life together as a family has been great. I mean really great. We have had some little hiccups here and there, but few and far between and nothing to write about. I won’t say we have the perfect marraige, even though I feel like it’s pretty dang close. However, I will say that what we have is perfect for us. I’ve finally got my knight in shining armor, and my son finally has a good man in his life that he loves and gets love from in return and who is showing him how to be an honest, hard-working, loving, strong and gentle-man. My husband loves my family, and I love his family. We really were a match made in Heaven. I love how God knew just what we needed, when we needed it and how it makes so much sense now that I can look back on everything. We married in November of 2012, and in April of 2014 my husband adopted my son. It was a long road and there were several court appearances, and lots of dirty laundry aired in the courtroom on both sides, and we experienced our greatest fears relieved and hopes come to fruition. But now we all share the same last name and a brighter expectation for our future. My son told his biological father after the hearing, in response to a comment about him being there if my son ever decided to come look for him, “I won’t ever come look for you, I already have a dad.”  To this day, he introduces Ray as his dad, to his friends as well as perfect strangers. He gets angry with us, as any 13 year old does. And he thinks we are horrible parents for making him mow the yard or take out the trash, EVERY day. But he tells us he loves us and he is mostly an “A” Honor Roll student, and he plays sports and he hangs out with his buddies and is a pretty well rounded young man, with a sweet disposition, a major funny streak, a lot of spunk and the biggest heart. So I figure we must be doing something right.

Let’s catch up.

/ Kelly / Leave a comment

So, my last entry was a LONG time ago. And I’ve not had the time or energy to really want to sit down and write about anything, really. But I decided that my story (stories) are still worth telling and that maybe, they still might benefit someone – even if it’s just to provide a chuckle, or a moment of pause. So, let’s catch up!

I know I said this wasn’t going to be a pregnancy blog – and it still isn’t – no gory details, and no rummaging back through the past, but in order to really catch you up – I had a miscarraige (Love and Loss) at what should’ve been around 13 weeks pregnant – back in July of 2014. It was awful and we are still to this day coping with that loss. But we moved forward and kept trying to have another child. Fast forward to mid January 2015. I woke up one Saturday morning, in excruciating pain. I was doubled over, with cramping and stuff and seriously considered calling my husband to drive me to the ER. But the pain kind of came and went and I took some tylenol and headed out to show some houses to a prospective buyer. I still hurt but it wasn’t killing me. Long story short, I finally went to the doctor and turns out I was having another miscarraige. I was pretty much pissed… mainly because I hadn’t even known I was pregnant yet and thought it was stupid to even find out about it because what’s the point even?! But I was also relieved that it happened that way too. Because at least we hadn’t had time to get excited or get our hopes up about the future and everything. This was the week before our Anniversary trip that we had already planned and booked. So we went, and it was still great, but with a sort of sad little rain cloud hovering over us the whole time that we tried to ignore.

By early April, I thought I was pregnant again and took a couple of tests (bear in mind that my doctor had recommended after the first miscarraige that I get BACK ON birth control and wait a whole year before trying to get pregnant again, because the risk of future miscarraige, etc. etc. blah blah) and the pregancy tests were all negative. But I knew. I could feel it in my heart. And sure enough around early May, the test was positive! Cue the panic and fear and zillion what-if’s. But also the excitement and hope and faith that this would work out. We were all on pins and needles waiting for the 13 week mark to come and go. I know they say not to do this, but I kept taking the pregnancy test that measures hormone levels up to what should be 12 weeks thinking that if my levels were holding steady it might mean everything was okay. And they kept showing the 12 week levels. So I did find some comfort in that and it gave me a tiny bit of relief that things were still okay. Finally we went for the sonogram and there, in black and white, was a tiny white light flashing and the sweet pitter-pattering of a healthy little heart. Tears of joy and relief were finally in order! From there, the pregnancy progressed and all was well, other than some minor (depending on who you ask) health issues with me during the pregnancy, and my 13 year old breaking his leg in football and having to have two surgeries. The doctors decided to induce me on the 25th of November and after two days of craziness and still no baby, I went in for a c-section and came out with a healthy, perfect, 7 lb, 11 oz, 19 inch baby girl. It was spectacular to say the least. So now, here we are with the baby we prayed for and it’s definitely been a whirlwind of a ride. Mommy, daddy, brother and little sister. We couldn’t begin to ask for anything more wonderful. Thank you Jesus, for answered prayers.

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Some old (but good) advice on parenting… from the most imperfect parent I know. Yours Truly.

/ Kelly / Leave a comment

I found this advice in an old email that I had sent a friend who was struggling with mommy-syndrome and all it’s joys and complications: “Something I saw in a movie one time that I always thought I’d try if I had a little girl or even another baby boy – is to have some whisper time. Rediculously cheesy, but so very sweet. Just whisper talking to them and in your case, your daughter whispers to you… Nothing specific, just where you talk to each other in whispers, holding hands, really close to them. Like you are the only two people in the world. I always picture this taking place in a little blanket fort in the living room but whatever and wherever. Life is so chaotic as it is, and we are all so caught up in the daily routine of what NEEDS to be done that we lose sight of what we are doing it all for. If you think about it, nothing in this world would matter one bit if we lost our kids. Or our husbands. But especially our kids. They are literally, our flesh and blood. Our heart, living outside of our bodies. Nothing is more precious or valuable than that. I seriously came to the realization one day when I was all rushed and running late and yelling at Kaden that – NO. You know what?! I am NOT going to be this person. If I’m late to work. So be it. SO. BE. IT. Kaden being late to school is not the end of the world. And me getting to work late is especially not the end of the world. Hell, they’re lucky most days to even have me show up! But what WOULD be the end of the world, is if those angry, hurried moments were (GOD FORBID!) my last moments with my little boy. THAT. That, would be tragic. SO I said f*** it. For real. I try to be on time. Usually I am. Sometimes I’m not. And nothing earth shattering has come of it.”
It’s been several years since I wrote this advice to her, and it still seems like decent advice. So if any of you need a reminder, like I certainly do, there you go.

A Fresh Start

/ Kelly / 1 Comment

Wow… it’s been a while, hasn’t it?  Ok, so I took a break. But I wanted to give you an update. After my miscarraige,  I did a bit of soul searching,  trying to figure out where I want this journey to go. Hubby and I agree that a baby would be wonderful, but all in God’s timing. So we sort of just let it go. We’re still trying, but not “trying”, like before. We went on vacation, did some much needed recharging of our minds and bodies, and spent plenty of time floating and relaxing in the sun. Then we came back to the real world.
We also embarked on a new journey, by agreeing to host a German exchange student for a semester,  and she arrived about a week ago. So far, it’s been great. She’s smart, funny, charismatic,  and she actually speaks pretty good English… Thank you, Jesus!  Her and our son get along great. Our only issues have been with having to share her! Anyway, today is her first day as an American student and she was super nervous and excited. But I know she’s going to do great. Today is also my little guys first day of being in the Junior High.  A huge step, and he was just as nervous and excited as he is every year.

Speaking of firsts, I decided to start a new year today, too. So I went for a good, long, fast-paced walk. It was nice. Just me, my rock and roll Playlist and the pavement. I’m not making any promises,  but I’m going to try and live out my mom’s favorite thing to nag me about, “To thine own self, be true! ” And really, I deserve better from me. And so do my son and husband.  I haven’t been the best version of myself in a really long time. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been good. Just not great. So it’s time to get my crap together.

I won’t make excuses, but I’ve been in a rut lately… lacking a little bit of my usual pep and joy, focusing on the struggle rather than the journey.  My real estate career has seen more bumpy roads than pleasant  progress. I had a disastrous contact fall apart after two full months of trying to hold it together, and a million other hiccups along the way. Things are looking up now. But in the meantime, my husband’s been working his tail off to make us a living. It makes things stressful,  and it’s difficult sometimes to just let go and let God. But it’s what I need! I’m hanging onto a fear of failure and it’s time to just let go and trust that God is going to either catch me or give me wings… I’ll let you know how it goes!  😉

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Love and Loss

/ Kelly / Leave a comment

My last post was almost a month ago… Yet it seems like ages away. My husband and I had been trying to get pregnant for just over a year when we got the news that we were expecting. When I first read the little lines on the test, and the other five tests I took in the next 24 hours… I was terrified. It wasn’t pure fear, but rather fear mixed with excitement at the notion of a baby, joy in realizing our hopes and prayers were answered, relief that we could actually concieve, and the scary realization that in several months I would be in a labor and delivery room. We’re having a baby!

Having a baby isn’t all roses and candy. It’s scary stuff! And knowing what was coming, scared me. I’m not a spring chicken anymore. Layers of “fluff” now appear where I used to have muscle, stretch marks already line my soft belly, and evidence of too much junk food is obvious. I immediately regretted not starting that pre-pregnancy diet I had intended to start. But I was glad that I had found an explanation for why I had been feeling so exhausted and hungry lately. I was pregnant! We were having a baby!!

The next few weeks flew by and we celebrated with family and praised God for the gift of life and wondered and imagined about all the things this new baby would bring to our little world. My son was cautiously joyful at the thought of being a big brother. My husband was elated at being a new daddy to his first baby-baby. And everything was wonderful.

Until we went for our sonogram last Monday.  The appointment took twice as long as it should have. We were left in the sonogram room for about 45 minutes after the first attempt at finding a heartbeat and being told they needed to speak with the doctor. Then when the doctor, and another doctor, and two nurses came back in, they searched my womb while talking among themselves, not trying to explain what was happening. It was awful. After several minutes I asked point blank what was going on. The head doctor finally addressed me and explained that they were unable to find a heartbeat. He went on to say that either I was not nearly as far along as they had thought initially, or that the baby had stopped developing at some point and that “it just wasn’t a viable fetus”. Those are hard words to process. Viable fetus. It was our baby. Our love and pride and hopes and future. How did this happen? What was going on? How did we arrive at this place? In an hours time we had gone from giggling in the waiting room, wondering what our little baby would look like to… this? No clear answer, no guidance, just a million questions.

We left the facility in complete shock and confusion and despair. I cried, my husband consoled. I ran through the scenario a million times in my head on the way home, trying to figure out what was really happening. I contacted my local doctor and was advised that they needed to do some hormone tests to find out where we were with the pregnancy.  After the first round, they told me I was in the range of 0 to 6 weeks pregnancy hormone levels, which is about 4 to 6 weeks less than where they thought I was. They told me the next round would tell us whether the pregnancy was still progressing and I just wasn’t as far along as they initially calculated, or if the pregnancy was failing. We were given hope. A glimmer of salvation from the worst case scenario. And we waited.

Friday, I called the doctors office several times with no answer,  or was told they would call back. Finally, around 4:00 the nurse called and said they had my results but couldn’t read them to me without the doctor having signed off on them first, and he’d left for the day already. It would be Monday before we got any news. That would’ve been today. Friday night, the cramping and spotting began. I tried to ignore it and pretend it wasn’t what I was afraid it was. But by Saturday afternoon the pain was so much worse.

The only way to describe it was labor pain. It radiated and worsened and then would let up for a minute or so and then come again. The rest, you can imagine. It was soul crushing. I felt exhausted, cheated, and robbed, desperate for answers. Empty. I cried and cried. Then finally I slept. When I woke up,  there was a void where there had been joy. But it was over. And I was thankful for that at least.

We know that there are things in this world that we will never fully understand, and we know all things happen for a reason. God is in control of this situation and I trust fully in His wisdom and in His timing and plans for us. We will keep our heads above water by looking to Him and by petition and prayer, with Thanksgiving we will continue to make our hearts desires known to Him. Since sharing my story over the past week with other women, I have heard so many stories similar to my own and just last night I was comforted in a dream about our baby that now resides with the Lord in Heaven, patiently waiting for our reunion. God places people in our lives at just the right times and it is helpful to know that we are not alone in this pain and loss. I am grateful that the miscarraige happened so early in the pregnancy,  because I know it could have been so much worse. I can’t imagine the pain and loss of a stillbirth or late term miscarraige.  But I’m certain that it has to be nearly unbearable. I am so blessed to have an amazing family and friends,  a support group that is pulling me through this. And especially for a wonderful husband that loves and comforts me as much as I need. I hope my story will help another family someday and that to them also, God will bring a sense of peace and calm that I am experiencing as the days pass. Because really and truly, God is good. All the time.

Everything Changes

/ Kelly / 1 Comment

Well… It’s been a while since my last post and there has been some exciting changes come about. I had been feeling very tired the past few weeks. And even worse than being tired, I was super unmotivated. I was afraid I had just lost my marbles and wasn’t adjusting well to all the recent down time. Come to find out, I’m just pregnant! I took five different tests,  all positive. Took me awhile to grasp the idea that this was really happening. But it is very exciting.

We had actually been trying for about a year, so this was not unplanned, but it was a bit unexpected. I say that because I had sort of come to the conclusion that it just wasn’t in the cards for us to have another child. But  apparently it is! It’s been really emotional for me, and nerve wracking, since I am much more acutely aware of all the things that could possibly go wrong now than I was with my first child. Plus I’m much older and not in nearly as good of shape as I was the first time around either!

My husband is really excited, as this will be his second child, but first baby! For those of you who don’t know (and I haven’t quite gotten that far into my installment series, My Crazy Stupendous Life yet), my husband recently adopted my son. He is an amazing dad and I can’t wait to share this experience with him. My son is also very excited. He had his initial reservations about the whole “baby” thing. He worried where he would fit into this equation and how his role as the only child would change, both very normal and valid concerns.  I assured him that this was a good thing and that he will still be my sweetheart and that we are all in this together. He is feeling much better about it and is already being a great big brother, even though I’ve told him a million times the baby is just a tiny little pea in a pod right now.

I don’t know exactly how far along I am yet, but I imagine it should be somewhere around five or six weeks, so still very early. I have an appointment on Friday for all the blood work and family history stuff and then will meet with my doctor soon afterwards.  Hopefully they will give me a clear due date so we can start planning. I know we are not out of the woods yet, but it is wonderful to think that this is really happening.

I will keep you posted on my progress,  but I don’t plan on turning this into a pregnancy journal. There are plenty of other places to see that sort of content. Until next time…

Some people are sad.

/ Kelly / Leave a comment

So I have had some recent drama-ish situations lately. Mostly having to do with family and personal issues. And it makes me sad. And upset. And angry even. But mostly sad. Because people act like they don’t know they are being selfish or uncaring or two-faced or just plain mean. And that is sad. Those people are SAD. I will tell you about them now. Not to continue the drama, but in the hopes that one of two things will happen: (1.) If you are one of these people, maybe you will learn to see things from another point of view. (2.) If you’re dealing with one of these people, maybe you will get some relief in knowing you are not alone.

Issue #1: Drama Mama. And the resulting rediculousness.
My son has been playing baseball for the past 8 years. T-ball, little league, minor league and now majors. We’ve dealt with crummy coaches, horrible parents, bullying, shut-outs, you name it. He loves baseball. Most of the time. He has his moments of laziness and frustration but for the most part he really enjoys it.
Well, this year he ended up on a team made up almost solely of kids from a rival school. And it was difficult, to say the least. He literally had one real friend on the team – a home schooled kid that he’d played for several years with. Of course, my kid sat the bench most games because he wasn’t one of the coaches “boys”. Which is another issue, completely. But it did wear on me that he wasn’t even given a fair shake. The biggest issue was with the bullying and trash talking. And worse,  the lack of anything being said or done about it by  the coaches. It was bad.
To make matters worse, the middle of the season, his coach pits him against his one friend on the team and made some poor decisions that ended up causing a rift between the two. The other kids mom ended up calling me and telling me the kid was quitting the team. She went on to say how she felt the whole situation was wrong and we needed to take a stand for our kids and not let them be treated so poorly. She practically begged us to join them in standing up for what was right. And we were on board, because if we weren’t then my kid would’ve been all by himself against a team of bullies. So my kid decided to quit the team too,  with some encouragement from myself. So we just called it a loss. We’d try again next season. The End.
Except that it wasnt. A few days later I get a message from another parent who knew what had happened, asking if my kid had went back to the team. Of course, he hadn’t. But someone had. Hmmm. I thought surely that was a mistake, so I asked the other parent about her kid. She beat around the bush and then finally admitted that he had gone back to playing. Now, understand me, it was her pleas that got us to quit. And her endless phone calls and texts a few days before that convinced me that we were doing the right thing. So, what happened?  I felt betrayed. Short-changed. Used. Manipulated. Lied to. She asked us to take a stand and then she backs down without even so much as a phone call? I heard it from some other parent with a  kid on a different team. Who does that? So now my kid is off the team,  and her kid is playing again. Really!? That night when I told my kid that his buddy had gone back to the team he said, “Oh really? That’s funny. Wasn’t his mom the one blowing your phone up about how WE had to stand our ground and that kids can’t be jerked around like that?” I’m so glad he can read between the lines like his momma. Apple & Tree. And as for that other mom… sad. Sad that she was so easily swayed and unable to stand firm in her convictions as a parent, and sad that she doesn’t even realize the impact of her actions.

Issue #2: Faux Family Friend. And why I’m completely over it. 
So I had lunch with a friend today, and she proceeded to tell me all about a guy that is supposed to be my dad’s friend. My dad got hurt at work a few months ago and has been working at getting his health issues sorted out.  Anyway, this guy goes to great lengths to come by and check on my dad, to call and check on him, encourage him, etc. Once upon a time he was my brothers very best friend. He worked for my dad for several years. He worked with my dad for several months before my dad’s injury. He is supposed to be a friend.
Well, at lunch today, there was a completely different story. I learned a long time ago not to put too much weight or faith in this guy. And I heard again about how he talks about my family, including my dad and his injuries,  behind our backs. It was sickening. And to make matters worse, he only spreads his drama and lies to the people who will listen and who want to hear it. Which says something pretty specific about his audience. It’s like a negativity-mill. He churns out whatever it is that everybody wants to hear. Each group of people get a different spin and a tailor-made yarn. He’s like the male version of an attention seeking drama queen.
I’ve tried to talk to my family about what a snake in the grass he really is, and I hope they realize it sooner than later. But it’s hard to believe something bad about somebody that you’ve put your trust into. Like I told my mom today, I would love to just rip him a new one and tell him exactly what I think of him and call him out on his lies and two-faced antics. But I have learned that it’s not my place, nor my responsibility to confront someone about their actions. Because God takes care of all that for you. He rights the wrongs and redeems the opressed. And it’s only a matter of time. So I’m letting it go. Don’t get me wrong, if I run into him, he’s liable to get way more than he bargained for, because I don’t have it in me to just pretend like I don’t know what’s really going on. But I refuse to seek him out just to speak my mind. Because that would require me expending my time and energy on him. And he’s worth neither. He’s just sad.

Opportunity Knocks.

/ Kelly / Leave a comment

So as you may already know, I am just a little over two months into my return to a career in selling real estate. Things started out fast, with me getting four listings in about the first week. Then I ended up getting a contract on a property that wasn’t even listed with an extended closing date and have been working with a few buyers. But no money yet. Which is frustrating. But it’s how this all works. The market here is pretty steady so that’s comforting. And once you get a successful closing, you get paid. And closings generally take about 30 days from date of contract. If you’re lucky. It’s all sort of complicated and scary and frustrating. And at first I had some serious adjustment issues with having so much free time on my hands after working an 8-5 for the past six years. But I’ve kind of grown to enjoy the scheduling freedom. I can water the grass in the morning. I don’t have to rush to be at the office at 8 a.m. I can pick up my kid from school and plan dinner on most nights. It’s the little things that have become the big things to me now. And I didn’t realize how much I have been enjoying the little stuff until this past Friday…

I have this friend who is in “media”. (I don’t really want to say exactly who or what for the time being. Mainly because there’s still some stuff up in the air.) She is one of my newer friends since we just met a few years ago through an organization I became involved with, and only last year did I really get to know her outside of the organization we both work with, by joining a civic club that she participates in. Anyway, she’s absolutely great. She’s laid back, smart, a go-getter, a multi-tasker, driven, and completely hilarious. All qualities that I sort of have in common with her. We are like peas in a really fun pod. And this past Friday she asked if I could talk a little bit once our meeting was over. So we sat down together and she basically offered me a job. It is very flattering that she feels I would be perfect for the position and that she thinks it would work into a pretty lucrative and exciting career in “media”. But all of the sudden I found myself feeling very afraid.

Not afraid of the job itself, but afraid of the commitment that it would entail. I have grown to really enjoy my down time over the past 60 days or so, and I don’t really know how the scheduling would work with trying to balance two full time jobs would be – even if they are both “flexible schedules”. I don’t want to give up on real estate by any means, and I don’t want another job taking away from what I’m able to do with the real estate stuff. I’m pretty good with prioritizing my responsibilities and I’m sure I could swing it, but at what cost? Would it be at the cost of my lazy mornings spent watering plants and grass and planning my to-do list, or my after-school time with my soon-t0-be no-longer-little son? I have to admit, the money part of the proposition sounds really nice. I see our bank account dwindling a little bit, day-by-day and it really has me kind of freaked out. But I know that the money will come with the real estate stuff. All in due time… And the hubby makes plenty of money to cover the bills and necessities, but I know it has to be on his mind too.

I don’t like living paycheck to paycheck. I did that for the past two decades, almost. Don’t get me wrong, it’s much better than being in debt up to your eyeballs or unable to make ends meet on your own (I lived both of those scenarios, too.). But there’s more to life than money. The prospect of having good benefits again, and a steady paycheck are very appealing but I guess I am just going to have to figure out all the details on what my schedule would really be. In my mind, the situation boils down to Money vs. Time. And I know that time is much more valuable than money. And that money can make your time spent a lot easier. So what’s the bigger payout? Do I choose money and relinquish some (or very possibly MOST) of my free time with my family? Or do I hold on to my free time at the expense of our bank accounts? Which is more selfish and self-serving? It’s a hard call. I haven’t even gotten all the details on the job yet and I’m already stressing out. But at the same time, this could be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to have a career that would be as financially rewarding as it is FUN! Just when I thought I had things all figured out, I get thrown a curveball. Absolutely par for the course. So what’s a girl to do??? To Be Continued…

My Crazy-Stupendous Story – Part 2

/ Kelly / Leave a comment

So my first real crush and I set up a date the week before Valentine’s Day. He lived in a larger town about 45 minutes from me (whereas I was living in a town of just over 900 people with nothing to do) so I drove there to meet up with him for the date. We decided on dinner at a cozy little steak house and then a few games of pool at a popular sports bar. Dinner was great, the conversation was easy. We talked, we laughed, and we talked some more and then I totally schooled him at pool! (Ok, my rendition may be a little different than his, but I’m the storyteller here so we are just going to run with it.) As the night ended we held hands on the way back to the car and drove back to his place. (Stop. At this point I should probably insert a little additional history… Not everyone knows this but my BFF has an older sister that is my husbands age and who kept in touch with him after high school, so around the time I was about 18 or so we were partying in the same circles with him and my friends older sister… And there was a fast and furious romantic encounter that is still a little fuzzy for both of us but occurred, none the less. ((Yes, yes. I’m aware that this only further illustrates a lack of “appropriate” behavior on my part and that I was obviously the “wild” one in the group. Dually noted.)) Anyway, I was always smitten with him and we had this lingering bit of a spark already…

So we went in, sat on his couch for about ten minutes with his little dog that was growling and snarling at me the entire time… Super romantic, right? Actually it was really awkward/scary/frustrating/bizarre/annoying. And I remember thinking that this was the weirdest end to a date that I’d ever had. Hmmm, second thought, probably not. But this was NOT the end I had hoped for. So I decide it’s time to go since I still had a 45 minute drive home, and he walked me out to my car and I opened the drivers side door, leaned in to put my purse in the passenger seat while simultaneously rolling my eyes in utter disappointment that there wasn’t even a hint of a goodnight/goodbye smooch on the horizon, and BAM! As I turned around he snatched me up against him and laid it on me! It was the most amazing kiss I think I’ve ever had. I was in heaven. And he was in serious danger! I tell him now that he has no idea how close he came to being taken advantage of that night. For real. And then we said goodbye and I got in the car and drove away, never to return again. Not really. But I did go home. And the whole way I had a smile plastered on my face so big that I felt like a crazy person.

Over the next few weeks we talked on the phone, planned a couple of more dates that never actually happened, and then eventually it just plain fizzled out. He basically told me one day that he thought we should just call it good and leave it at that. He justified it with, “his new promotion, so busy at work, too far away, not fair to you, blah blah blah.” And I totally didn’t buy into that crap. (See, I am super stubborn and strong-willed and I feel like if you want something, you make it happen. And to me he was just being an absolute weenie-head.) So I left him alone. He didn’t call or text me anymore and that was it. I decided that he was a complete flake-ball and that I was glad I had found out so soon into the relationship instead of later on down the line after I had invested a lot of time and energy and emotion into it. And I figured there was some other girl where he lived, or that he didn’t like our kiss as much as I did, or that he just wasn’t attracted to me after all. You know, the normal stuff women think when a guy flakes out – because women are relationship-doomsday-preppers, always anticipating the very worst and mentally building ourselves up for these kinds of situations so that they don’t take us by surprise and completely crush us when they happen. And I moved on with my life.

Just before the one date I actually had with flaky, I had started going to these volunteer organization meetings (because I am also a “yes” kind of person and have a hard time turning down opportunities to help. Ugh.) Anyway, the meetings were interesting and there was a lot of really nice, good people there and it gave my son access to some great role models, and it was a safe place for us to hang out, free from any drama. I met some new people, got to know some people I already knew a little better, and they really seemed to appreciate us being involved. It was fun, too. My son was having a blast helping out and the group made him feel really welcome and integral to what they were doing, so it was good for him too. So we kept going. Plus it made it way easier to forget about flake-ball. There was this one guy there, that my son had really grown kind of attached to, and it was reciprocated by the man. He knew that my kids dad was not in the picture, other than to cause as much chaos and scary, unwanted ridiculousness in our lives as humanly possible, and I think that was probably a factor too, but he just stepped right into a mentor role with my son. I thought it was great and kind of sweet until my son called the man ‘dad’ one day. And I totally freaked out. But the guy didn’t freak out and he just rolled with it like nothing. He had two older boys that were just grown and so he wasn’t shocked or upset or weirded out like I was. And after awhile we started hanging out outside of the volunteer group.

It became a sort of “dating-by-default” kind of situation. It was very easy, very simple, very low pressure, very safe. And I was great with that. The man was good as gold to my son and we really did become great friends. We respected each other, we had fun together, and everything was a three person adventure. We went and did stuff all together, we even took a “family” trip… It was good. It was also kind of …. Hmmmm. It was almost like he was dating US. Which sounds nice for a single mom and a young boy that wanted a father figure. But it wasn’t really a relationship like I normally think of when you say ‘love’. He loved my kid, and my kid loved him. And we really liked, admired, and respected each other. We had a great time together. But it was more a relationship of ease. It was easy. And I kind of liked it that way. There was absolutely no hidden agenda, no unspoken expectation or obligations, no miscommunication, no drama. It was nice. And then, all of a sudden it got really complicated.

One day, out go the blue -nine months later- I get a call from Mr. Flaky asking what’s been going on. OH, REALLLLLLLY???!!!….. I can’t even begin to tell you how surprised and kind of pissed off it made me. So I politely tell him, upfront so that there was no confusion there, that I was seeing someone else and that technically I was ‘unavailable’ – and I asked what his intentions were? He asked if it was serious? I told him not really, but that if I was seeing him, I would offer the other guy the same courtesy of being upfront about the situation. And then he proceeded to tell me that I had to break up with the guy. Excuse me?!?! Who. The. Hell. Do. You. Think. You. Are. (Mouth agape.) I was flabbergasted. I explained that he was being rediculous, and that it had been nine months, NINE. MONTHS., since I’d heard so much as a peep from him, and that he was a total flake and that there was absolutely no way that I was going to dump this really nice guy that had done nothing wrong and who I was completely happy with, for a flake-ball. He then described how he planned to marry me and I fell down on the floor in a fit of laughter. Not really. But I kind of wanted to. Because he was a total jerk and I was head over heels for him and I was not about to just let him just waltz back into my life and break my heart all over again. But I didn’t tell him that. Because that would be dumb. So instead, I told him not to call me again and we hung up. End scene.

Over the next few weeks me and Mr. Easy still hung out and I told him about the weirdo that I had one date with that wanted to marry me after a nine month hiatus from the face of the earth, and we laughed about it because “oh my gosh, he is obviously out of his gourd crazy!!” And flaky would call or text and I wouldn’t answer or respond and I just kept trying to not react and to just let it fizzle out for him again like it eventually would. But it didn’t. He kept calling, and he kept texting. And I kept ignoring him and telling him to stop being a stalker. And in the middle of all this I was dealing with some major drama (like my sons sperm donor getting shot – yes, SHOT – during a burglary). (See, I warned you that I have had some wild and crazy life experiences. You’re starting to believe me now, aren’t you?) But he just kept on being super in love with me. So just before Thanksgiving, I’m sitting in my living room with my son and Mr. Easy, and I realize that I really REALLY wished it was flake-ball there with us instead. And I felt awful. I felt like I was being an idiot and that flaky would never work out and he really was a raving lunatic and that I was just as ridiculous for playing into his game. I pushed past the thoughts and tried not to let my mind wander anymore. But it was hopeless. I eventually broke down to my mom, telling her how I was feeling and she said, “Forget about Flake-Ball and just move on!” Not really. She actually told me some really wise, sage-wisdom kind of stuff about what the heart wants and God’s will for our lives and fate and second chances and having to see for myself what was going to happen. She’s very smart.

So the next time flaky called, on Thanksgiving Day, I gave him every reason I could possibly think of as to why a relationship between us would never in a million years actually work out, including the fact that he had never even met my son (which is a really big one!), who I affectionately refer to as ‘The Warden’, because he’s super stingy and protective of me especially around men, because “You are NOT dating my mom, regardless of who you are or what your actual purpose of having any sort of contact with her might be.” And flaky told me how he would make it work and that he’d been praying about it and he just knew that I was supposed to be his wife. So I told him that I would pray about it too. And I did. But first I called Mr. Easy and told him that the wacko guy that wanted to marry me might not be so wacko after all and that I really felt like I might have some unfinished business with him. And he understood and agreed to step out of the picture. It was really scary. Terrifying, actually. But I had to find out for myself what was going to happen. So I told flaky that task #1 was for him to come to my house, the very next day, and meet The Warden. Because that was going to either make or break him. And guess what? He agreed to come. To Be Continued.

Life in Motion.

/ Kelly / Leave a comment

Several years ago, my life was crumbling down around me. It wasn’t that I had found myself in an unexplainable situation that I had no control over. I wasn’t simply a victim of circumstance. I had, in fact orchestrated this glorious mess that was my own. And it hurt to own it. It was painful and raw and tender and new, but somehow it was my own doing, and I hated it. There was no switch to flip that would make it turn off, or balm to take away the sting. No way out. I had to go through it in order to come out on the other side.

I had come from a great family, had a wonderful childhood, loving parents, Christian upbringing, morals and values. But somewhere along the way I had traded that storyline for something much different. I had gotten into a different crowd, one without morals and values and good, caring people. It had become my new story and I wore it like a veil. It covered my happiness and my laughter. There was a difference in me that even I couldn’t readily see. An unfamiliarity with the image I saw in the mirror. Looking back it is scary, and sad. Sad. It makes me sad to remember my lack of backbone back then. I was afraid of making a move in the right direction again, back toward where I needed to be. Where I wanted to be. I thought that because I had chosen this path and spent so long on it and gone through so much to earn that set of scars, that it was where I had to go. There was no going back, no escape from myself and what I had come to know as my ‘normal.’

I thought I was fooling everyone. But I was only fooling myself. Friends tried to reach out to me, family tried to intervene. But I thought I deserved this life I had created. I didn’t know that my parents cared so much. I didn’t know that their prayers had saved me a hundred nights from some awful fate, and that their petitions to God were keeping me afloat while I was trying my hardest to sink. But they prayed anyway. I thank God they prayed. I will never forget the morning my dad drove me to the airport with a one-way ticket to a friends house in another state. He told me this was my ticket out, that I had to decide whether to sink or swim. We cried. He told me about their prayers for me, and their hopes for me. How they knew I was still in there somewhere. I didn’t want to go. I was afraid of what was going to happen once I really sobered up. I watched him from the plane, through hot, exhausted tears. He stood there until I couldn’t see him at the window anymore. It was one of the hardest things I ever did.

When the plane landed and my friend picked me up at the airport, it was bittersweet. She almost didn’t recognize me. My glow was hidden, my smile still lost somewhere. I think I was still in a fog. It felt like I must have slept for days when I first arrived. But eventually I woke up. We would talk over coffee and cigarettes. I laid open my soul to her with the hopes that she could help me empty the bad and replace it with good. And that’s exactly what she did. She listened. She cared. And she didn’t judge. Her husband was kind, and generous with their home. They were my resting place. It was hard for the first few months. Old friends tried to contact me, tried to slither back into my life. But I had changed. In the coffee and conversations and cigarettes, I had found myself again. I remembered who I was and who I wanted to be. I wasn’t the weak-minded shell that I had let myself become. I had a purpose here in this life.

I didn’t know then what my purpose was, and things haven’t been all roses and candy since that time, years ago. But I am always moving forward. Sometimes there are still thoughts of guilt and remorse. But I don’t let them take root. I am the gardener of my heart, and I work diligently to keep those weeds from sprouting. It takes perseverance and patience, and a love for yourself that must be learned again. But it’s so worth it. I will never go back to that dark, unforgiving place. I belong in the light, with the sun on my face and the wind at my back. I still cry, but I read somewhere that we must cry ourselves forward, out of that moment. It’s okay to cry, but you cannot stay in that place where the tears overpower you. You must cry yourself forward. So I cry myself forward sometimes.

Thinking of all the blessings I have been given, especially today – when I think of God ransoming me from the death I deserved, by giving his only son to die in my place, on a cross, with all the shame of my sins… It’s unexplainable. I am utterly unworthy. I would never be able to earn His forgiveness. But God so loved ME. Who am I, Lord? That you would lay down your life for me? A wretch. A sinner. I am Yours. And I am so profoundly thankful for your unending mercy and grace. I am thankful for second chances. And third, and fourth… I’m a work in progress, I know. But I know who holds my future, Lord. And I am so glad it’s not in my control. I tend to make a mess of things. But I keep on trying to do better. I am so thankful for the precious child I have been given, and the amazing husband that meets me right where I am, without judgement – only encouragement and love. I am so very blessed. And I don’t deserve any of it. It’s all because of Gods unending love for me. Thank you, Jesus!