Bobbling Along the Bottom of the Beautiful Briny Sea

    There is a huge part of me that wishes my life was way less complicated but then I look back at all the adventures and laugh. I shake my head frequently wondering how in the heck I or those around me managed to survive. Today was an adventure all in its own right because of the few aspects of today that forced me to reflect on my life around this time last year. It all swirls around a loud obnoxious truck that I hate with every fiber in my being and a small tan camper with the main character thrown into the story, my dear husband. I will break the story up into two parts. First I need to discuss some history so you understand how this ties into the multicolored truck and a small tan camper.

Do not let the black and white filter fool you. It is to hide the multi-colored truck and the small camper.

    Close to this time last year, I was pregnant. I felt as if nearly on the verge of going into labor. It had been like my last two successful pregnancies where I felt amazing. One pregnancy prior was not full of lollipops and pony rides. I suffered with the misfortune of a miscarriage. You know, the death of child. The dreadful event that most are unable to talk about or if they do, people give a super insensitive response.  My miscarriage was related to an imbalance of my hormone levels. I joyfully deal with Graves Disease. A thyroid issue that the doctors diagnosed me with back in 2010 or maybe it was 2011 but regardless, the diagnoses was a game changer. I will never forget the two year battle of walking in and out of the hospital and/ or doctors offices where it always felt like the same song and dance. I was 22 in the beginning. I was young, much more youthful with a materialistic attitude and the added bonus of being skinny. My youth and looks must have somehow led the medical staff to dismiss all of my complaints and symptoms.
           I remember one particular visit to the hospital. It had been the third trip that month. All the same complaints of feeling like I had just finished running a race.Only I truly hate to run nor have any desire to burn off all my fat.  I was eating three times the amount of my husband and yet I lost 30 lbs in 6 weeks. It sounds fantastic but it was not. I was so hyped up I could hear my heart pounding in my head when I sat down. Yet the doctor suggested I go home. I needed to take Advil because no girl my age could possibly feel as awful as I did. As I walked out the door feeling frustrated, I overheard the doctor pull my husband off to the side and insinuate that I was only a drug seeker and my symptoms were not real.

         Weeks later I collapsed while walking down the hall of the hospital. My heart rate had been measured at around 180 and my blood pressure was 200 and something with the bottom number over a hundred. My heart was beating too incredibly fast. Numerous trips in and out of the doctor offices and test after test led me down a very amazing path. I say amazing because it ripped a very materialistic attitude right out from deep inside of me. I was forced to think about life and at times feared  whether I would be alive to watch my daughter grow up.
         The funny part about that time in my life is that I will never forget the day I was diagnosed. Now, please do not get me wrong. I love doctors and respect them. However I feel that some are so book smart and so career focused that they forget one major component of life. Compassion! They forget that people are in fact, people. With that being said, the doctor who diagnosed me was in fact one of those doctors. We had dealt with him on numerous occasions. He waltzed right up in our tiny white walled room fit for a crazy person. As if having the time of his life, he announced that one of the tests came back positive. It meant I had a thyroid disease. He went straight into how studies show 3 out of 5 people diagnosed with a chronic disease end up with their marriage ending in a divorce. Wow! Nothing like going straight for the jugular. In a whooping 5 minute time window the doctor not only diagnosed someone with a disease that uses a word eerily familiar to gravestones, death and the end of your life plus he managed to dish out an added bonus. He informed me that my husband will leave me. Super awesome sauce!!!! Now the story gets fun.

      My husband is so chill about anything and everything. It is difficult at times to read his emotions. He is Dutch and apparently his demeanor is a typical characteristic for the Dutch. I have learned over the years that he smiles with his eyes. Unlike me his smile never hides his whole face nor does it force his eyes to close. Whether it rains or snows he stays right on keeping on with that same super chill attitude. On this particular moment I saw that twinkle in his eye. I knew he had an ace up his sleeve but I was too shocked to care. He rustled ever so slightly in his chair while leaning forward with his hands rested on his knees. His head was very controlled as he raised slightly. He looked at the doctor and interrupted his routine speech he had probably given to a thousand other patients.

My husband cleared his throat and stated, " I have one question. Is there lemon laws?" 

The doctor was obviously rattled, confused and barely made clear speech. "um, excuse me? I am trying to explain to you your wife's condition and what you can expect." 

Rodney spoke again. "I know. I understand but are there lemon laws for wives? I am asking because my wife is obviously broken and we've been married only a short time. Are there any laws that state I can return her. You know, like with a brand new car?"

     That's my husband.He successfully succeeded in breaking the tension and easing my stress levels. He is a noob but he is my noob.

    Read Part 2 for the rest of the story about how my husbands need to improve my spirits led into a grand adventure during a vacation that included snow covered mountains followed by the sandy beaches where the wild mustangs roam. 

It could ALWAYS be worse

                                                                                    

     

        


      Today. It was pure hell. Often all it takes is a change of perspective to take a negative moment and turn it into a positive experience.
        My husband and I were charging forward with the restoration of the hardwood floors in the bedroom we are currently working on. The process has been long and we have spent many nights with little sleep in order to make progress while the children sleep. Recently we finished the floors. They look gorgeous and I could not be more proud. Finally we saw light at the end of the tunnel. One major milestone has been accomplished. My husband turned to me the following night while we admired our work and stated, "I should have this all done in two weeks." Whoo woo I thought to myself. It has already taken months just getting to this point. However a small part of me had doubts. I took a mental assessment of the room only to realize the walls all still need another coat of paint to cover the splattered stain on the walls. A window plus a closet still need trim. The baseboard needs to be cut, installed, and primed. Once the trim gets a coat of prime, it still needs to be painted.

            Have you ever had "one of those days or weeks?" You know the kind where you go into survival mode and just keeping chugging along but everything on the inside wants TO SCREAM OUT AND USE SOME PROFANITIES?!!!! It is like taking a bucket of water and at different moments the stress is equivalent to adding more water to the bucket. The bucket keeps filling up until it gets so full it all has to come pouring out. The bucket is at its max level and cannot possibly take anymore.

         Many people know our situation with our house and the current state of repair. So often I have heard the statement, "Gosh I don't know how you do it." To be honest, I do not. I do not cope well on any level. What people typically see is my happy go lucky attitude followed by a huge smile that forces my eyes to close. On numerous occasions that smile has caused several photographers to ask me to smile less in order to keep my face visible for pictures. However my husband, the man who spends the most time with me in a private setting is fully aware that that smile fades. There are sad days. There are days where the bucket spills over and I say things I regret. I struggle to cope and feel my shoulders cannot possibly take one more day of trying to accept that better days are coming. My outlook on life and my most used phrase is, "it could always be worse." I truthfully believe that however I am still human and stress is a major Debbie downer for my life when it accumulates.


      Here we are three weeks later. Not one more thing has been completed in the bedroom. There the room still sits with gorgeous wood floors I am forced to walk by daily. The floors do look wonderful yet the room is bare. I still see unfinished projects and it has become a thorn in my flesh. I keep thinking about how we are going into living in this house for the second year. Given a lot has been done but not one room has been completed in its entirety. I cannot decorate and all of my photos and decorations all sit throughout our house or in our attic. It is beyond frustrating. We are unable to have people over to visit and our house is not a place for birthday celebrations or for a chat. It is dusty. I currently have a table saw sitting in what should be our living room. On top of that, I have major OCD about clutter and cleanliness. Here and in this state, cleaning my house only goes so far. Maybe others would not see the dirt in the cracks from where one floor ends and another floor begins but I do. I know it exists and it eats away at me.

       Then to make matters worse my three girls have all been sick for the last two days. There has been a lack of sleep along with days full of shrieking, crying and just down right poor decision making.  There is the child who recently discovered how to take her diaper off. She seems quite proud of herself and so were we. Each time she would smile big and clap for herself along with the expectation that we should clap as well. We did, except now I regret that encouragement. Today she took her diaper off. It was followed by her peeing all over herself and my floor. It scared her half to death so she tried running away from the liquid flowing down her leg. Her lack of coordination caused her to slip and fall flat on her back in a puddle of pee. It was a mess. Life did not stop. My other daughter at some point throughout the day decided today of all days was a great day to bring her chicken inside the house. I heard the clucking noises from upstairs. I went to investigate only to find a rouge chicken without anyone around. I discovered my daughter quietly playing with Legos and apparently forgetful to the fact that she had brought "Rosie" indoors. It did not stop there. Rosie pooped on our kitchen floor. My daughter thought using her hand to clean up Rosie’s poop followed by wiping it off on her shirt was the perfect remedy. By that point, I wanted to throw in the towel and call it a day.

      A huge part of me wanted to quit but I am a parent that cares a whole awful lot. I forced myself to apologize to my girls for a lack of patience and for the things I regretted saying throughout the day.  While doing so, my daughter spoke up and told me, "Mom, it's like you tell us. This doesn't change anything. We still love you to the moon." Boom! There in that moment I discovered grace from the heart of a child. It was powerful and inspiring.
   
        I know that my three little's depend on me. I am part of their whole world. They look to me for encouragement, love and support and that fact is the reason why I don't lock myself in a room and give up. We might have taken the easy route for the rest of the night which meant they did not get a bath or I did not whip up a home cooked meal. I may have even had a meltdown and cried feeling sorry for myself while expressing to my husband my distaste for this house and all of the unfinished projects. However I know my girls did eat even if it was chips with cheese, salsa and beans. They did put on clean pajamas to go to sleep at night with their freshly brushed teeth. If the truth be told I felt thankful that we all made it through the day safe and still alive.

        I have to constantly remind myself that even if my life may not be perfect, there are many aspects of my life that is way better than how it could be. It is a terrible fact to know that I have parents who never call to ask how I am doing. I have parents who never attended my wedding or showed up for my college graduation. Although that is nothing new, it still hurts to know that while some people grieve for their dead parents who actively played a role in their lives, I frequently grieve for parents that are alive and choose to not be a healthy or active part of our lives. My husband and I navigate through this life and journey alone. We have his mom who helps us with the children. Besides the love of our friends, we do not have a supportive family that helps regularly to pick up the slack. We do this together and as our own little family. That fact is tough to swallow at times and yet I know the blessings.
        Our children go to sleep at night with a roof over their head and their bellies full. They never have to question the devotion my husband and I have towards them. I tell them daily how much they are loved, adored and explain to them that they are valuable. I never want them to question their worth. My children will never have to figure out how to whip up Mac & Cheese to feed themselves around the age of 5 years old. I have got their back and will always be there regardless of what decision they make or do not make. I will always love them to the moon. They will never have to deal with a split home or yearn for their dad’s attention. Their dad always coaches their soccer games and he shows up to every parent teacher conference or school event regardless if he just came off of a 12 hour night shift. My husband and I do everything in our power to be good parents to our children because our past has encouraged us to be better people FOR OUR CHILDREN.
     There is so much people see, judge or question and yet people never know all those private moments. People always see how great a person’s life might be because they fail to see at what price the blessings cost. Behind closed doors those daily struggles still exist. I have to pray my heart out daily and allow myself to take times out for myself. In doing so, people outwardly see my huge smile that forces my eyes closed. By God’s grace I continue to maintain joy and a willingness to push forward daily. Despite days like today full of slippery floors of urine and poop I know that "it could always be worse".

       

When To Draw A Line In The Sand

      

            When we first bought our house, we found numerous peculiar things about the house. One of those being locks we found on almost every interior door. The doors all had latches that would go across each door and a few of them still had padlocks hanging from the latch. We never really noticed nor paid much attention when we did a walk through before buying the house. As odd as that may seem to not have noticed, it is true. The house was in pretty bad shape all over that there was plenty to look at. With all the doors sitting open, we never noticed. Discovering the locks took us by surprise once we bought this worn out fixer upper and with my vivid imagination, I ran a thousand possible what ifs by my husband as we tried to make sense of the padlocked doors. I could only conclude that the previous owner must have been some drug dealer who hid his stash of cash and/or goods inside. We were never quite prepared for the real story.

      Over the last year I ran into people here and there who happen to know us through “so and so” within the local community. Each person was born and raised within the same town so we began to generate several different background stories on the house. My husband and I really just shook most of the stories off because like all small towns they are filled with plenty of gossip. The gossip is always the same where there is two sides to every story and yet the truth lies right down the middle. However, despite my strong belief in trying to live right I am still human. I too get caught up in a good story and especially one that relates to us. All the stories we kept hearing were told almost exactly the same.  I could not help but fish for more information. I had a need to know and like most people I still find myself getting caught up in some downright dirty drama. That is life.

            Here goes the gist of the deal with our padlocked doors. The people drug me elbow deep into this story and I nearly fell off my seat from how juicy the details were even down to the affair. A couple previously lived here. The husband worked for the school district. I can leave out some other details or else it might get too personal. Anyhow his wife stayed home and was not allowed to work outside the home or drive. Whaaaattt? I know, right? Anyways apparently he started having an affair and it had gone on for years. The husband went as far as too even buy his mistress a new car. Mind blown! He ran off with her and left his wife here at the house and he took the kids. The kids got in the way so they got shipped back to their mom. The husband came back and kept locking doors and rooms just to keep his wife out of parts of the house. It got worse over time where he kept coming back and even pushing her more and more out of parts of the house. It got so bad that he and the kids ended up kicking and locking her out of her own home. Let that sink in for a minute.

            Scary and so very, very sad all at the same time. How in the world could that happen? I know I pondered over that.I see how not only was the guy the scum of the earth but let us look for a moment at the wife. She was so beaten down and so insecure that she failed for years to even have a voice. She failed to know her value and worth otherwise she would have never even allowed some man to drag her that far into such a messed up situation. The issues started prior to the man’s affair.

        I am by no means meek, mild and or quiet. I have been referred to occasionally as kind but bold. I have a bleeding heart that does and will break for anyone hurting, going through trials and I will do everything in my power to help those willing to help themselves. However, I know when I am being stepped on and I often find myself wishing I had sat on my hands. I stand up for those unable to speak for themselves. People close to me know I can speak up when pushed. Some have heard me call my own husband out on his nonsense. Of course I know which battles to pick and I know when to take a seat. He is the head of our house and I have nothing but the utmost respect for my husband. However, he can have off days where he lacks sleep and he can have days where his pants get a little too heavy.  I find him getting short with me and thinking he runs this ship alone. I have also over the years found him making just some poor choices and I know then and there it is time for me to let him know I disagree. My job and goal is too encourage him to be a better man and human being. I expect the same from him in return.

In the community around it seems that women are expected to be meek and to be mild and to let the husband run rampant when and where he feels necessary. Girls are taught or encouraged to be the weaker sex and to feel intimidated by boys. That mentality grows into adulthood. Ladies, teach your girls at a young age to be strong, to be fierce and to find themselves. Help them to love who they are and to encourage them that no means no and that their yes, means yes.There is absolutely nothing wrong with approaching your husband and out of a place of respect and love, letting him know you disagree. There is nothing wrong with knowing your value and if and when a situation arises where a man refuses to hear your opinion, take a walk. No woman should give up her voice, give up her dreams and more importantly, find herself locked within the confines of her own home. How incredibly sad. My heart breaks and yet it is a huge reminder to me that teaching my girls to maintain a voice is the right path. They know their likes, dislikes and are encouraged to speak those openly while maintaining their class.There is a line between standing up for yourself and being down right rude.

         To this day my husband laughs and brings up one Christmas long ago. A dear friend, bless her heart, but she bought me a book for Christmas. I guarantee at some point she showed up unannounced only to walk in and hear me giving my husband the business. She leads her life very differently and in return she felt compelled to buy me, “A Spirit Controlled Woman” as a Christmas gift. I took that as constructive criticism and read the book. I figured I had nothing to lose. The book only fueled me to realize that yes, in fact I do have a very free and strong willed spirit. It is who I am and God is teaching me daily. I have found tact and other ways to get a point across without stamping a foot and insisting immediate changes. However, you best believe that my husband knows where I stand. He knows that I won’t hesitate one second to speak up.

          I pray my girls grow up to be the same way. I pray they grow up to know how to look for a good man. A man with a kind heart and a willingness to better himself daily and a man willing to recognize that marriage is a unity that should be lived with both people equally playing a part. I hope that I guide them daily to trust God and to learn to recognize discernment so that if they do date a man with a controlling spirit that they learn to jump ship. No man is worth chasing after just to lose yourself. I hope you too will join me in helping to guide these young girls so that they never find themselves living with padlocks on their own doors.
-Sarah