Barely Insane

Its the safest frame of mind in the world today

The truth every woman needs to know about Ropes and Spare bedrooms.

My New Years blog is a little early- and it may take you until 2014 to read it all- but I combined two blogs into one- This is definitely a chick-flick blog.

I feel like I have spent the entire year of 2013 hanging on to a very short rope for dear life- I’ve tied knots in the rope to keep from falling, I have the scars to prove how many times the stupid rope has burned me- I honestly feel like my hands are raw from just holding on to it.

I understand we all need a little madness in our life or we never dare to cut the ropes that either tie us down or leave us hanging on–or worse, choke us half to death
.
But sometimes you have to be a little crazy, a little mad, a little brave, and a little ignorant to just blindly cut yourself free.
Because as crazy as the ropes in life make us- we allow ourselves to get so accustomed to them that we think that our “security” comes from “holding on” tightly or even worse- we end up believing that we ARE the rope-and that others desperately need us in order to have something to cling to in their life.

From the beginning of time,  we all begin our own life in the “real world”  the same way. It starts the moment that someone cuts our umbilical cord; which prior to birth supported each of us. Some people go through life trying to find ways to reattach themselves to someone or something that will supply their every need- others become the rope or lifeline that those types of people try to grasp onto and then a special few actually enjoy free-falling, living life to the fullest in the moments they pass through, with no ropes to tie them down.

I think my two oldest children may end up being people such as this-and I admit to being a little green with envy at times when they take off down less beaten paths- but I admit, I am extremely proud that even though I felt hog tied by ropes much of the time- I taught them how to cut loose.

I had one of my most hysterical and sarcastic friends tell me once in that husky voice of hers, that “she didn’t mind the ropes in her life or even hanging on by a thin one- because any cords binding her in life- were all made of satin”

I laughed- but I remember thinking at the time that my “personal ropes” resembled the old, worn out, thick, quadruple braided, heavy duty twine cable ropes…like the kind of rope they used in games of tug-of- war in school.
I was always in the “anchor” spot and everyone in front of me constantly bitched about pulling any of the weight.

In comparison- I may not have minded satin ropes that much either.

2013 has found me asking myself many times “what binds me? What keeps me from doing and being everything God called me to be?”

“What ropes in life have I clinched on to so hard that I’m allowing my flesh to be torn apart just to keep from letting go?”

Or better yet- “who else is even pulling on this rope with me- or am I the only one left holding on?”

Deep thoughts- maybe. But I think as women sometimes we trade the “ropes” we hold on to; in the same manner as we trade the many hats we wear. We go from wearing the chef hat, to the chauffeur, maid, nurse, teacher…the list goes on and on.
We jump between the roles we fill in life- as if we were swinging from rope to rope on the monkey bars, or in reality,  as if we were full speed ahead on the real life ropes that are found on an obstacle course that only females compete on. Our eyes are always on the next rope- never looking down- never enough time to think about exactly what it is we are doing- we just DO IT or fall..
And we have been trained to think that to “fall is to fail”

It can become as competitive as the TV show Ninja Warrior- with those uptight “play group” mommies and PTA professionals playing the part of the judges that keep up with which “mommy” is in the lead-

It’s always that one “super amazon mom” who jumps from rope to rope, never missing a beat and finishing in record time-with the cleanest house, the coolest party favors, she still uses table settings and throws Tupperware parties- and can somehow pull off  a “Pure Romance” party that doesn’t come off as crude as they really are.
She can craft like Picasso, may actually own stock in Pinterest- her kids always match and she is always selected as the “room mom” at the school.

Her clothes are in fashion, her body still firm, no one has figured it out yet, but she somehow has her own income, the worst part is,  she doesn’t need a boob job even though she runs the local “La-Leche” center and is still breast-feeding her 5-year-old!
This Amazon Mom– who I promise- all of us “other” ladies know- also manages to do all this without cracking the Mary Kay makeup covering her face or breaking a single well manicured nail.

And we won’t even get into how well she swings from the ropes labeled “wife” and “entrepreneur”

The point is- somewhere in life-I think the rest of us ladies find ourselves thinking we should be perfect, while hanging on to a rope that is kind of suspended between one role or another- or suddenly we look back and the ropes we have always used in the past to hang on to– are gone.

We find ourselves 20 pounds overweight, yet exhausted from the marathon of life. The sad part is we stay in jogging suits or yoga pants for so many years, in order to at least comfortably run the obstacle course day in and day out, that we don’t even notice that our “athletic attire” is currently two sizes to small until we get tagged in some picture on Facebook, that we didn’t even have the time to personally take while at one of our kids school programs or sporting events. We cringe, figure up all the calories we burn jumping like fools from rope to rope all day long, put down the glass of wine and grab a diet coke and decide to hate that “amazon mom” a little more as we Google “quick weight loss” clinics nearby.

Then we usually admit to our-self that  we are tired, but the thought of letting GO doesn’t register just yet.

Our older kids graduate- the middle kids move to middle school and we remember that upper grades don’t need room mothers anymore- PTA gives way to Booster clubs and then college comes and it leaves you with something new and completely foreign….

Its called “spare bedrooms.”

The problem is this- I’m gonna be honest here- I may be stoned for it later- but it’s my blog… So here is the TRUTH about those damn “ropes” and the “spare bedrooms”
that every woman hitting middle age MUST know.
Nobody is born knowing how to climb ropes-or swing from them or even hang on to them- Not to mention most of us girls freaken hate “rope climbing” anyway!
As a kid, we probably came to school with a note from home to be excused from PE in order to NOT have to participate on a day that we had to climb ropes!
Or as a mama-we wrote our own daughter that excuse too.

Rope climbing or even hanging on to one- is a sport made for people with lots of upper body strength- and lets face it- MEN are the ones created to have the upper body strength- not women!
We have just been tricked into thinking more and more of the roles made for men are OUR job.
Most men today have less upper body strength and far more fat around the middle than ever before- and women end up building upper body strength by carrying DEAD weight around while hanging on to a rope.

It’s like that comedian who jokes about his wife paving the driveway, while he yells at her from the porch.

“Hey baby? Man, it’s hot as hell out here! Look, don’t worry about emptyin’ that ashtray in the den, I done got it, all right? Did it for you, sweet pea. I’m gonna take a nap now.”
It’s funny-
But on too many levels its true.

We get praised for being enablers and we give away the right to be cherished-
We earn respect by how well we hold on to the ropes in life and we loose the right be honored or judged by our hearts.

We somehow learn to think that our worth comes from our appearance, yet fail to take the time to take care of that appearance without feeling guilty. We get down on ourselves when we pack on pounds from stress, but get interrupted a thousand times if we attempt to shut the door and exercise at home or have your entire family track you down with nothing short of an APB if you sneak off to the gym. As a woman one of the ropes you learn to swing from first,  is how to shower, potty and take care of any other private matters while little fist pound on a door. EVERYTHING on the obstacle course is TIMED. You may hit the years where you can find time for a hobby or jog or do a few things for you, but even that is on a TIMED schedule, it’s just another rope..and if your running late or something comes up, the rope you looked forward to grabbing is the one cut from the daily schedule.
The truth is, I don’t care how well you manage it, or how high your top score is, like it or not- you’re not super woman because you can swing from a lot of ropes-and I don’t care if you hold the Ninja Warrior record for holding on to a rope longer than anyone else- you will eventually let go.

And the funniest part is this. IF you had ever taken the time to look down while on that obstacle course, instead of looking directly at the next rope you had to grab or loose it all and fall- you would have seen a bunch of ladies in their mid 40’s and early 50’s looking fabulous, with their feet planted firmly on the ground and laughing their butts off at you!
Lesson learned.

That’s the truth about the ropes.
Now here is the truth about the “spare bedrooms”

That broken heart you expected to feel while standing in that spare bedroom- void of the piles of dirty clothes and the rest of your precious child’s personal belongings once you pack him or her off to college or launch them into  life…. It’s a myth.
You DON’T actually see this room as being EMPTY or filled with sadness.
You may not ever admit it- but I promise- standing in that empty room and feeling like it’s the END of something, is NOT what you will feel.

What you will see, is an empty space that is FILLED with possibilities.
It may shock you so bad that you feel guilty-Or you may even fake a breakdown in order to go to bed for the day- while secretly plotting your next move and surfing ideas on pinterst.
Either way..while your wiping away tears that your husband thinks are from sadness- YOU already KNOW that you see a “treadmill” in that spare room…or a yoga mat- or a craft table or an easel and canvases with paints and brushes galore…

Or in my case- an original piece of artwork, in the form of a painting of John Lennon,  walls decorated with everything from music notes to paper roses, a 1947 Philco radio cabinet which I restored and then turned the back of into shelving to hold my REAL record player, my vinyl albums on a shelf, a comfy day bed with soft sheets and cool covering for nights when the hot flashes get a little to bad, but most importantly, a corner desk with a computer and all the inspiration I need to write until my heart is content. From that spare bed room, I found a little bit of heaven. My “Peace Out Room” came to be.

And then once you enter into that space–that space that holds your passion–You start cutting ropes.

I will agree that you feel a pain that you remember from your early years- it really does resemble the pains of labor. You will find yourself having to fight through some rough moments, breathing in the right places, using Lamaze exercises to keep from going postal on the husband or older kids or extended family that want to keep you focused on their needs above all others or throwing off the covers and tossing and turning like you did in labor, but this time its an inferno from within caused by falling estrogen. You will lose sleep the way you did those last few weeks of pregnancy, insomnia comes back with a bang–but this time, you have YOU that your up with, YOU can read, create, invent, until your heart is content or until you finally crash, which ever comes first.
You find yourself with the desire to nest again-as if you’re preparing for something… Then you realize- it really is the birth of YOU.

All those dreams that you put on hold or never fully considered before racing off into grown up life and taking on the role of wife, mother, friend, those dreams burst forth like an exploding volcano

You find peace with yourself, you even find peace with the things in life that you messed up on. There is a compassion that you discover that you have for yourself and its very similar to that compassion that you gave to your children. It’s an unconditional love for you that does not require a rat race or an obstacle course or a bunch of ropes that you have to hold on to in order to experience. Yes, your emotions can go from sad to happy to furious to nobody is home, in under 60 seconds–but I have been told that is temporary and therefore, I am not concerned. If the low estrogen makes me crazy sometimes, then I can handle that, because it also makes me crave chocolate like I did as a teenager, only the “who gives a sh%*” hormones have left the building too, so I can eat the chocolate and not feel the least bit bad about it. Works for me

Besides, at this same time that everything feels crazy, there is this spark of excitement about the future.
Your husband may or may not be able to adjust- but the kids will- I promise. They have these lives of their own and your required to cut the cord (or double braided- super thick rope) and allow them to live that life-
Its their own personal LIFE-Mistakes and all!

So with a new year- I understand the questions that plagued me all of last year. I wasn’t suppose to ever be so good at rope climbing.

Not that I excelled at the sport by any means- heck I left each of my kids somewhere by accident at least once when they were little.

But I over compensated by being able to juggle, swing from ropes, make things appear here and there like a master illusionist and could pull rabbits out of which ever hat I happen to be wearing better than any magician.
It left me feeling like I graduated high school and lived the dream of running away to join the circus..only to become the Main Attraction!!

So…

2013 ends with my retirement from the 3 ring extravaganza.
I have decided that those 20 to 30ish year old “Amazon moms” can have their moment under the spotlight.
I’m going to spend more time on actual amazon.com learning how to format this book I’m going to finish and hopefully publish as an eBook-and I’m going to do it from the beautifully transformed space of my “spare bed room.”

Because the simple truth is that the appearance of a spare bed room is what signals the beginning of a great change in a woman’s life, it means that there is ROOM in your life for you to think about yourself a little more again. As much as your husband may dislike the idea, and call you ten kinds of crazy, or complain that he has pneumonia because its 20 degrees outside and you have all the bedroom windows open-and he can “see his own breath”  His complaining doesn’t bother you, when its 210 degrees inside your skin at the moment, and that spare room becomes what centers you.  You can keep that room whatever temperature you want too.

I have come to the conclusion after much scientific research over margaritas or wine, or really light low carb beer, with other women my age, that men would have a much easier time of this “change” that his wife is going through,  if men in general, would just take their eyes off the fact that their wife is not “mothering” him anymore, and understand that it has nothing to do with him and no amount of pouting, fussing, or being patient and kind will ever bring it back. She just medically cant do it any longer.

When God has the eggs that let her become a mother dry up–so does her need to mother someone on a daily basis. Which is the reason our perfectly brilliant God had this change coincide with kids being old enough to be shooed from the nest. Without menopause, no kid would ever leave home!

She can’t hold on to all those ropes the way she did in the past, while swinging from the one that says “feed me” to the one that says “Love me” to the one that says “Tell me what to do” back over to the one that says “Feed me” She also cant stand in the anchor spot holding the rope any longer and participate in life’s tug-of-war.

Now, she can and will stand-off to the side and tell everyone else to pull and cheer for them- but if you end up face down in the mud–she is going to find it hysterically funny and probably laugh entirely too loud. My research also proves that if men would step up and stop following their poor wife (who is in the middle of menopause) around like a lost puppy- she wouldn’t go so nuts that she acts like she has rabies. Men hate menopause because suddenly, their very capable, very competitive, very loving and organized wife, who has managed the lives of her entire household with so little time–gets crazy enough to CUT the ROPE.. and she goes through every emotion known under the sun while she is free-falling.

If he is lucky–she lands in a spare bedroom with a passion to be creative.

Those amazon moms that led the pack and set the standard no one could live up too, they tend to cut their ropes and land in the arms of the bag boy at the grocery store, become scandalous cougars, end up on Prozac and then later, after recovery, they end up married to a rich man, with their on reality show–you just cant ever compete with those ladies. LOL

The women who have spouses who can’t adjust, they tend to cut the ropes and free fall in terror, only to land in the arms of the first man who makes them feel good about themselves.

That is the sad part of midlife. Statistics show the spike in the numbers of divorces during midlife is happening at twice the rate as it did 20 years ago ( I will also add my two cents in saying this divorce rate is probably higher than before because doctors stopped giving women estrogen that was derived from pregnant horses piss as hormone replacement over the past 20 years, which led to breast cancer, so men are having to EXPERIENCE menopause instead of the woman being medicated through it)

The really scary part is that 66% of the midlife or “gray” divorces are initiated by women. YIKES.

I am telling you, a panel of women, not in the midst of a hormonal rage at the time and joyfully sipping on margaritas have told me the problem and I agree–it’s as simple as the MAN accepting that for years, he benefited from her being a good mother, because she took care of him as well as she did her kids–If she cooked the kids a balanced and healthy meal, he got to eat it too. If she baked cupcakes, her husband got to eat some too- If  a woman had a house full of sick kids, and her husband caught the flu–she tucked him in, gave him his medicine and took care of him too.

Men tend to forget, that his wife was the one usually hanging on by a short rope at that point, and  if she got sick–she had to continue to hang on, continue to keep climbing and just focus on the next obstacle ahead. And while a husband may have benefited for many years from having a wife who was a good mother- it was never her JOB to fill that ROLE for him. It was just a bonus prize, nobody really plans it that way. But when she was swinging like Tarzan through the jungle of life and managing home, work, kids, bills, after school activities, PTA, extended families, and everything in between–it was just easier to tell her husband what she needed him to do than to expect him to know it and just do it.   However, every woman I have consulted all agree- and it may not be fair…but the biggest problem that occurs when a woman cuts the ropes and ends up with the possibilities of her own space in a spare bedroom-is that it doesn’t end there.

Usually, that time and room allows her to explore her own dreams or births the discovery of a passion that becomes so big she needs her own commercial space for her growing business. Almost overnight she needs her husband to KNOW what she needs and she doesn’t really feel like telling anyone what to do anymore. I have witnessed friends run their first marathons, while their husbands just missed the significance of it. They have started their own companies, gotten college degrees after the age of 40- created beautiful pottery, painted pictures that I had no idea they had the talent to do, even though I had seen their artwork for years in the form of child-like dinosaurs or whatever theme the school book fair was going with that year. But to see that talent on canvas revealing who THAT woman is inside, not through the eyes of her child or her position on the “decorating committee” Its kinda magical.

The truth about ropes and spare bed rooms is more simple than these two blogs that I combined. Fill that spare room with whatever possibility strikes your fancy, allow whatever you fill it with to grow outside the walls of that room, share it with the world, relish the spare time that you have for YOU at this point in life- don’t go looking for just anything to fill a void that you see as an empty space. “Create” something that is uniquely YOU within an empty space and if you find yourself hanging on by a thin rope- make sure it’s made of satin… If its not- cut yourself loose!

One last word of advice- I am also blessed to know the sweetest lady who safely sailed through the change in life and landed on the other side. She admitted that the storm brewed inside her home and in her marriage for a good six years. The more she worked in her garden, the more her husband stomped around the house waiting for his dinner. The longer she went between trips to the store, the more he mumbled under his breath about there being nothing to eat in the house. She said for a while their interactions consisted of her slamming a loaf of bread on the counter, tossing a jar of peanut butter beside it and then leaving him standing there in the kitchen after she slammed the door to her sons old bedroom which she had turned into a “reading room”

She laughed while recalling her passion for growing things, spending hours with her flowers, reading all about grafting roses and growing plants from small cuttings, or ordering uncommon seedlings. She said at one point she just knew her husband was the one walking all over her baby plants while he denied even knowing she had anything planted there. At one point she said she literally visualized herself choking him with the water hose after he crushed her baby plants by sitting the trash can right on top of them.  She said later, she was finally able to understand that her husband saw the transformation of the kids growing up and spending less time at home, or finally away at college in a completely different light than she did.

She recalled the day it all made perfect sense to her, it was during one pretty heated argument that she finally asked her husband this question.

“What exactly did YOU think I was going to do with my time once all the kids moved out, sit here and wait for you ring for me when a commercial break came on TV?”

His answer shocked her.

Her husband admitted that he envisioned the empty nest as a time when the house would be quieter, but more importantly, he figured that when they reached this point in their life, that his wife would simply be happy because she finally had more time to finish all the things that she use to complain about never having enough time to do.

Her husband honestly thought that the kids flying the coop would give her more time to do the same things she had always done!

In his mind, she wouldn’t stop cooking big meals, or stocking the house full of food, or washing all the laundry, or cleaning every corner of the house or making sure dinner was done each night by 5:30pm. The only major change that he expected once the kids grew up, was that his poor wife would finally have  MORE time to do it ALL in and then maybe have a few moments of extra time to relax in the chair beside him in front of the TV.

She told me that she laughed until she cried, while her husband missed the significance of it,  and just figured it was another inappropriate display of crazed hormonal emotions. Eventually, she stopped laughing long enough to tell him that he was NUTS if he thought that was the way the next 25 years of their life was going to be lived.

She discovered in one conversation the root of the problem. Her husband couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that the extra time, was time she finally had to invest in her OWN life. This poor man couldn’t understand how she could expect him to eat a sandwich for dinner, not find time to go to the store, and yet have a yard so filled with flowers that strangers were now stopping by and offering to pay to use her yard for everything from wedding pictures to prom pictures.

Imagine the shock most husbands really do face when their wife seems to have more time than ever before, and yet he sees her doing less and less of what she has always done before, especially things that he took for granted that she did for him.

This woman’s home is now filled with grandchildren, her yard is still gorgeous- although they have contemplated selling if the market improves. When she cooks a huge meal for the two of them, her husband now fusses about her doing so, or makes her promise to not cook the next two nights, because left overs suit him just fine these days. They share a love for auctions and antiques– and when he goes fishing or hunting,, she is up at the crack of dawn and cooks him a big breakfast and sends him out the door with his lunch cooler packed. He swears that she treats him like a king. I think it’s amazingly sweet.

And it proves my other point- if a man really wanted to breeze through the change, he could stop digging his heels in about all the things his wife expects him to do now. He would take on the duties that she never should have done alone in the first place-If a woman is trying to lighten her load, a smart man will grab whatever she is struggling with–because if he stands there and refuses, or acts like he is incapable of doing it on his own, and  she has to keep carrying it all–when menopause comes she wont just drop it- she will drop kick it everywhere in a fit of fury and refuse to clean a bit of it up– she will cut the rope and let whatever was at the end of the rope that was so heavy, simply fall where it lands.

All a man has to do is understand that his wife is NOT his mother and she wont always have little kids running around to MOTHER- and  as my sweet friend pointed out–once her husband gave up his own childish wants, she wasn’t opposed to meeting him in the middle about much of anything. She grew to value his opinion so much in the years since they re-learned the roles of “husband and wife” that now, if he were to tell her “No” to just about anything it would never enter her mind to not trust his instinct.

I think the transition would be much smoother if most women didn’t feel like they had to cut away so many ropes to feel free.  Its pretty simple really. If a woman needs help, give it. If she doesn’t ask for help, pay enough attention to her that you are aware when she needs it and then take the initiative to do what needs to be done…and maybe even take time to do a few things she hasn’t expected.

I am certain that the couples out there LOVING it up during their golden years are the ones who were creative enough to keep finding new and exciting ways to use the satin cords and the spare bed-rooms!

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Just the rant of a crazy woman, well barely crazy

My last long blog for Facebook this month. I tried to link it, but FB was acting up. Just some FYI for ladies out there-as well as anyone who has read my bitch post about this insane insomnia I have been suffering with, along with the resurfacing of my ADD that I totally felt had left me about the age of 24-the un-explainable itchy skin that drives me so nuts at odd times that I am sure I look like a nut clawing at my bra strap, neck and the back of my knees..not to mention the awful joint pain that got out of hand a few months ago and the “frozen” shoulder that it left me with (I still can’t use my right arm to put on a jacket, lift or raise over my head) the pain from my shoulder is so bad at night that it is what triggered this last bout of insomnia hell.Image

Well….when all that blood work was back and then shared with my regular doctor, I was ready to knock the Hades out of the “male” nurse who said “we think all of it is menopausal related”

Really…I get the hot flashes, night sweats, weight up and down, racing heart, adrenalin surge and the need to bust out like the Hulk or knock someones teeth down their throat or even flipping off the poor man who took the gas pump I was pulling up too and screaming at him the entire time I pumped my gas two pumps over…. “could Maybe” be associated with menopause, but my shoulder pain? My insanely itching skin? My inability to remember my kids names??

I disregarded it as another excuse of a bad doctor blaming menopause on something he doesn’t know the answer too and I had an orthopedic appointment set up for the week after Christmas.

But after an insane amount of hot flashes this week, no sleep and my come apart on the people at Sears (who I am still not done with) I decided to sit down and Google the other stuff…..

OMG. If Google says it, it must be true and right now I take Google over a freaken man doctor blaming menopause. I am in shock..I Cant count the sites where women describe the exact pain I am in with my shoulder and joints and the insomnia that follows it.

The med link said
“About 70 percent of those affected with frozen shoulder are women. These statistics suggest a correlation between frozen shoulder and a hormonal shift that occurs in the early or mid-stages of menopause. Joint pain is one of the most common symptoms of menopause. It is thought that more than half of all postmenopausal women experience varying degrees of joint pain. Estrogen helps prevent inflammation in the joints, so low levels of estrogen during menopause can lead to increased instances of inflammation, and therefore increased joint pain

I went on to read that in Japan women hardly if EVER suffer from the same issues as women in western countries while going through the change of life, such as the mood issues and hot flashes, but the frozen shoulder is so common there-that it is called “menopause shoulder” by translation because so many women have it during the change of life. It went on to say that “Japan’s cultural respect for older people makes the menopausal transition more comfortable for women; the menopausal woman, then, is moving into a place of honor and not treated the way they are normally treated in western cultures either.

Then the crazy allergic relations I developed to God only knows what all this year, from jalapeno to maybe certain imported shell-fish to nuts…well it seems that to is menopause…

Mayo clinic said “Hormones and the immune system are inextricably linked, so hormonal changes during menopause can lead to an increase in allergies among menopausal women. Many women experience increased sensitivity to allergies, while others may suddenly become allergic to something that never bothered them before.”
Really???

If that wasn’t enough, how about this one…Itchy, Crawly Skin!! I honestly almost stripped my shirt off at a red light in order to scratch what felt like my skin was crawling. It happens day and night, usually signals a bad night of hot flashes…and I guess it was related because the med link said…..”menopausal women experience the feeling of “creepy-crawlies” walking all over their skin, a burning sensation like an insect sting, or super-sensitivity in their hands, arms, legs, and feet. in menopausal women, tingling extremities is likely caused by the effect that low estrogen levels have on the central nervous system.”

I think the one I laughed the hardest at while crying over the other ones (honestly, I was weeping before laughing like a lunatic…) was this one…..

“Why Western Men should learn to fear menopause.”

The symptom….Women detesting their husbands!…LAUGHING so hard, and why does this make the menopause symptom list…because according to the doctor on the site, the very moment we can no longer have children, or the ovaries began to shut down, it’s just like my great-aunt said to me years ago… our mothering – and thus to a large degree even our wifely instincts are chemically turned off. If your husband treats you like your his mama, and your mama instincts are turning off as God planned it around the time your kids should be almost grown and not needing that mama bear care…but your husband still does….well, then the husband don’t stand a chance…

I laughed because it was listed as a symptom on NUMEROUS websites…one even explained it as “The estrogen levels have plummeted and as they fall, so does the oxytocin. Once they disappear, we’re no longer going to be ready to respond to anyone’s beck and call.

The doctor describes the menopause as the point when “the mommy brain is beginning to unplug. it is hormones developed in pregnancy such as oxytocin, which help us feel such passionate love for our offspring, equally it’s the lack
of hormones after the menopause that make us less fond of a partner who fails to pull his weight or expects his wife to mother him. It even blamed the MANS midlife and attraction to the younger woman as not so much her age as the fact that a 30-year-old is still in the midst of her “nurturing and child-bearing years” and WILL mother him where his post menopausal wife WONT.
I laughed even harder…..because it does make sense and because only a man would put him self in the position to “jump” out of one crazy train with a wife in menopause only to get hit by the 2nd one in a few years with another woman…you cant out run this crazy hell!

So I get to have a frozen shoulder, itchy crawly skin, no sleep, joint aches, hot flashes, night sweats, allergies that make my face and mouth swell up like a balloon, mood swings and ADD memory issues, loosing my cell phone while its attached to my ear, not to mention loosing my car now in parking lots more than I use to lose my car keys….hormones or not, if a man wants a mama and I am dealing with all this….that last symptom of “detesting your husband” will surface with the best of us.
If I can go from disappointment to tears to anger to rage to “THERE AINT nobody home” in less than 90 seconds, then NO woman is capable of the infant care of a spouse…I mean even I know that Menopause has been used as a mitigating factor in legal defense cases, resulting in a reduced sentence for the woman.
Makes that whole website about the Asian women having little issues due to her place and treatment of honor sound pretty good don’t it?
Seems like the Japanese could teach some american men about how to survive menopause don’t it?

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Obama’s smoke offering to the Nation.

smokingThere is something that has been on my mind since Christmas day. It was raining here in Ga, a good soaking cold rain, that made it feel a little more like Christmas since we had record high temperatures here all winter and the week of Christmas it was almost 70 degrees. Late that evening I realized that I had slowed down on some of my Coupon Mom shopping and we were dangerously close to running out of toilet paper. So I volunteered to be the one to drive around and try to find an open store on Christmas. I was pleasantly surprised to see that just about everything in our little town was closed up tight and Temple resembled a ghost town of sorts. It’s good to see that some still think celebrating the birth of our Lord is more important than a few bucks. I was already turning around and headed back to the house, when I realized the “Swifty One Stop” convenience store has its red neon light turned on. A part of me wanted to fuss for the poor people having to work on Christmas, the other part of me wanted to be thankful for the Christmas miracle of having a place to buy some much-needed TP for a family of six who had spent all day eating the rich foods of Christmas dinners like a never-ending buffet. So with mixed feelings I pulled in the deserted parking lot and parked right up in front of the door, it was then that through the window I saw the familiar face of a sweet lady wearing a santa hat  while working her Christmas shift. I had not seen her in years, or even thought much about her or the other few ladies I use to see every day, sometimes twice a day for too many years to count. My visits to the store always depended on how stressed out I was.

This rainy CHristmas night; I didn’t have an umbrella and I was not looking forward to getting soaking wet, so I jumped out of my car running toward the door. Once inside, the familiar smells of fresh brewed coffee, an old heating system and the lingering scent of fresh-baked bread from a subway shop next door assaulted my senses. I know I stood just inside the doorway like an idiot for a moment too long, but the thought occurred to me that I had not been inside this convenience store, or really any other quick stop store in five years!  You see,  five years ago I did something I never thought I would be able to do…I quit smoking!

Swifty was where I ran out at midnight to buy a pack of Virginia Slim’s when my pack was empty and wasnt ready for bed. Swifty was where I stopped in during the mornings and purchased a pack for the day and maybe poured a cup of coffee and spoke to the ladies working their shifts. Many late nights I would be engrossed in getting something done while the kids were asleep and chain-smoking all the while. If I ran out, a quick run to the Swifty was always the answer and many times I would run into one or two of the old-time local boys who worked at the PD doing night patrol and made a stop at the Swifty for gas and coffee too. I can’t count the times I bought a pack, opened them up, poured a cup of coffee and fired up that cigarette right there at the door to the store while catching up with them before heading back home.

I shook my head and came back from my walk down memory lane, picked up an overpriced cheap roll of toilet paper and went to the register. The lady working was one of the same ladies I use to see every day for more years than I can count, yet I couldn’t; for the life of me remember her name. She made a comment about how long it had been since I had been in the store, I pointed at the cigarettes still behind the counter and said, “Well, I don’t smoke anymore”  The problem is, my eyes almost bugged out when I saw the price under the pack of cigarettes I was pointing at. When I quit smoking in November 2007 the price for my brand was 4.05 cents. They had been 3.50 for awhile, so I had changed to a cheaper brand at 2.99 and hated them. When my brand hit the 4.00 mark that was my last pack. The receipt actually came from the Swifty store, I came home, placed a magnet over the receipt to hold it to my refrigerator and told myself that was the LAST pack I would ever buy. FOUR DOLLARS was robbery. That receipt stayed on my fridge for 4 years until the ink faded so badly you could barely see the price I had paid for that “last” pack.  So imagine my shock when the price tag on those same cigarettes on Christmas 2012 was almost 7 dollars!!

I left Thanking GOD that Christmas night in the rain driving home that I didn’t need to spend 7 dollars to smoke any longer, while wondering who in the hell in this economy could afford to smoke any longer? Even the cheap 2.99 brand that I had tried to switch to five years ago, was now a whopping 5 bucks a pack!  I came in the door telling my husband how glad he should be that I saved him all that money by kicking the habit.

Later than night a picture of Obama came on one of the news channels, he had a cigarette hanging out of his mouth, puffing away on the thing like his life depended on it for his oxygen supply. Being the half crazy person I am, the first thing I did was run grab my iPhone and google the cost of cigarettes in DC. The cheap brands start at 8.00 a pack!

So you mean my tax dollars are keeping that idiot in free cigarettes? You know he aint walking into a  store and saying ‘gimme a pack of Marlboro light 100s please” and I sure don’t see him handing a secret service officer a “20 dollar bill” out of his own wallet and sending him inside to buy them. I bet they just show up on the table in the oval office, like his coffee and donuts–only instead of the newspaper, he gets a carton of cigarettes with his coffee. You can check those prices at this site http://www.theawl.com/2011/06/what-a-pack-of-cigarettes-costs-state-by-state

Now if you really want to laugh at the idiot, Under his new OBAMA CARE if you are a smoker like him, and paying 7 bucks for a pack hits your wallet a little more than it does his, well get ready for this. IF YOU SMOKE…Obama care had a provision that would have allowed insurers in the small group market to charge smokers up to 50 percent more than nonsmoker for the same insurance. FIFTY PERCENT MORE!

Well, he got a little nervous over that one, so what is an hypocritical dictator to do??? Well he just tweaked the new law in Obama care to order someone to do something he doesn’t have the right to make them do, or make them pay out the azz if they don’t… Under the proposed regulation, employees who use tobacco can avoid paying those higher premiums but only if they participate in a program to quit smoking!  So you enter the program to waive the huge smokers penalty on your mandated insurance, and quit. (Better for your health, cheaper for his Obama plan to take care of you) Or you keep smoking and pay rates higher to buy a pack of cigarettes than a nickel bag of weed and then pay the insurance companies rates 50% higher than non smokers until your too broke to smoke. All the while, our president–umm I mean Dictator, well he gets to smoke for free.

Lets see, the job loss, horrible economy, stress to just live and eat now days is really a good environment to produce an atmosphere where millions of Americans are going to have to jump off nicotine. He knows how hard it is to quit, I wonder if this is why he is on the band wagon to take Americans guns away, he does not want a bunch of crazies going through a nicotine fit to have access to a gun!! LOL.

Now do you really think this man will be “On Obama Care” insurance plan for himself and family? Jim Jones was more real in his delusions than this man…at least he drank his own Kool-aid with the rest of the nuts that followed him over to Jonestown. Obama is going to make it up for you, force feed those who don’t drink it willingly, but baby..I promise, he aint drinking it.

Welcome to the new world order. Starting soon this law says that  insurers will no longer be allowed to refuse coverage to the sick. That sounds like such an amazing thing does it not? If someone is sick and they need insurance to help them pay…they have a right to get it. Now comes the bleeding liberal Obama part. If they are sick..they cant pay for it..so who is going to pay for it…well the cost of insuring the sick who had no insurance prior to getting sick will be paid out of the insurance fees from, healthy consumers, which is why the law requires everyone to buy insurance or pay a penalty. YOU WILL PAY FOR OTHERS CARE OR BE FINED.

If your single, you get to stay on Medicaid if you make 16,000 or under ( so all you college kids who are working your way through school doing good to make 10,000 a year..go get your Medicaid–I  will gladly pay that fee over the others making under 16,000 which is based on income from how many “baby daddy’s” they got or TANIF or AFDC checks and other govt grants to live for free. If you make more than that, you get to shop for subsidised rates. So keep yourself under the govt target level and someone else is gonna pay for you if your sick, pay to keep you covered and out of work and no need to go looking for work. And because the states are dragging their feet over setting up the exchanges as they are called for you to buy this insurance by the end of the year, the federal government will take over and have even more control than Obama care originally allowed the federal branch to have.

But before anyone rants over my post about the poor sick people without insurance, Obama care is going to flat-out kill them. NOT help them in any way. This is now a law, a law in which many of the details were not revealed UNTIL after his re-election in 2012. Now we know the dirty little secret of Obama care. Here it goes. The Employers have the right to stop offering insurance to any employee, that leaves the working class to the mercy of the exchanges controlled by the federal govt to insure you and your family. AND anyone who ends up having to purchase from the “exchange” or be fined each month helps bring about this next event, “The insurance lobby says that the law’s strict requirements will raise prices — for example, a limit on fees for the old will drive up fees for the young. How expensive will insurance become?” This is the question asked on the Year Long Road to Obama care.  But..what if the young, like my two kids in their 20s decide its cheaper to pay the penalty and be uninsured, will that not raise prices for every one else?

The worst to be hurt by Obama Care are the really old and the truly poor and they were the ones the Obama fiasco said were  the patients the law is supposed to benefit. Those with incomes below 100 percent of the poverty line will not qualify for subsidies on the exchanges. If states do not expand Medicaid, 11.5 million poor adults will be left without insurance.–while our president who is the brain child behind Obama Care continues to smoke cigarettes that cost 8 bucks a pack, his cigarettes a day are more than most poor folks medication cost them for the month.

Who has to worry about body guards and secret service agents? He causes more danger to his own life every time he fires one cancer stick  up…Smoke away..Maybe Obama care will go up in smoke with his lungs. Cant you see him in a few years out doing the talk show celebrity circuit bragging about his health care reform while pulling an oxygen tank behind him and talking into the microphone while pressing on the electric voice box in his throat from a trach?

Really Man, if you’re gonna force the free nation back on to a plantation that Uncle Sam controls,  do you really have to smoke the tobacco your making us pay for in front of us? Well, I guess we should be glad he hasn’t made us start back to picking the tobacco….YET.

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Midlife Crisis-A lie from the pit of hell?

My morning outlook has changed drastically over the course of this year. This blog is about the personal journey that got me here. Example: we were late again this morning Cason (my 16-year-old) has had the flu all week and still feels awful but attempted to make it through school today. He wasn’t in the best mood this morning with reason. Then Logan (my 13-year-old) wasn’t looking forward to the Social Studies bench mark test he has to take today and dragged his feet while getting ready, trying to put off the school day as long as he could. Justen (the oldest who recently moved back home for a few months while in college) forgot to take his dog out and the beast was banging and knocking against the door to his bedroom hard enough to make me think someone was beating my door down; not to mention my husband can’t seem to understand that when I “dropped my basket” a month ago, I didn’t put all his personal responsibilities back inside my basket to carry for him. Top that off with the strange occurence that after 43 years of life, I have suddenly developed a shell-fish allergy and the swelling inside my mouth has yet to go back down to normal after eating ONE piece of shrimp 36 hours ago..

The question of the day is this. How in the world did I practically whistle through my morning, or feel so at peace inside when this type of chaos would have normally started my day off on the wrong foot?

Perhaps “dropping my basket” has something to do with it, I am not really sure. All I know is that at some point during this crazy year, I learned how to accept each moment as it comes without trying to change the moment into something other than what it was-good or bad; I discovered how to let that moment be just what it was—even if that “moment” literally sucked.

This is nothing short of a miracle for me because I am the type of person who will bend over backwards, while making myself crazy trying to fix something or make things better for others. It’s the female nature I guess, or the result of 25 years building a career out of being a housewife and mother, tending to those I love and striving to create a home life that is stable, secure and welcoming. I believed the words “children are a product of their environment” so I made it my goal to create an environment that would allow those within it to flourish.

Somehow, over the course of this crazy year, I ended up at a stage in life that I didn’t know existed. I have never heard it mentioned before the way I had overheard older ladies comment on “hot flashes or night sweats” It wasn’t passed down to me by a family member from the older generation as a pearl of wisdom for later in my life.  Perhaps it’s a place not many people find.

I somehow stumbled upon a mindset that is filled with an inner peace that allows me to leave a bad moment alone, without trying to change it or make it better. I “get” the significance of the old saying “it is what it is and it is what’s its going to be.”   I somehow let go of my need to transform a bad moment or a bad day into something it just wasn’t. The amazing thing is that with this knowledge came the ability to truly soak in the beauty of a good moment. I can’t count the sunsets I have paid attention to this year, or the times I have stopped whatever I was doing to really appreciate a gorgeous full moon and a clear night sky. I have experienced the laughter and joy over things so simple and fleeting when those same moments use to pass me by without notice. I somehow found this point in life where it’s truly acceptable to take each moment as it comes and being truthful about what is occurring in that moment– and the end result is liberating.

It’s therapeutic because one single moment does not affect the other moments to come in my day. A bad morning does not make a bad day. An unexpected problem does not determine my mood and someone else’s problems and issues do not have the free rein to create turmoil in my life. If I could bottle the recipe or the 5 step program in order for others to obtain this new outlook of mine, I truly believe I could write a self-help book and market it to the masses. I may begin to work on that and instead of calling it “40 is the new 30” I am going to name the book “Crazy is the new Sane”

I used to worry over everything and fear set the tone of my day-Anyone who has ever been a worrier, you know the drill– the way a thought takes hold and then you ponder it until you make yourself a nervous wreck. Those of us who worry; also know that fear is the leading force behind it. I worried over my kids, because I was afraid for them. (This list is too long to name, I feared everything from watching them drive out of the driveway at 16 and possibly having a wreck, to my daughter hopping on plane after plane in her travels abroad. Hell; I even worried they would choke to death playing with a jump rope when they were little, so I took it from them. If it could happen—regardless of the odds of it actually occurring, then I worried about it.)  I worried over my marriage because I was afraid of everything from the national divorce rate to financial security for myself should the need to divorce ever come to pass. I worried over my health because I was afraid of what would happen to my family and all the people I do things for every day, should I not be able to handle everything for them. I worried over the state of our Nation because I truly feared the direction it is headed in.

Then suddenly(or perhaps more subtlety than I realize) after a year of issues that ranged from immense, senseless, trivial and devastating-I no longer had the ability to categorize these events as big or small because by this point even the small snowball was a part of the larger avalanche and equally stressful . Then maybe out of a need to back up and regroup or learn how to cope with stress, I discovered that regardless of how strong you are, or how many people you love and care for—there does come a “moment” in time where self-preservation kicks in. I am thankful I didn’t miss that moment because it changed my life.

I found the ability to break life down to a single moment. That one space in time I was guaranteed to be in. If I needed to say something in that moment-I said it. If I needed to be quiet in that moment, I was quiet. If someone else was bringing havoc into my moment, I didn’t take their garbage into my next moment. If we wake up late and have a chaotic morning, I am able to let it be what it is and roll on through it and leave it in the past once it’s passed.  Notice all the uses of the word “I” and “My”. That is because each moment belongs personally to me and to you. It’s up to us who we decide to share that moment with. We make that choice thousands of times in a day, without even paying attention to it. We may choose a moment of alone time with God; a moment spent hugging a child who needs comforting, a moment helping others, a moment arguing with someone or a moment completely alone. Other people DO NOT own your moments. If you feel someone else or life events are stealing your time; they didn’t hijack it; YOU GAVE IT TO THEM! It’s easy to believe that we choose the good moments in our life, that we are somehow responsible for them occurring, while the bad moments in our life are always someone or something else’s fault. How many times have you heard or even heard yourself utter the phrase “I was having a good day until……” (Fill in the blank with the excuse of who or what ruined your day.)

I discovered I could be mad as hell-disappointed as hell-dumfounded as hell—and walk out of that moment into the next one and find something to be truly appreciative of. I also found that most of the things that made me mad, disappointed or confused me were due to other people mismanaging their own moments and refusing to take responsibility for their own actions or problems.

This led me to a break through moment. One day I was struck with the analogy that human beings may have the ability to shed their skins as they grow, in truth I think we are blessed if we can say we have shed our skin several times during our life. It means we grew. The process isn’t pretty, the peeling outer layer has to come off to reveal the new improved you underneath. The process is painful, it hurts to let go and come out from under an armor you have covered yourself with for many years. But the end result is magnificent.  Imagine how uncomfortable and painful it is for the “snakes” in the world that are still wearing the same skin they did as a child and trying to function as adults in society. Those are the immature joy stealers who refuse to grow and shed their skin.

Living in the moment opens you up to truth.

Have I had a good year?

I can’t answer that. I had some of the best moments of my life this year, and some of the most stressful—the question I can answer is that I was present for the moments in my life this year. I felt each one of them deeply, I participated in them, I owned mistakes I made in them and saw clearly how I had allowed the needs of others to consume too many of my moments instead of simply directing them next door and into their “own moment”

Fear and the worry over what I feared seemed to disappear, because if your “present” in your moment-you kind of see yourself wasting that moment worrying over something that may not even occur in the next moment. Simple but true.

This Christmas, I feel like the kid from the movie Home Alone when he runs around the house yelling “I’m not afraid anymore!!!” If that was what this roller coaster year was about for me;  to finally be set free of worry and fear-to find this place in life where it’s not selfish to OWN my OWN moment, then I’m proof good lessons come from the craziest of times. Now- I fully expect my new outlook on life to be called a midlife crisis; but when you see me post a status from Nevada, and I am not there to gamble but to experience the Burning Man event-don’t judge. (LMBO) because in truth, my status update may simply come from the creative writing class I finally sign up for—the beauty of it is simply I have the freedom and the ability to appreciate the moments that come my way.  I realize that Behavioral Scientist want us to believe that  women are thrust into midlife crisis because they reach a certain age and discover that they finally have the opportunity to do all the things in life they have put off doing while caring for their family. I want to end this blog by saying strongly that I DISAGREE”

It’s not a midlife crisis, it’s shedding our skin. Perhaps the skin I had been wearing over the past 20 years needed to be covered with a thick layer of worry and fear-because the skin I wore before that one from the age of 13 to 20 something, was extremely thin and took offense to everything and didn’t have an ounce of worry or fear woven into the hide, trust me when I say that I feared nothing way back then and took risk so insane that I would cringe if my kids were to ever do the same.

Each skin is needed for a season. I have decided that I won’t buy into the lie that a little bit of shedding and peeling in order to reveal the birth of something new underneath is a “crisis” and meant to be managed. It’s a part of life and meant to be accomplished. We all think that what makes us different from the animals is our ability to reason. Humans are idiots. We “reason” ourselves right into corners we can’t get out of and justify standing there doing nothing, or we take ourselves off to people with medical degrees who are supposed to be better at “reasoning” than we are, and they hand out prozac or xanex to help you ignore the fact you are even stuck in a corner.

Animals are smarter than that. While some humans think our skin stretches to accommodate our growth, others fear that if they keep growing, they will outgrow their own skin, or that it will only stretch so far until it snaps. I think most people by the age of 40 have decided that it is easier to just stop growing  than risk the full-blown, mind snapping come apart that will occur if we out grow our skin, while society screams “you have gone crazy” This may be true to a point, but I am of the belief that we can also accept the possibility that perhaps we have the ability to shed our skin as we grow. My lesson for the year is simply this. Dont confuse the growing pains of shedding your skin as the excuse you have been waiting for to stop growing and settle for less than life has to teach you.

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Dropping your basket…Southern Style

This is a long post-Its actually one of my blogs..but I feel all my lady friends need to read it–I am all for the way women are able to share those embarrassing or traumatic moments that only happen to US–So if any of you are running on empty or stressed to the max or being pulled a hundred different ways–read and enjoy a laugh at my expense.

To a southerner there are two terms most women know the definitions of that others around the world may not. One is called a “come apart”..and the other is being to the point where you are about to “drop your basket.”

The difference between a “come apart” and “dropping your basket” is fairly simple.
A come apart is a good ole fashioned hissy fit- the only thing that gets hurt is maybe someones feelings- while YOU on the other hand, feel a lot better after having one. You may throw a few things for effect-or scream like a lunatic or even threaten those on the receiving end with bodily harm…but a come apart is just that, a coming completely apart on someone else, where you appear to be crazy, but are enjoying the stress relief your hissy fit is providing you with–you may seem to have lost your mind, but as long as you know your perfectly sane…its all good.

“Dropping your basket” on the other hand is an old southern term for going Bat- sh%t crazy–as in “out of your mind” insane with or without a particular someone on the receiving end. A come apart can happen on the spur of the moment, dropping your basket is something you feel yourself literally TRYING to hold on to. That is until….you drop it.

I dropped my basket this week. I wont go into all the particulars, but lets just say between having my ADD issues spring up like they haven’t since I was in my early 20’s-and getting behind on EVERYTHING, as well as forgetting and loosing everything in sight, and the election results (haha) it was only a matter of time before I lost my mind for a minute as well.

I tried for quite awhile to hold on to it, but all control escaped me after getting to the check out line in the store the other day, completely forgetting my pin number to my debit card, pushing password after password on the key pad, until I locked myself out of my bank account, then being unable to find my car keys anywhere in my disaster of a messy purse, slinging my purse all over the parking lot in an attempt to find the keys which were still in the ignition where I had left them, convincing myself that my car wasn’t stolen because only a crazy person would have all the insane obama hating magnets on their car. I figured a crook thought the keys in the ignition had to be a trap. After getting into my car, I was distracted by the hot air blowing out my vents while it was set to cold, almost hit a car pulling into parking lot, flipping off the person who was blowing their horn and yelling at me–digging in my purse for nicotine replacement mints, even though I have not smoked in almost 6 years..then realizing I don’t have my wallet-turning around to go find wallet and sun glasses still in the parking lot where I slung the contents of my purse. Driving home and getting on the computer only to forget my online banking ID as well–getting someone on the phone at the bank who can’t help me, because well..I cant freaken remember any of my SH%T for them to “identify” its me with. Deciding to call it a day and hang on to my basket with all my might and get a good nights sleep…..

Only to wake up in a cold sweat at one am, knowing there was something I had forgotten to do…(ya think?) Being half asleep on ambien while digging through the bills to see what I may have forgotten to pay, or failed to mail or even open…that turned into making online payments at one am on a few of those bills–only to get up the next morning and remember my online banking password, that bit of happiness soon faded when I signed on and discovered that during my 1 am. bill paying marathon, I paid the same bill TWICE. The chaos continued on, between weeks of hubby using debit card and failing to tell me, kids sending me reminder text for things they needed done, the 16-year-old nagging every five minutes to drive somewhere, ballgames all over east Cobb, and my sanity slowly slipping…so it was no surprise that day brought with it at least 20 things I had forgotten to do, playing hide and seek with everything that ended up in my hands and then sat down somewhere I couldn’t recall, a full-blown screaming fit with the person behind me at Martins who blew their horn at me, pulling forward and almost hitting the little old lady who was pushing bread crates to the Colonial bread truck and had the misfortune of walking in front of my car. She had no way of knowing that the middle-aged lady driving the SUV was holding on to her basket with only one hand at that moment. Bless her..she has no idea that she had a guardian angel keep her from being squashed under my wheels as I gunned the gas pedal in the drive through after screaming and looking backwards and waving my stun gun out the window at the hick who had blown the horn at me for no reason.

So at about 4pm that day after a crap load of more stress I couldn’t process–I didn’t just drop my basket–I threw the SOB as hard as I could and as far away from me as I could.

My crazy self ends up pulled over, trying to decide if I want to stop a police officer and ask him to take me to jail where I can have a cot, some sleep, no cell phone or way to be reached, no ability to take care of anything for anyone and forego my one phone call so that no one knows where I am– Instead, I end up sitting there with a pen and a Walmart receipt because it was the only paper I could find anywhere in my purse or car…and I start to write down what all I do each day, who I do it for, and what is my “job” to take care of from day-to-day.

I would use the word ENLIGHTENMENT here, but it doesn’t suffice. After I had it all written down, scribbled long ways and sideways, front, back and across a fairly long Walmart receipt, I then circled the things that were stressing me the hell out. Amazingly, nothing I do each day in being a parent gave me any issues. Nothing I do in regards to being a wife, mother, housewife or friend stressed me out. Nothing I do for those in my extended family that I would die for caused me any grief. But there were a hell of a lot of “duties” I had somehow taken on that were above and beyond my job to do.

Example:

When I ask my husband why he didn’t make a sandwich and he tells me that it was because I didn’t TELL him there was HAM in the refrigerator…that is NOT my job. A grown man can go look and see for himself if the ham someone else bought for him is indeed there. Its my job to go grocery shop–but not to be responsible for someone not fixing themselves something because I didn’t tell them what there was to eat. Its my job to parent my kids, to check them out when they are sick, write an excuse when they go back to school. But it is not my “job” to bring Cason a drink to school because he is thirsty or check him out because he is tired from playing video games late or has a sub he doesn’t like. Its my job to clean my house, but not to spend an hour hunting something a child forgot to bring up to be washed or lost and needs ASAP. If one of the men in this house need new underwear-Hey..it might be my responsibility to pick some up while in Walmart–but inspecting each pair to figure out who needs new ones, well that isn’t my job. Its part of their personal responsibly to let me know. Everything I circled that had me stressed to the max was something I had somehow taken on that was another persons PERSONAL responsibility to themselves. The other things I circled were things I had NO control over-issues I cant change, things someone has to do for themselves or want to do for themselves. I had no idea how much I kept up with, reminded people of, took care of and took the blame for that are NOT my job to do.

I couldn’t believe all the BS that I had been holding inside that freaken basket–a basket that I had been trying so hard not to drop–Then I realized that it was an early Christmas miracle that not only did I drop it..but praise GOD..I DROP KICKED the stupid thing like a full blown maniac–Because everything that wasn’t mine, which somehow ended up in my basket outweighed my ability to utilize the coping mechanisms I have mastered over the years to accomplish anything regarding the things in life I LOVE to do!
My basket had become full of the responsibility of things we cant change, things we cant control and things that are other people’s personal responsibility to do for themselves. Carrying all those jobs take the pleasure and joy away from the things we are SUPPOSE to do. For instance, if a teacher’s job is to teach the children, but gets so weighed down with grade level meetings, team leadership, leadership teams, data collection, helping a failing school by initiating or participating in program after program, taking on duties of others…well…she doesn’t get to enjoy or do well the ONE job she is supposed to be doing and that is TEACH. She gets stressed and decides that maybe teaching isn’t for her.

It’s easy for a woman and a mother to take on everything-its hard for us to decipher what is within our power to do or change and what is simply allowing our efforts to enable someone else so that they do not have to utilize their own power. My Walmart receipt and the list written all over it while I sat in my car with a crazed deer in the headlight expression, brought everything back into focus. I ended up picking my basket back up, I carefully put back inside it all the things I wished to keep–and felt no remorse for the items I left on the ground. It’s now a whole lot lighter. A word of wisdom for any of you ladies dealing with too much day-to-day stress, drama or worries; I guess you could calmly sit your basket down and go through it as if you were spring cleaning–but half our problem is thinking we “have it all under control” until we don’t. I have decided that is what the “come aparts” are for..they are basket cleanings when it gets to heavy…Without the come aparts..I promise your going to drop the thing and either make one heck of a mess or beg a cop for a ride to the jail house for a mini vacation on the tax payers dime. 🙂

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The Death of America or the call to Revival?

I watched the election results come in on November 6, 2012 in stunned disbelief, much like I watched the airplanes crash into the World Trade Center and the Pentagon on 9/11.  I felt the same sense of loss and I honestly couldn’t comprehend it. How could my heart carry such a heavy weight over the outcome of a presidential election? How could I sit there and feel so sick to my stomach over an election with a four year term limit set in place by our founding fathers for our protection?  I truly felt like the lowest person in the world last night as I beat myself up for even silently and mentally comparing my disgust, despair, fear and anger as I watched Obama win a 2nd term with the emotions I felt years ago on 9/11. I wondered what in the world was wrong with me that I could associate my stomach turning as Obama gave his acceptance speech with watching Americans die trapped inside the tallest buildings in New York while a plane used as a weapon by Al-Qaeda was planted in the side of the Twin Towers, as the planes fuel seared and weakened something as strong as the time-tested,old-fashioned American Steel that held the buildings up.

I heard the news commentators on each channel blame the women in America for the turn out in support of Obama on election day, claiming it as a show of support for their right to their own bodies. I saw all the red on the map of this country and the dots of blue in heavy hitting states such as California, Ohio, and Florida the entire time thinking to myself that America didn’t elect this man, selfish women in certain states re-elected this man. I listened as one of those women gave shouts of victory that her right to an abortion was protected. At once, all my confusion and all my agony over the gut wrenching despair in my heart all night long made perfect sense. At five am this morning, the only thought I could hear in my mind were these words

“A VOICE WAS HEARD IN RAMAH, WEEPING AND GREAT MOURNING, RACHEL WEEPING FOR HER CHILDREN; AND SHE REFUSED TO BE COMFORTED, BECAUSE THEY WERE NO MORE.”

I could not even remember where in the Bible I had read these words, but I looked it up, and soon found Matthew 2:18 speaking to me as never before. The guilt I had over comparing my feelings to 9/11 fled. I was morning death just as I mourned for the people trapped in those buildings unable to escape.  On 9/11 the symbol of freedom and liberty etched into our minds, we cried as the smoke rose high in the air from the collapse of the buildings, while a split screen showed the statue of liberty not far away as her blessed homeland was under attack on home soil. We remembered and took pride for a moment in the statue of a woman holding a torch to guide those safely into the harbor who were ready to be re-born in a country where they were free to worship God, and reside in a land where our motto was simply life, liberty and justice for all.

The statue of liberty is a woman because the female gender represented the basic nature of life. While God created man first and then woman, all men have come from a woman since then; she represents the continuation of LIFE.

The statue represented the liberty a mother gives to her child as she teaches that baby to walk and then steps back as he takes off alone. There is nothing you do today that you were born being able to do for yourself. We all came into the world tiny, helpless and screaming in fear as we were snatched from the warm, safe harbor of our mother’s womb;  but at your mother’s breast you were fed, at her knee you were taught, in her arms you were consoled—a good mother gifted her children with the skills to be independent and free. Unknowing to most, a woman gave you the mysterious sense of a right to LIBERTY.

Finally, it was a female in your life who first showed you any justice. If you think back to the days of childhood, the safest place in the world was the safety of your mother’s arms, or the arms of a female who took on that role for you. When you think of her arms, you recall the welcoming feeling of coming home, the protection of a lioness if someone threatened her cub, and knowing you had at least one person who would stand with you and defend you while teaching the concept of right and wrong-a person who measured out justice fairly each day in her home.  A female represented all that was stable and secure, with an ability to love deeply and fiercely, while also symbolically teaching us to inherently know that we deserved LIFE, LIBERTY and JUSTICE and so did others who were not fortunate enough to have been born into the arms of a country that protected it.

I watched the polls come in, heard the cry of victory from the American women who celebrated their success in re-electing a leader who DID NOT expect her to protect her young as a lioness protects her cubs, but elected a leader who promised to protect her right to kill that child should she decide she didn’t want it. The women in America today who call themselves anything from liberal, feminist, to average undecided voters who were just protecting their rights to their own bodies celebrated the victory and their new-found power. Their unprecedented vote of almost 60% was based on abortion, contraceptives and health-care their voice gave Obama the name on the front page of the New York Times this morning. The caption reads BAM. THE LADIES MAN: with the picture of females in a crowd almost swooning as he gave his acceptance speech.

While watching 9/11 I cried as our country was attacked on home soil by our own planes that were turned and used against us. Last night I cried as our country was attacked by our own citizens, the mothers of our nation whom I always thought would protect us, were used against us when over half of the female voters turned on her own children and the children of others and those of generations to come in order to fulfill selfish desires.

On 9/11 I sat in shock as the unthinkable occurred and our liberty was rocked as never before, by a group of terrorist who sought to force their Islamic ideals on Americans with a selfish desire to justify the death of those killed by claiming it was pleasing to their GOD and in doing so, they succeeded in changing the way we live forever.  When the smoke cleared on 9/11: gone was our idyllic existence. We feel the effects everywhere, from security measures as we board a plane to the Patriot act limiting our freedoms; we watched helplessly as our way of life was forever changed.  Last night I sat in shock as the unthinkable occurred and the liberty of the rest of this country was decided by those seeking to force their self-centered, egotistical desires to justify the death of the innocent lives they wish to take in the name of a “basic right” to their own bodies. Gone was my idyllic existence where I truly believed that no matter what happened in the world as a whole, that the good mothers outweighed the bad, that a woman would always rise up and protect others over protecting herself when push came to shove and not just because it was expected of us, but somehow a part of WHO a woman is.

Last night I watched helplessly as the choice over a woman’s right to think only of herself changed the way the rest of the nation will live forever.

On 9/11 I cried for justice-for retribution to be dealt out swiftly to those who were responsible for the gut-wrenching terror of those jumping from the tallest floors of the twin towers while the nation watched on the news in stunned disbelief from the safety of their home or from the streets below ground zero in New York. The desire for justice ate at me back then as I watched those trying to rescue the ones helpless inside the blazing building be killed along with the rest, their bodies trapped in the heap of rubble when the towers fell.  I felt the same need for justice when the aftermath hit, and the first responders who survived the ordeal, became sick with cancers and health issues from the very air they breathed while attempting to help.

I found myself crying for that same justice last night, for a reckoning to come to those women responsible for the death of our children, for those innocent babies trapped inside the womb of a woman who wants the right to abort the child, more than she wishes to give it life; while those struggling with infertility issues cry tears into their pillow each night with the need to love a child. I thought of the broken lives left years after the act of abortion, the bodies of the innocent in the rubble and the hatred and attacks directed at the “first responders” who attempt to hold true to their faith and belief in God within a country that was supposed to protect that basic right. Our country was sacrificed to a socialist leader by the very women who don’t really want to protect their rights to abortion, they secured that right years ago. They now want that government and the Godly people within this country to now to pay for their right to kill through government health insurance and tax dollars. I cried for the innocent young women, teen moms and low-income families who believe the lie that abortion is the only way and the easiest way; their scars will be jagged and deep-and regardless of the lies women tell each other, the scars–they never completely heal.

The statue of Liberty still represents the female image it was carved into. The image of a female holding a torch that still stands for the motto: LIFE, LIBERTY AND JUSTICE—only now, the image of a woman stands for the right to take that LIFE without question or repercussion, the LIBERTY or freedom to choose which created soul within your womb you decide to keep and which color of that child’s skin makes his life of more value than another; as well as the JUSTICE or at least feeling justified to vote in leaders who pay for your mistakes, by way of planned parenthood, Obama-care,and the required distribution of birth control to young girls through their school or church.

I felt the same emotions coursing through me last night because it WAS the same emotion I was feeling: bereavement.  On 9/11 I mourned the death of our innocence as we were deceived by the very ones our country gives safe harbor too-immigrants from another country who were here on Visa, being protected in our country while we paid to educate them on how to fly a plane. They took what we gave and attempted to use it to destroy our way of life. On 11/6/2012 I mourned the death of our country and the ultimate betrayal that the United States of America and those living within this country were handed over to the enemy by the very ones believed to protect us above all else; those with the power to give birth to us; those that in a few years some child they decide to keep with call Mother. They voted in a leader based on his agreement to respect, protect, and pay for the right of a woman to not give birth to a child conceived inside her.

Melodramatic? I don’t think so.

Is it racist propaganda because of the color of Obama’s skin? Not in the least.

The majority of all Planned Parenthood clinics are located in low-income, minority neighborhoods. The locations are so disproportionately located within these areas that it is estimated that a black baby is 3 to 4 times more likely to be aborted than a white baby. Since 1973 and the onslaught of these government-funded Planned Parenthood clinics, the black population has been reduced by at least 25%, possibly higher.  One commentator stated a while back that every 3 days more African-Americans are killed by abortion than were ever killed by the KKK or other hate groups. 80% of all the Planned Parenthood clinics are located in minority neighborhoods. Only 13% of American women are black, but those mothers make up almost 40% of the abortion rate. This is not a new argument. Follow this link if you have time, the mother of birth control in a rare interview in the 1950’s. She uses the word Birth Control which at that time was abortion, the back door clinics that she helped to promote with her skills as a nurse and her reasons for doing so-from her blaming of the Church, Christianity, her views back then on homosexuals and being born as such. It’s educational if nothing else. She even gets down to people having a problem using their tax dollars to pay for the birth control or abortions and why the government should have to pay for such, as well as described her views on how the government should dictate to the church how they should feel on the subject. Watch to the end-listen to her views on infidelity, divorce, the greatest sin being the birth of a child a mother does not want, and her acceptance of divorce. The year was 1957-the views of this woman in 2012 are not only accepted, but fulfilled in ways she could have never imagined. A female– a mother– a woman scorned by the media and most of the world only 50 years ago is now the Mother of the movement which put in office a president who protected her views in the year 2012.

http://www.hrc.utexas.edu/multimedia/video/2008/wallace/sanger_margaret.html

If aborting the number of black babies in America was not enough, check out this link regarding planned parenthood in Africa where they plan to up abortion services in that country by 82%.

http://www.lifesitenews.com/news/african-genocide-planned-parenthood-to-ramp-up-african-abortion-services-by

 

We live in a country where genocide is accepted; taxpayers and churches are forced by the government to cover the cost of it; the mothers fail to protect their children and fathers fail to stand up and be the leaders they are required to be. The new America we have entered into has a new definition of Life, Liberty and Justice. For those of us who disagree; our hope is to hang on to our values. To pray and to continue to stand for what is truth in the shadow of the lies. Mothers raise your children in the way they should go, and when they are old they will not depart from it. The other 40% of women voters who cast their votes yesterday for what was best for this country—our power is within our homes, with our children and our families, as well as communities. Shine your light and hold your torch that leads the way and is a beacon for the blind, lost, and deceived. Be the unfailing statue of Liberty within the lives of those around you. Don’t think evil conquers good or that wrong always wins.  Four years from now, regardless of the state this country is in—the blood of Rachel’s children will not be on your hands. When the verse of Isaiah 59:3 is read—you will know your heart is clean. The word was spoken years ago

“For your hands are defiled with blood and your fingers with iniquity; Your lips have spoken falsehood, Your tongue mutters wickedness…”

What we are experiencing is not new to God; it’s heartbreaking I am sure, but not a surprise or unforeseen. Remember the words of Isaiah 1:21 “See how the faithful city has become a harlot! She once was full of justice; righteousness used to dwell in her–but now murderers.”

But remember God used the hardest and most evil of times to draw his people to him in ways that were miraculous. Those who waited and stood firm in his ways witnessed things that the mind can’t explain and experienced God in a personal way as never before. We who know better need to remember verses such as Psalm 118:8 “It is better to trust and take refuge in the Lord than to put confidence in man.”

Consider this next four years a call to revival for those of us heartbroken over the state of our country. Four years to draw closer to the leader we follow who is the ruler of the entire world-The Lord Jesus Christ.

I can be sarcastic, cutting and even shocking with my words—but the only peace that comes from disappointment and despair is found in words full of love, peace and promise. It’s the balm of Gilead people—lets apply it to heal our wounds instead of licking them.

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Democrats Gone Wild!

I made it almost 20 hours after the first presidential debate to write this blog. I figured at this point anything that needed to be said would have been said between all the other bloggers, the facebook post, every newspaper in the nation having the debate as their front page news; not to mention all the media and television coverage which spent all day dissecting each statement while reporting on the views of each side. However; I was wrong. Not one station or blogger or newspaper that I can find has even mentioned the part of the debate last night that I find the most disturbing. I will get to that in a minute though. First I need to share what I found the most humorous. You know those crazy infomercials that show all the college girls raising their shirts up to give the camera a free show? We have this young lady who lives in my state who is now suing the producers of girls gone wild for using her ta’tas in their video. First of all she was asked to flash the camera…she did. She was on spring break in Fla. and obviously unsupervised while being only 14 at the time. Her “flash moment” ended up in the videos and on the cover-She is in her 20’s now and suing the producers for as much money as she can get. I hope she wins, but in GA there are no laws in place regarding a 14-year-old girls right to consent to being videotaped, and then distributed for commercial purposes. Its wrong, anyone with a half a brain knows it wrong….but well, the law isn’t clear on it.

Crazy as it sounds,  all I could think about as I watched this news story was how much it reminded me of the democratic party and the way they take advantage of the foolish for private gain.  First of all let me say the exploiting of a 14-year-old girl is dead wrong and is not what I found humorous but it’s also wrong to exploit the poor, the needy, the elderly and the minorities–yet the democratic party uses such tactics and there are no laws against it. Your only protection is COMMON SENSE.

The girl was asked to raise her shirt, being young and dumb she did it-never dreaming how badly she would be exploited, harassed or forced to live under the shadow of that mistake. The Democratic party asks those down trodden if they need help; kind of like those sweet folks at Acorn who filled out the tax returns for the poor; only to abuse and hold down the ones naive enough to accept the offer of government help.(they were going to allow a person pretending to be a pimp use his prostitution business as a tax write off remember?)

I had this image in my mind of Nancy Pelosi flashing her breast at Harry Reed while Obama put in his order for the video version of Democrats Gone Wild, to watch later with Bill Clinton while having a few beers and “reminiscing” in the oval office about a young intern and the need to clean a dress…..

The Democratic Party has gone wild.  They are capable of anything but admitting the truth. I actually laughed so hard today that I almost choked to death when I heard a group of minority democrats explain their take on the Debate. They said Obama must have a plan. He was acting that way on purpose because he was up to something big that we all don’t know about yet. These folks went on to say that absolutely nothing about the debate last night even mattered. All that mattered was the last debate, because “people” only remember the last thing they hear anyway. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

The Democratic Party use to be for the working man. If you were a blue-collar worker who lived pay check to pay check and fed your family while being too proud to take a handout then you might have been a democrat. If you were UNION proud and fought the battle to have fair and humane treatment inside your factory or while doing your trade–then you might have been a democrat. If you were a man or woman who had been held down or kept out of a job based on race or gender—then you might have been a democrat. If you loved your country, took pride in your right and ability to take care of yourself and the freedom to grab the American dream–then you might have been a democrat. For most of us, the word DEMOCRAT meant we worked for a living and wanted people representing us that understood how hard we worked and worked for us to keep the government out of our pocket and to protect what we had worked hard for.

Fast forward….In today’s world of politics it looks more like this.  If you lie and cheat on your spouse, (Clinton) you might be a democrat. If you have no problem with the use of abortion as birth control or handing out the morning after pill at school to 13-year-old girls, then you might be a democrat. If you believe that prayer in school is wrong in America, but consider it justified for Muslims to be offended on behalf of their god and storm a US Embassy in Libya and murder innocent people over their religion–then you just might be a democrat. If you’re fine with working hard every day and paying a high tax rate from your pay check  to feed, house and care for those who will not work then chances are you’re a democrat.

If your one of those people who think BIG government is needed and it’s the job of that government to care for you and every other American citizen, if you think the government  knows more than you do, can make better choices for you regarding your health, marriage, family and freedoms. or have decided it’s alright that those in office do not have to follow the same rules as you do, because they are “elected” and therefore exempt to the laws of our country or paying their share of  taxes, or if you believe it’s the governments job to provide you with necessities such as food and housing….then you’re NOT a Democrat–YOUR one of those Democrats Gone Wild, better known by Obama’nites as FORWARD thinkers–I will just go ahead and throw the real word out there…It’s called a SOCIALIST!

 

Now, this brings me to what bothered me the most about the Debate last night and what I cannot find anyone talking about. NOT ONE NEWS AGENCY has stated the obvious fact that Obama is NOT a democrat? It’s no secret that we all listened to Obama stutter, stumble and fumble his way through the entire debate. The thing is this; he didn’t do it because he is stupid or because he didn’t know the answers. He just couldn’t say HIS ANSWERS out loud. Go back and watch the debate and pay attention to the ONE part where he answers from the hip and responds fluently and eloquently. The debate was hard for him because of one simple fact–Obama is not a Democrat. He is a Marxist with a socialist agenda who used the Democratic Party to push his ideals and accomplish his goals. however the Democratic Party has used him as well, they considered him an “empty suit” and mistakenly thought that because their party nominated the first black president; he would be their “yes boy” and fulfill their agenda. This was never more evident than it was last night during the debate.

Obama couldn’t answer Romney with his own answers it would have revealed his Forward Socialist Plan for the country and sent voters screaming for the hills. He couldn’t answer for the Democratic Party because he doesn’t know or even agree with their stand. That left him with two words to use over and over– UH, UH,–as well as frustrated facial expressions. Did anyone else notice how relaxed he was on David Letterman, but a complete train wreck during a political debate?

Did anyone else notice that ONE part of the debate where Obama came on the strongest and most confident? He found his only balance when he stopped pretending to be a Democrat and let his full on Marxist Socialist ideals come through. Go back and watch or read the transcripts of the debate where Obama tried to slam Romney’s plan to put Medicare back on the states.

Obama said and I quote.  “Governor Romney talked about Medicaid and how we could send it back to the states——And that is not a right strategy for us to move forward.”

Romney counters with these words. “One of the magnificent things about this country is the whole idea that states are the laboratories of democracy. Don’t have the federal government tell everybody what kind of training programs they must have and what kind of Medicaid they must have. Let states do this.”

Obama’s reply concerning Medicare and Social Security were his strongest words of the night, without stuttering even once, he launched into his own FORWARD socialist views, and even used his family as an example. It was an eye opener of epic proportions when he began to talk about the life of his own sweet grandmother.

He said “She worked her way up, only had a high school education, started as a secretary, ended up being the vice president of a local bank. And she ended up living alone by choice. And the reason she could be INDEPENDENT was because of Social Security and Medicare. She had worked all her life, put in this money and understood that there was a basic guarantee, A FLOOR under which she could not go. And that’s the perspective I bring when I think about what’s called ENTITLEMENTS. You know, the name itself implies some sense of DEPENDENCY on the part of these folks. These are folks who’ve worked hard, like my grandmother. And there are millions of people out there who are counting on this.”

My mouth hit the floor as he let those words fly and no one seemed taken aback that our president basically stated  his entire socialist views in reference to his own grandmother. He told America last night that a FEMALE, with only a high school education was able to work her way up through the glass ceiling of the corporate world, went from a secretary to the vice president of a BANK; and yet she gained her Independence in her golden years BECAUSE OF the government programs which were her “floor” under which she could not go through.

He did not say it was her education in which she gained security, or her work ethic, or even her retirement plan she paid into while working hard every day as a female Vice President of a bank that allowed her to live comfortably as a senior citizen. He didn’t tell us it was because she sacrificed and raised a grandson who was a senator and that he shared his profit from living the American dream and took care of her in her old age–He told America her Independence came from her dependence on government programs which acted as her floor or foundation. He said it was Medicare and a government issued social security checks that allowed her to live alone in Hawaii until her death three days before he was elected president.  He spoke clearly and his eyes were on the camera the one and only time he let loose and spouted his Socialist ideals.

Now, my idea of the “Basic guarantee or floor I can’t go under” in reference to my government in America is this. The floor or foundation is my basic rights, my Constitution the Bill of Rights as well as the Civil Rights act. He didn’t say “My grandmother, with only a high school education busted through the glass ceiling in the corporate world as a woman and was given this opportunity only  in America because of the FLOOR or FOUNDATION beneath all women and minorities is the Civil Rights Act.”

He didn’t say “My grandmother is a great example of a lady who lived the American dream and was independent in her golden years by choice because she WORKED hard all her life and put up for her retirement.” He failed to tell us the truth which is, the floor we can’t fall under is the assurance that the foundation of the American dream allows us all the equal opportunity to strive in our youth for what brings us security as we age.

He didn’t say “My grandmother chose to live alone and was able to do so because in America you have that basic right as a human being and no panel of doctors should say when your time is up or what your quality of life score is and relocate you to a government-owned nursing home” He said it was because of her dependence on the government issued check, and the assurance that it was her floor she couldn’t fall under that allowed her to be independent and prosper later in life. HE said she COUNTED on it, and included MILLIONS of other Americans as counting on the government money to be there as well.

Barack Obama told America during a debate while seeking another FOUR year term as our President that it was the hard working Americans dependence on the government and the government programs that gave us our independence (or freedom) in life?

He is talking about a system where the government takes HUGE amounts of money from paychecks of the hardworking people and then spends it, waste it, mismanaged it and then promises to give back only a small percentage of it to help you pay your bills when you’re old. The government gives us no choice about paying into it, and no say over how they waste it.

He said the life of his grandmother is what gave him his “perspective regarding Entitlements” and “that the name itself implies DEPENDENCY” He went on to actually say that people who work hard are DEPENDING on the government programs. That is the perspective of a SOCIALIST leader America…Wake up. The truth is that it’s the HARD working people who are PAYING into these government programs…WE ARE NOT the ones counting on it to survive. The FACT is the government depends on the millions of hard-working Americans to earn the money that the government then takes away from us in the name of  Social Security and Medicare TAX. We don’t need the government to give us a check forty years later with a percentage of our money back–let us keep our money. The government needs the hard-working people to work in order to support the PORK overhead of our federal government and the people who refuse to work or save for retirement.

Now, consider this.  If Barrack Obama views his own GRANDMOTHER who raised him this way, and sees her life’s work in the light of government dependence the way he described it for us during the debate–then how in the hell do you really think he views YOU or what you have spent your life working toward?

 Democrats gone wild=Marxist Socialism on crack.

 

 

 

 

 

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Obama induced Dementia.

Today’s Rant is on Memory loss..I think America suffers from Obama induced Dementia

Americans have developed memory loss. Do any recall Obama saying ““I truly believe that the day I’m inaugurated–not only does the country look at itself differently, but the MUSLIM world looks at America differently. . . . The MUSLIM world will have confidence that I am listening to them.” (notice the word phrasing. He uses the word I as if his ability to listen to them brings world peace) He goes on to say. “If I’m reaching out to the Muslim world they understand that I’ve lived in a Muslim country …..My sister is half Indonesian, I traveled there all the way through my college years and so I’m intimately concerned with what happens in these countries and the cultures and the perspectives these folks have.” ( Yes, they look at us differently, they perceive us as a godless nation full of idiots with a weak leader and full reign to kill and destroy Americans)

He then was inaugurated and took his” first Mideast trip where President Obama went to Cairo on bended knee and blew kisses to Muslims worldwide. EVERY day now Jihadi attacks America”. The violence that killed Americans  HAS NOT been defined as an act of terror by our president yet, in order for America to defend itself. (Yet a 13-year-old AMERICAN boy was interrogated by the secret service over a Facebook post telling Obama to be careful after Osama was killed..and the law used to order this shake down of a kid regarding his Facebook was by calling it an act of Terror.)

Another thing Americans have failed to remember after being brain washed by the Obama’s is that as a senator he participated and Worked With Terrorist! (No this isn’t propaganda, its true, it happened, its documented and he never denied it..we just choose to forget it.) Obama served on the board of a controversial Arab group that granted funding to anti American sects with an agenda that calls the establishment of Israel as a “catastrophe” and supports intense immigration reform, including providing drivers licenses and education to illegal aliens. The Co-founder of this group was a professor at Columbia, one of Obama’s mentors and while Obama was PAID to be on the board of this group, Rashid Khalidi (the professor and co-founder of the group) made statements supportive of Palestinian terror and reportedly has worked on behalf of the Palestine Liberation-prior to Obama taking office this group our PRESIDENT supported and funded was labeled by the State Department as a terror group. (Another example of Americans who look, but will not see.) I am not sure that there is a cure for Voluntary Blindness. You can’t force anyone to OPEN their eyes and truly see what is in front of them.

Obama is from Indonesia, the fighting and protesting is THERE this morning, the Muslims in Indonesia are now burning American flags and chanting KILL Americans. TURN on any  news station. However,  while visiting there early in his presidency Obama called for better relations between the United States and the Muslim world. he attended and worshiped in the largest mosque in southeast Asia. (MEDIA took pics, we can still view them, we just choose to forget) Indonesia is the world’s largest majority Muslim nation, he ended his news conference at that time with these words ““salaam aleikum” and said he intended to reshape American relations with Muslim nations so they were not “focused solely on security issues,” While attending Mosque, Obama and his wife Michelle, followed the Islamic custom of removing their shoes; lady Obama wore a head shawl with beads. They walked along a courtyard on carpet escorted by the grand imam. (again there is pictures of this, America just chooses not to look)

It wasn’t that long ago that Obama said he favored the right of Muslims to build a proposed Islamic center in Lower Manhattan-at the sight of GROUND ZERO almost–How have we so quickly forgot that as well? He is treated like a celebrity in Indonesia, where the anti american protest are in full swing at the moment. On his visit there a few years ago, the RED carpet was rolled out and he and his wanna be a celebrity wife, walked the red carpet while they were cheered and hailed at like a king and queen..GO WATCH this play out, the footage has not been removed as of this morning. He was even presented with a gold medal by the president of this MUSLIM country in honor of his mother.

Today the Muslims are firing and attacking our military base in Afghanistan..they had not breached the wall…but our young men and women there have NO orders to fire back, or to protect themselves without being blamed for escalating this Muslim declared war on Americans that our president refuses to acknowledge has occurred. . An American school was attacked a few hours ago, hundreds of kids were ushered to safety, 100 of them children of American foreign diplomats and aid workers, the school was destroyed by the Muslim protesters. Still no word from our president–this would be the same type of school he claims to have attended while living overseas as a child. What is camp Obama doing this morning…slamming the candidate running against him and hitting the campaign trail for another four years to destroy our nation with the permission of Americans. While the leader of Libya is declaring the attack that killed Americans PLANNED..Obama is contradicting him and saying it was just spontaneous??? REALLY FOLKS?

Have we become so deaf and so blind in America that we have forgotten Gaddafi? Does anyone remember in the 80’s when Gaddafi was firmly anti-Israel and had supported extremist groups and the Palestinian territories and Syria while he was LEADING Libya? In 1986 Libyan agents bombed a peaceful night club in BERLIN. (very near the street my daughter lived on this summer in Germany) killing three people and injuring 229 people there.

What did the president of America do at that time to help defend the world from these fanatical terrorist? Reagan ordered a strike of Libya. In TWELVE MINUTES America dropped SIXTY TONS of munitions. Muslim crazed Libyan soldiers abandoned their positions out of fear and confusion–We failed to kill Gaddafi, only because he got a phone call warning him of the attack by an Italian politician trying to make a name for himself, but we blew his house to hell and back. We also made them REIMBURSE us…In October 2008 Libya paid US $1.5 billion, over three installments for compensation payments to American victims of terror attacks.

Today Israel is telling Americans publicly and privately that IRAN is 6 months away from nuclear warfare…our government chooses to disregard this information and claim that our intelligence says that is not true. American intelligence claims that no info was picked up to even show that our embassy was in danger as our ambassador was being killed. Do Americans really believe that American intelligence is worth any thing at that moment? SIX months out for the Muslims and protesters chanting KILL Americans to have a nuclear weapon in their hands should terrify us, it might if Americans were listening–but we are in the business of forgetting truth and ignoring what is before our very eyes. Its called Obama induced Dementia. We have ceased to be THE LAND OF THE FREE and instead are now the NATION WHO LOOKS, BUT CAN NOT SEE.

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The secret to staying married

This blog is a little older, I had written it as a note for facebook a year and a half ago..came across it and if something you wrote makes YOU laugh..well then its worth sharing agian.

Craig and I just celebrated our 23rd wedding anniversary and I had to share some of the comments made to me to regarding this. Years ago, a simple “Happy Anniversary” would have been the standard, but not in today’s time. I had people ask “HOW IN THE HELL DO YOU STAY MARRIED THAT LONG” with a crazy look in their eyes as if the prospect terrified and baffled them at the same time..

So me being me..I gave some serious thought to the question above and came up with my answer.

How in the hell do you stay married to the same person that long? Well; I came to the conclusion that you achieve this monumental goal by always checking the scales to make sure that one side has not tipped to far to the other side. For instance, do my faults out weigh his faults? Do his positive qualities still balance my not so positive ones and vise versa. I had to go back on this one a ways, and I am glad I did for the humor if nothing else.

For instance he drives me completely nuts by NOT reading directions. I have things that are still put together wrong because he refused to read instructions. I can’t stand the fact that he falls asleep on the couch each night and even though I have left him there to wake up to a stiff neck, he just don’t learn. He drives me crazy making me go “find something” right in front of his face. The man actually asked me one day where the “frozen waffles were at?” He doesn’t like to take medicine when he is sick, because he might not be able to sit there and whine and tell me how bad he feels if he does– and if he does take something it is only after asking me 20 times what he can take and how much of the medicine he should take..(he has still not figured out that over the counter cold meds do not KNOCK you on your azz for two days. Or that the reason he has that problem is because I have him take 10 times the normal dose to shut him up) If he puts 7 tsp of Benadryl in his mouth without reading the back of the bottle, that’s not my fault. His last blood work was fine, so its safe to say I have not caused him any irreversible liver damage

My husband is the type who doesn’t mess up much, but when he does–he does it so big and with such a bang I am not likely to forget it anytime soon. YEARS ago on our anniversary, he went off with the guys after work–without telling me…I was dressed up and ready, with a baby sitter, excited and waiting on him to walk in the door—he stumbled in the door at like 2 am and grinning..he promised to take me to the “flea market” on Bank head the next day to make up for it..( I am not kidding..)  I proceeded to lock him downstairs when he mistakenly went down there in a drunken state of mind–the kids let him up the next morning. lol

Even the delivery room is not the Hallmark card experience with us..He had the nerve to ask the doctor while I was in labor with one child if we could “postpone” it just two days so our son would have a better “baseball birthday!” (the age cut off was two days later.) He left me in the middle of a contraction during labor with another child to change the radio I had in the room to relax me..he cranked up “Leave this Long haired Country Boy alone” singing at the top of his lungs..while I screamed bloody murder. By the time our youngest was born, he was in no hurry to get me there or get the doctor even though I was screaming I had to PUSH..his calm reply—“I’ve seen this four times now..I could deliver this one.” See– that calmness of his also drives me nuts sometimes..He also drives me crazy with the way he drives..For years I have slammed my hand on the dash and made this hissing sucking in of breath sound when I get scared. One day the kids were acting crazy in the backseat..I slam my hand on the dash, suck in my breath and before I can threaten to come back there and beat them..he was locking down the brakes on I-20..we were sliding all over the road, cars were swerving to miss us..I yell “What in the hell happened!” He looks at me all crazy eyed and says..YOU SLAMMED YOUR HAND ON THE DASH!”  See that only proved he had been depending on ME to pay attention for him by hitting my dash break!!!

I could go on and on..but I have to be fair and check the other side of the scale– my side.

I am sure I have driven him just as crazy. He has this thing about NO MORE PETS..I would let the kids keep them. So when the kids found a little bitty kitten we nursed it back to health, bottle fed it and treated it like a baby. One day about a year later I was running late for Justen’s baseball game, trying to get his uniform clean. I get the clothes out of the dryer and freak out…I call hubby at work and I am screaming in a broken hysterical voice..”I killed…I killed..I killed…” I couldn’t get much else out…Craig finally yells into the phone…”YOU KILLED WHAT!!!” I hiccup and cry…”THE CAT!!!”  He proceeds to hang up on me because he thought I had killed one of the kids, he later said that his heart was stuck in his throat. I was distraught because I had accidentally dried the cat in the dryer, when I took the clothes out– the poor cat was wrapped in a towel and when I went to unwrap the towel; thinking it was just twisted up…out fell the cat at my feet..stiff as a board with its tongue hanging out and all its fur fluffed up.. it looked like I had taken it to the taxidermist. I was hysterical, the neighbor was laughing hysterically and by the time I got to the game everyone was walking up to me and going..”meeeeow” —–but my hubby..well he got to the game late because he had to go home and bury yet another animal. (I had also ran over a stray dog I had taken in the week before)

Back in our newly married years I got mad..(for good reason)..but I put Nair hair remover in his hair while he was asleep and watched it fall out for days and didn’t tell him what I did..He looked like a spotted porcupine. He kept telling everyone not to get their hair cut at this place on Hwy 5 because they had jacked him up! (five years later after leaving a church revival I confessed..lol)

I have “lost” my car in the parking lot numerous times and called him certain that our car had been stolen. I can’t count the times he has come to pick me up,  only to “find” the car where I parked it. He now keeps the batteries replaced in my key chain without ever saying a word about the fact I set off my car alarm to find my car. He has also calmly handled all the 911 calls to our house over crazy stuff my kids have done that I freaked out over..from Justen drinking miracle grow..to Amberley choking on a life saver..(which the EMT informed me is impossible to choke to death on.)

He just shakes his head and doesn’t say much when I get crazy ideas in my mind, like making him drive home another way because I had a “bad feeling” not one but TWO deer would run out in the road in front of us..(he might joke and call me Mrs. Cleo, but he goes another way home) The next day when TWO deer darted in front of our car (just like I said would happen)..he didn’t give me any credit..he just said..”You were wrong, didn’t happen yesterday” Another man might have me burned at the stake for such insight.

He has put up with me and my hot flashes and the times I have made us sleep with the windows open while its 22 degrees out side..he just wakes up cussing that “he can see his damn breath!” but he leaves my windows open..He laughs when I go psycho while dealing with the cable company and speaking to someone in India who can’t speak English..although one day not long after me calling one of those outsourced idiots a trained terrorist using the cable company to infiltrate our nation.. Craig did look a little nervous when some kid up the street beat on the door like a “warrant knock”

He just raised his eyebrows when he came home from work about a year ago and there were 2 black hefty garbage bags full of all our plastic cups, bowls and containers of any kind in the trash and everything in the kitchen was replaced with glass. I read this medical report about the harmfulness of heated plastic and tossed all ours out. I have animals buried all over two counties..left each of my kids somewhere by accident once..sent him outside in his undies with a baseball bat numerous times over something I heard in the night..I make him drag out all my Christmas decor by the first of October..and watch all 24 hours of a Christmas Story Marathon on Christmas Eve. I have laughed at his expense NUMEROUS times until I really did PEE my pants..like the time my foot was broke and the youngest set off the house alarm at 2am..I used my cast to push Craig out of the bed..in one big kick he was levitated in the air before falling flat on his face..and then the socks he sleeps in wouldn’t give him traction to get up off the hardwood floors..the alarm is blaring, dogs are howling, I am by this point laughing hysterically..and he is waking up to being slammed face first in the floor and then had to crawl to the door frame to pull himself up. Our marriage has been a lot of things, but dull is not one of them.

So this weekend we went to Look Out Mountain for our anniversary..we drove up and down the damn thing FOUR times looking for one spot because he would NOT stop and ask for directions..As the kids got closer and closer to the edge making me crazy..he just calmly says..”aww..they wont fall”  He was right I guess..I made it home will the three I took up there..but to balance the scales a little bit..We did walk out of a restaurant because the people were sooo rude that I just told the kids to get up and lets go….much to his embarrassment..lol..(that kind of stuff drives him nuts) I also spent the entire trip saying “slow down..get over..dear God don’t run up under the 18 wheeler!” and hitting my dash break until my  hand was sore. So I guess the secret to 23 years of marriage  is craziness and balance..or learning how to balance the craziness..and keeping it equal..or at least knowing when to equal it out..how do you make it to 23 years..by making it through 22 years! We have made it so far from high school dating and the prom together to having babies and eating frozen pot pies every night because they were four for a dollar and we were broke as a joke..now we have hit a year filled with heel spurs and hot flashes..each year brings new changes..keep it balanced..I mean our year would have been pure hell with him having heel spurs to bitch about if I hadn’t had the hot flashes to TRUMP that!!!!

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Terrible Two’s are a practice run for raising teenagers

To all the moms out there who had your kids one after the other; if I looked at you in the store with a baby screaming in your arms and three more under the age of 3 tagging along behind you looking like little stair steps; or if I made you feel that you were completely insane–I am sorry for my judgmental view.

You had the right idea of it, if you want four kids; then have them all as close together as possible– that way you get through all the crazy stages at one time; unlike me who spaced out my four children to the point I will be dealing with a teenagers and their craziness for EVER!

I will end up having a child of mine in the terrible teens for 17 years of my LIFE! — Needless to say the 15-year-old decided to pull another stunt (not on a trampoline this time but could have ended up in serious trouble) as if my lecture and grounding last week wasn’t enough. Now, I am forced to be a jail house warden. I have suspended his cell phone service (literally I called and had it disconnected) —no phone or texting, I have deactivated his Facebook account, and grounded him to the house until Valentine’s Day–I have taken his PS3 and put a time limit on TV  and Lights Out by 10pm. He can only have approved visitors and those visitors can only come see him during specified hours…

Just like the local newspaper does; I have made his “sentence” public as well via Facebook…Not to mention Craig and I have started a diet so I’m sure supper for the next few weeks will be like prison grub to him…I figure that since he now has a brand new weight bench and weights he received for Christmas, then he can really get the true feel of a prison/lock down experience and when he completes his time served then he will be released all “swelled up” with some muscles and on fire for Jesus having hopefully “seen the light”

I love my kids to the moon and stars, but I think all parents need to stop wishing for the handbook all babies should come with and instead have this little crystal ball that peers into the future. When your teaching your one year old a new word and clapping and going all crazy because they are learning to talk, you should be able to see those very words you’re so proud of them learning as they are being said  back to you from your 14-year-old with a smart mouth.

When you’re a young mama all strung out from no sleep and rocking a screaming baby and its working on your last nerve, you should be able to see yourself a nervous wreck wishing that baby was in your arms and not 17 years old busting curfew while not answering your phone calls.

When that sweet little baby starts to walk and you and your spouse sit in the floor and have your child take practice steps while you cry and clap for the act of walking, you should be able to peer into that ball and see your child use those same legs as a teenager to jump off a roof, or do back flips; half twist, full pike blah blah off a trampoline.

When your baby gets their first battery operated car like the big foot or Barbie jeep and you run around the yard filming or taking pictures and encouraging them to “push the button to make it go” you should be able to see yourself a few years later at the DMV with knots in your stomach while that same child begs and pleads to drive YOU out of there on a real road– in a real car –with the learners permit they JUST received.

When you walk into the kitchen as a young mama and see the lid off the cookie jar and a chair pushed to the counter and think the situation humorous; while grinning at your precious three-year old who has chocolate smeared all over their face, while they are shaking their head NO at you when you ask “did you eat a cookie?” We should have a flash of that same child looking us in the eye as a teenager and lying about where they have been or what they did. The humor and grin just seem to dissipate.

Maybe if we had that crystal ball then all of us would have twenty year old children we never taught to walk or talk and are too big to rock anymore—I don’t know—or maybe we would really enjoy those young years and not push so hard to have them reach the next level so fast.

It’s just crazy to me how the hormones associated with puberty fry the brain. Perhaps instead of a hand book or crystal ball, parents should have someone older and wiser sit them down and explain that the ONE single year of the terrible two’s is nothing but practice for the six years to come between the ages of 13 and 19.

It’s as if all the years between the terrible two’s and teenage years are lost and you pick right back up where you left off at two.  You spend from 3 years of age until 10 teaching your child how to pick up their mess, clean up their room; how to take a proper bath and have good hygiene—only to have them seemingly master it by the age of 9 or 10 with pride and turn 13 and forget it all as if they suffered brain damage overnight!

Their bedroom becomes a war zone, a closet holds everything but their clothes which end up everywhere but the closet; they can’t pick up a towel or wash cloth from the bathroom and carry it to the hamper. If you’re lucky you might have a year or two where the young child learns to make a sandwich or a bowl of cereal for themselves and you beam with pride—only to have the 16-year-old put the cereal back unclosed, leave the milk out on the counter for hours on end and you can just about forget them ever remembering to tie wrap a loaf of bread—I actually told one of my boys that the only thing I felt like we had truly mastered was Potty Training; because it was the only thing he did on his own as a teenager that I didn’t have to go behind him and clean up afterwards.

The erratic sleep habits of the baby come back with a vengeance as well, a teenager stays awake half the night and if allowed would sleep “on demand” and wake up during daylight hours only to pee, poo and be fed or if a female wake up only to be moody, fussy and ill before crashing again. Remember when your baby would just get “fussy” for no reason and you blamed it on over stimulation or teething or just being grumpy? Well get ready for round two; only this time you get to blame the moodiness and irritability on hormones. Instead of whining in gibberish you can’t understand, the teenager bitches and gripes and complains with a very well versed command of the English language (which YOU clapped for when they learned) and you get to understand every single word of it.

Remember the terrible two’s when your precious angel learned to tell you NO and managed to get into everything and you spent all your time trying to catch them, train them, discipline them and set boundaries? Well you get to do all that over again– but with a teenager it’s different because the two-year old only knows what he or she wants, and doesn’t understand they can’t have every demand met instantly. The two-year old doesn’t understand danger yet and when they feel pain they run crying for mama or daddy. A teenager not only knows what they want, but they also KNOW everything else in the world as well—they are suddenly so much smarter than you and they perceive themselves as invincible. They understand danger; they just believe it will never happen to them; and if by chance they get into danger doing something crazy—mama and daddy are the last to know.

Do you remember how you had to read sign language from your baby? You knew if they wanted to be picked up when they grunted and stretched their arms up. Well you get to re-learn how to be an interpreter again with your teenager; only this time if you see a glazed look in their eyes and you receive a hug as they walk by—PLEASE translate that into meaning they did something stupid and were almost killed. You will find out all the details when they are twenty and I promise they will laugh telling you every vivid part of it.

Do you remember not understanding what your baby wanted and having to point at everything saying “That? Do you want that?” Same thing with a teenager, only you sit there for hours saying “do you need to talk? Do you want to talk about it?” Or how about your two-year old throwing an ultimate temper tantrum over a broken toy or something minor when you consider the fact they were clean, dry, fed and loved—you didn’t freak out that they didn’t understand at that age what was meaningful in the real world, as the parent you understood that the perception of the two-year old was out of whack. All they saw was the broken toy. Magnify that by a million and you might, just might have an image of the teenage girl drama over something so irreverent that in just a few years– she won’t even remember what she screamed, cried and lost sleep over or had you up half the night listening to her vent about. It’s eerily similar to the broken toy you both had forgotten about by the time she has her first break up and broken heart.

Have you ever wondered why only teenagers drive by busting mail boxes off post with baseball bats or drag race down straight stretches of black top? Do you know anyone under the age of 10 and over the age of 20 that will SHARE a piece of gum straight out of another person’s mouth? A kid knows better and a 20-year-old is grossed out by the fact half of them DID share gum while a teenager!  It has to be a brain disorder of temporary proportions.

The whole “germ” thing with 2 year olds, like putting their mouth on everything and running around with snotty noses and a bad cough drove me nuts—about the time you think you have taught them to be clean, blow their nose and cover their mouth—they turn 15 and will kiss and swap spit with the opposite sex at any given opportunity and by high school half of them have kissed the other persons weekly girl friend or boyfriend—so instead of ear infections you go to the doctor for mono. You have to keep a constant check on two-year olds when they have play group to make sure they are sharing, you have to keep check on a group of teenagers to make sure they DON’T share too much.

You may have had a horrid day with your two-year old, but by bed time you could gaze at them and swear there was no sweeter angel on earth than that sleeping child—You will have many tough days with your teenager and you will still look upon them in sleep wondering where your baby went..but.. if they catch you gazing on them while they sleep, they will accuse you of snooping through their bedroom and the next day they will clean it and destroy all evidence.

A two-year old will never trade a cookie for carrot and a teenager will never admit you know what is best for them. The good things you want for them will come later when they suddenly settle down and grow up. Then and only then will they understand that you loved them and always wanted what was best for them—even when they were at their worst. I know this because God has proven this point home twice already with my older two children.

Justen called home tonight right as Craig and I were in the middle of building some Godly Character in our 15-year-old and sentencing him to his punishment. My oldest son wanted to know how long Chicken stayed good in the freezer because he was cooking himself a healthy meal. The thought occurred to me how much junk food, pizza, roman noodles and cheese sticks Justen lived off of as a teenager. He now lives on his own, and eats asparagus, spinach and stir-fry, has not touched caffeine in four years and is truly health conscious. I remembered how hard it was to get him to bring up his laundry at 16—now he washes his own clothes and enjoys having things clean. The terrible two’s seem so long ago and even the crazy teenage years seem less traumatic than they did at the time I went through them with him.

So I took a breath and tried to imagine I had a crystal ball to see Cason in a few years as well—this crazy, cocky, self-assured child of mine will not to lie to his wife because he didn’t get away with lying to his mama. He will use that adventurous spirit to do great things and if I stand firm during these roller coaster years; then he gets the chance to truly be free and live the life he is meant to live. Until then he is on lock down doing some hard time with some of mama’s “tough love.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

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