Give It To Me Straight

I was channel surfing this morning and briefly came across a news piece that ran sound bites of the Republican presidential candidates wives.  One of the clips came from John Huntsman's wife, Mary Kaye.  She was asked what it's like campaigning with their seven children.  She gracefully smiled and said that it was "joy".

I just about threw up.

The Huntsman's children range in age from 26 to 5, so I'm sure that not ALL of them are on the campaign trail with them all of the time.  I'm also sure that for the most part, the family is having a good time and finding ways to bond together and become closer as a family.  But "joy"?

Please.

As a woman, I have a hard enough time trying to keep my own life (family, church and school) in balance.  I don't have time to put on airs, to pretend that my life is perfect, and I certainly don't need anyone blowing smoke at me.

Mary Kaye Huntsman is a good woman, to be sure.  She supports her husband in his political pursuits, no matter where they may take him; and anyone who adopts a child is truly a savior to that child, as the Huntsman's are to their youngest.  So don't misunderstand my rant to be bashing on her in particular.  Mary Kaye also may have gone on to say other things and I only heard her in just that particular clip.  But that phrase really irritated me.

Tell me like it is.

Tell me that there are fun times, but there are also times when you want to just turn on the TV for the kids and head for the hills.  Or the mall.  Or just the bathroom.  And never come back.

Tell me that there are moments that bring you to your knees, pleading with God to just stick with you for one hour more, because if He doesn't, one of your children may meet Him sooner than later.

Tell me that sometimes the sweetest times come after the worst times, when the proverbial sun comes out from the rain and a rainbow appears.

Tell me that it's o.k. to fall into a heap of tears when the pressures of motherhood, wifedom, and womanhood come crashing down on you all at the same time.

Tell me your children have flaws that grate on your nerves, that your husband forgets to do the small things, and that you feel lonely in a crowd of people at times.

Tell me that you often are exhausted, that you feel on the brink of an emotional collapse, and that if your cell phone rings again or you get one more text, you're going to chuck it into the nearest body of water.

Please tell me you feel these things.

Because I often do.  And I don't hide it or try to make it seem as though everything is hunky-dory.

And if someone asks, I tell them the truth.

So please tell me that yes, it's hard.  I know there are moments of happiness and times of joy.  But there are also days of struggle and hours of heartache.

I just lean on the Lord through the heartache to get to the joy.

Then I revel in it.

Because I know the next hill on this rollercoaster ride is just around the corner.

Declaring War

This is happening far more frequently than I like.  I'm seeing signs of aging.  And it's irritating.

Like my hair.  It's going gray.  My Combat Weapon?
Thank you Clairol.

Like my arms.  Namely, my triceps.  They're getting flappy.  My Combat Weapon?
Thank you backwards push ups.

Like my facial skin.  It's getting blotchy.  And liney.  My Combat Weapon?
Thank you Sephora.

Like my joints.  My right thumb joint.  It hurts all the time.  My Combat Weapon?
Thank you martyr attitude.

Like my ability to heal.  A simple cut takes a lot longer now.  My Combat Weapon?
Thank you Band Aid.

Like my ability to eat lots of candy and junk on Saturdays.  My tummy can't take it anymore.  My Combat Weapon?
Thank you fun-size candy bars.

While I stay in denial as much as I can (which I call Denialand), my children and husband are doing a good job of keeping me in reality (which I call Just Mean).  I feel young, but my body is telling me otherwise.


I refuse to go down without a fight.  (Re: Combat Weapons)  I will not try and be a teenager anymore, however I will not, WILL NOT be a gray old lady sooner than I need to.  If ever.  However, if I continue to focus not on what I can't do anymore or what is achy, broken, or not what it used to be; but rather who I can become for eternity, that will help my mental state.  Besides, after I die, I'll be the best me I was in this life.  And I won't have to worry about aging anymore.

Betcha Didn't Know......

We're still discovering each other.

I've been married to Sweetie for nearly 19 years.  I think that's kind of a long time. 

(That might have come out wrong.....)

And yet, after all those years, there are still things that I'm learning about my cute husband.

For example, he loves cream cheese frosting on cinnamon rolls.

I just found that out about three weeks ago.

I've made cinnamon rolls once a month for about six years now.  Usually with my typical butter-vanilla-powdered sugar-milk frosting.  On occasion, I would whip up a cream cheese frosting instead.  Sweetie just told me his preference after all this time.

Huh.  Never saw that one.

I guess he wants to keep me on my toes.

So, with that in mind, I thought I'd share with my friends and family five things you probably didn't know about me.

My favorite treat beverage

(1)  I don't like to drink soda out of a can.  It's too fizzy.  I prefer it in a glass with a little bit of ice.

Rascal Flatts makes harmonizing easy!

(2)  I love to sing along to the music in my car.  Or my house.  Wherever.  But I sing harmony whenever I can.  I've never felt like my voice was a solo/melody voice.  I'm an alto.  Alto to me equals backup singer.

(3)  I don't keep dirty dishes in my sink.  I hardly ever put dishes in my sink.  I also NEVER leave dishes in my sink overnight, or clutter on my kitchen counters.  I hate coming downstairs to a messy kitchen first thing in the morning.  It makes me feel like I'm already behind in my chores for the day.  So where do I put the dishes as they are dirtied?  Straight in the dishwasher.

Ick.

(4)  I am always willing to try new foods and for the most part, I like everything I try.  Except okra.  I got some okra last year and made it into a gumbo.  All I can say is ick.  Ick.  ICK.  The texture was slimy (which I can deal with), and the taste was terrible (which I can't deal with).  I've never eaten again.  Probably never will.  Ick.

The app I'm using to run farther.

(5)  I'm training to run a 5K.  I hate running.  I hate being out of breath which means I hate running.  But I know it's good for me, it helps my workout go faster, and I feel like my current run needs to be expanded.  I need to push myself.  I've been doing this for six weeks now and it's getting harder.  And sweatier.  I'm going to need to find a good dry shampoo on my running days because I don't have time to wash my hair every day.  (Alicia....recommendations?)  I don't know what 5K I will participate in or how I'll keep that distance going after I'm done training, but I do know I kind of like bragging to Sweetie how far I run.

So, that's some of me.  I'm sure there's more, but I'm still figuring me out, too.  It's fun to come to new realizations of myself...things I've done all along and just now recognize.  My thirties (uh....I mean my twenties.....) have been filled with lots of self-discoveries.  I hope the best is yet to come.