Tag Archives: young gun

By Golly, Be Happy

For a year I have watched my beautiful husband endure things no twenty-eight year old should. I have watched him run the gamut of emotion—both good and bad, big and small. I have seen him step above and beyond and I have watched him completely fall apart. I have seen a spirit break before my very eyes. But there have been tiny moments of sunshine he clung to, preventing the quicksand to take him under. No matter how deep the cuts, he clung to something–anything–and managed to still stay on solid ground. How ‘bout that?

Watching him find joy, even the size of a mustard seed, and hold onto it for strength and peace has helped me. It has helped me to find the small and be thankful. Even in the horrible moments when the entire house smells like sick and we are all (even the dog) burying our heads in toilets and trash cans, there is a smile in it. Even when The Baby and The Girl take foul balls like champs, there is a breath of thanks and an ounce of joy there. Even when all he can do is wave at a picture, there is a glimpse of happiness buried beneath the sad.

I am learning how to find the slivers of happy in the pile of difficult. Watching YG has taught me a thing or two about the human spirit. Joy is never far. Yea, letting go is tough and yea, people are completely stupid (understatement), but does that really mean we have to let it consume us—eat away at our happy like cancer? I am making the decision that no matter what comes my way, I will be happy.

I will be happy because there is every reason to be. I need to take small things and hold them close and be grateful. Nope, not much is perfect or even to my liking these days, but daggumit I’mma turn toward the good stuff and bask in it. Why the hell not?

Nothing is ever easy. Life is full of crap shoots and luck of the draws. Money is never, ever right, kids are friggin annoying 23/6, jobs are never perfect, traffic always sucks balls and there is forever never enough time in the day. But that only lasts for a night, doesn’t it? Happiness is right around the corner, we just need to hold on long enough to see it. It ain’t always gonna be right, but by golly, it’s right enough for me to be happy.

~SM

Pride & Surprise

What moments and milestones make you most proud? How did God surprise you? (Grit & Virtue)

Every morning, I drag myself into the daycare with Cookie in tow. Eyes still filled with sleep and a silent begging to the lottery gods, I open the door and plant the baby on the floor. I hand over bottles and baby food and ready myself for the next leg of my morning journey. On these mornings, body still aching for the bed, Mrs. J greets us with a smile and asks the rudimentary questions any caregiver should ask. Unsure of how this one morning turned, we got on the topic of my job which then turned into a conversation about me being a writer which steered into the direction of her being a writer too. She wanted to write a book, but was unsure of where to start. A children’s book, go figure. If anyone could, she most definitely should. You have to be sent from God to deal with a room full of slobbering, snotting, crying, peeing/pooping little humans day in and day out. “Hm, I have something for you,” I said. The next morning, I handed her the last (hard) copy of my book. She beamed and said she would read it over the Christmas break and return it when we came back. I waved her off and told her to keep it. It was just collecting dust in a drawer anyway.

There are many moments when I am proud. I am proud of The Boy and all of his accomplishments on the field and his heart off it. I am proud of The Girl and her resourcefulness and her ability to sincerely care for others. I am proud of Young Gun fighting through grief and sadness and still look to the brighter side. I am proud of my parents for still grinding and still giving. I am proud of everyone in my life who does. The only person I am ever, hardly proud of…is me. But this morning, a break in the clouds came and a little warmth buzzed in my belly. This morning, I was proud.

Today was unlike any other. I shuffled into the room, Cookie in hand, ready to just crawl back into bed. “Today I have a purpose!” Mrs. J exclaimed through a broad, gap-toothed smile. For the last few weeks, she has been throwing quotes my way. They are mine. My words. She uses the book/journal as her daily devotional. This morning’s message was to go back to the point in your life when you were doing something that made you happy, really, really happy. She did. She found it was writing. She proceeded to tell me in a rush of words that Today I AM was a blessing. It has helped her so much thus far and she loved it. I sheepishly nodded and smiled. “Great! That was the point. If it helped just one person…” I said with a smile. I kissed Cookie and waved good-bye, smiling to myself just a bit. How ‘bout that.

To actually hold the book in my hands was amazing enough. I had done it. I had taken everything I had gone through over the course of these last four years and managed to make a work of art. I left it on the shelf (literally and figuratively) for the better part of the year due to extenuating circumstances, but in the 11th hour, she appeared again. God surprised me, alright. He not only allowed me to accomplish a major goal, but He made the broken pieces more meaningful than I could have ever imagined. And, yet, He didn’t stop there. He used it all to help someone else become a better them. I shouldn’t be surprised by what He does. But I am.

In the wise words of The Anchorman, I am a glass case of emotion. Just under the surface, there is pride, gratitude, and praise. I am proud of my abilities. I am grateful He chose to use me. I am dancing on the inside thanking Him for loving me enough to put so much greatness in such an unworthy package. Won’t He do?

~Today I HAVE purpose…SM

Being Helpful

I have about $34 to my name currently. I also have a $20 bill nestled safely and sweetly in my wallet. It has lived there for the past 3 weeks. On top of the $34 and the $20 I have about $1000+ I will  spend in the next few days for a baseball trip–of which I currently do not have. Go figure. The only reason why I have not drowned my sorrows in cake and ice cream just yet is because I have faith that He will make everything okay. But you know what they say…faith without work is dead. So, I decided to put in a little bit of work.

I hate asking for help. I would sit in the dark with only candles for light before I opened my mouth to ask for help. It is unfortunate, but it is who I am. I am learning, however, that that is what family and friends are for. So I put a little bit of my head on their shoulders when my back is crushing the wall. This week (please reference the $1000+ above) my spine is cracking the drywall. I asked for help.

My aunt and uncle were one of the first to answer the call. When my uncle answered the call, he reminded me to tithe. It was a funny thing he had mentioned it because it was nothing more than confirmation. Just a week prior I had prayed about my situation (as a whole) and what I should do and the only thing that came back was that. It stayed on my mind for days afterward–you know that nagging pull and tug? Yes, that was it. Okay God, I understand. I have a plan. Starting July 1 I would have it all in place. So–yea–the thing about God and plans….

Remember the mention of that sweet little $20 bill I have tucked away? It is no longer tucked–in my wallet anyway. YG came into the office looking for food to feed his face. He also mentioned that he was trying to drum up cab fare for a lady who had been sitting in the lobby trying to figure out how she would get to where she needed to go. Angel tap, mental nod, bye bye $20. He took a $20 bill out of his wallet ready to hand it to her and I slipped my $20 out too. “You sure?” He said. “Yup.” I said. “Ok, I will try to get you your money back.” I shook my head. “No need. I don’t want it back.” And truthfully, I didn’t.

Someone sewed a seed for me in my time of need and it seemed only fitting that I did the same. The Angel tap didn’t hurt either. I have learned not to argue with God or to hem and haw at His instruction. We have no idea what His plan is. It feels good to be helpful when I am in need of help. To be able to give openly knowing it is His will and for His good and not my own, feels right. I like feeling good and right. It also feels kinda cool to get my sweet little $20 back…she didn’t need quite so much after all 🙂

~SM

What IS This, Exactly?

I am not one for a bunch of emotion. I think these past two years have been the most outwardly emotional I have been in quite some time (or maybe ever). I know what those look/feel like. I know what fear looks like; I know what joy feels like; I know what anger says….but as of late I am a walking cesspool of butterflies and smiles. WTF is that???

I caught myself smiling at the ceiling at work one morning–lost in thought. I found myself battling butterflies and squishy insides one afternoon. I called Brooklyn yesterday and literally screamed in her ear for no reason other than just to get whatever this crap is out. What is happening to me?

I left my car keys hanging in the car door. I left my office keys hanging in my desk drawer. I can barely string together a sentence or comprehend what people are saying because my brain is like scrambled eggs (gosh that sounds good right now…I’m starving…see what I mean…lost focus). My heart skips beats and I swear I blush about 50 times a day. I am a walking, barely talking skin bag full of squishiness and fog.

Even now I sit with butterflies in my belly, floating from one end to another. Do I have some sort of disease? Is it Shingles? I have had chicken pox, you know. Scarlet Fever? The Flu? It’s not crabs because my gentiles don’t itch. And, no, I am not with child–this uterus is on lock down. Perhaps the Zombie Virus is a real thing and my body is fighting it with a vengeance? Whatever is happening, it feels funky but it feels good. I feel like I am floating beyond Cloud 9.

~SM

Young Gun: The Kiddie Mix & Mingle

Young Gun came in knowing I had children. He understood the dynamic of my family life. He knew my rules about coming to the house, and meeting the children. He was patient and kind with it all. Still is actually.  The children understood I would date. They understood there would be phone conversations and dates on kid-free weekends. The children knew I would not bring anyone into their lives or their home with out careful consideration. Everyone understood that separation, for me, was paramount. Soooo why now does it seem like everyone is moving ahead and I am standing still?

When I left The He, I had a long list of rules. I would not date anyone right away. I would not sleep with anyone right away. No one was allowed in my home. No one was allowed to meet the children. (There are more, but I won’t dare bore you with the rest) I have stuck to every rule, except now, things are moving faster and they are changing.

One of the many bullet points in the parental job description is to protect. As a parent, my job is to shield the kids from as much harm as I can. Logically, I know I can’t protect them from life itself, but I can protect them from the mistakes I make. What if it doesn’t work? What if we end up hating each other? What if it’s too soon? What if the kids love him but he doesn’t like them? What if he gets too attached? What if we all get too attached? There is an intricate web being weaved here and I am desperately trying not to get the kids caught.

I suppose it is a mute point, right now anyway. No one is hanging out with anybody just yet. I still have to wrap my head around a few things as it is. When the time is right, when I am comfortable with it enough to consider letting both parties mingle, it will happen. Until then, I just need for the outside to slow down….just a little.

~SM

Changing Status

There. I said it. I have been keeping it close to the chest for a few days now, unsure of the reaction it would elicit (unsure of my own reaction).

It feels strange. Not that anything has changed per say, but just the fact that there is now another layer being added to our–uhh–The Us is an odd fit (saying the word ‘relationship’ when speaking of the romantic variety is hard to actually say…it gets stuck in my throat…it’s a work in progress).

For the past 5 months or so, Young Gun and I have been conversing on a friendly (but a little more than friendly) level. Butterflies, stolen flirty glances, and swift middle school kisses have floated in and out of our pretend relationship for a while. I made sure to keep all options open (as did he) and just simply enjoy the pretend. Funny thing about pretending–if you do it long enough, you are bound to start the real thing.

Quite honestly (despite the apparent inability to say the word ‘relationship’), I am happier. He does not expect me or want me to be anything other than myself. He totally digs my fro, prefers jeans, sneeks, and a naked face over 5″ heels and short skirts, and believes I can do whatever I put my mind to. When I told him about The Marathon, he didn’t double over in laughter for 10 minutes (yes…that actually happened to me before). When my hair is huge & ridiculously fro-ish, he gives me a high five and smiles. When he sees me in jeans and a tee shirt, it is like metal to a magnet. I can say weird stuff or laugh at terrible jokes or drag him to see awful chick flicks and he accepts it all. He constantly reminds me to not open the door for myself or carry things when he is around.  He knows which weekends are my free weekends without me ever saying a word. He is respectful of my children and the space I require for them. I. Am. Happier.

I am still riding this ride one day at a time. I am still just having fun. I am still just keeping pace. I am still putting focus where it is needed. There is no pressure to be anything other than myself; no pressure to do anything other than what I do; no pressure to go where I don’t normally go. He is simple. This is simple. We are simple. And after the long journey I had before, simple (and slow) is just fine by me. Now…about those wedding dresses….(NOT!)  😛

~SM

Warning! Warning! Undies Are Rolling Down Yo’ Belly

Picture it: Black leggings, black knee high leather boots, black sweater, make-up on, lips glossed….undies rolling. It has happened to me plenty of times. I look fab and feel fab only to have my underwear slowly roll down my belly and slip to a stop under the gut. Can you say mood ruin-er?

This, ladies, is a warning. Your undies are saying “warning! warning! your ass is getting fat!” Any time your undergarments start oozing out flesh or wedging in uncomfy places or rolling down your gut, this is a warning that you are, indeed, getting fatter. So…here…I will admit that I am getting fatter.

I have been training for the Tri for a few of months. I cannot say I can actually complete it with out dying, but I can say my body is more than ready for better nutrition. Young Gun threw down the weight loss gauntlet a few weeks ago and he’s already getting slimmer (in the waist anyway–and currently I hate him so hard right now). Over the past few days I have laid on Mommy’s couch eating cake for breakfast and cookies for lunch. I am deathly afraid of stepping on that scale, but I have got to put my too-small-for-me big girl panties on and hop to it.

No more games (yes…I have muttered those words before). No more excuses (yup…those too). No more slipping and getting lazy (mmhm…this too). Not only do I have a triathlon to finish training for, but I also have a marathon to train for and a friggin weight loss challenge with a young cat to complete. I have no more room for failure. Besides…I am sick of rolling up my underwear.

I will do what I have to do. Eat what I have to eat. Run what I have to run. Lift what I have to lift. I will get to wherever my body wants to take me. The pressure I feel is good pressure. I’m not worried. I am, however, a little annoyed that Young Gun is trying to beat me. There is no way I can let him win…him or my underwear…

~SM