sowing seeds of chaos

I know I still need to finish my “scarred” series, but I am not ready.  I know once I write the last chapter, it is done.  I will have said my peace, packed up, and said “finito.”  But that day is not today.  I want to wrestle up those last thoughts and issues and lay them down.  I crave exhaustion and the ability to bow over my work.  (Dramatic, yes, but the thought still dances in my mind.)

I did hear about D a few times in the last week- the benefit of running in the same circles, yet still two states apart?  She is pregnant again, but she has had many complications. 

Did I mention before she bragged to me that she is super fertile?  Yeah, according to her, she “can get pregnant any time I want.”  Not words you want to say to a “friend” whose doctor advised her to err on the side of caution in wanting to get pregnant.  I love my sister who retorts, “That’s not something to brag about- it’s not like she has any control over it!”  (My sister, who has gotten pregnant with two children immediately twice).  I replay her comments in my head today.  What a snotty person she is!  And, let’s see…  Before January, she had been pregnant six times but only has three kids.  Fifty-fifty odds aren’t good.  Now on her seventh pregnancy, she has been hospitalized and put on bed rest on and off. 

I want to say something snotty to her or backhanded.  But, I hear how her husband needs to get a second job to pay the bills or that they are selling as much as possible just to keep a float (which is totally bizarre because I know how much he makes).  Oh, yeah, her power was turned off last year.  And their water.  Oh, and they couldn’t afford gas making nearly twice as much as the national household average.  Wow.  Their lives are in chaos.  How sad for her children to live in a home where their mom is unstable, their dad cheats, and the utilities are randomly cut off.  They have farm animals that keep dying on their land.  All of their dozens of animals have died.  That is traumatic.  Seriously.  Your mother miscarries twice in one year and blames one of them on you and your siblings?  Yeah, seriously wicked.

I think of how many times D said something, and I brushed it off.  Or, I was drowning in her incessant talking, that I was swept away in daydreaming.  As I get out, I want to shake my head and go on the attack, but isn’t she already suffering enough?  You reap what you sow, though.  She pushed me away when I wanted to help.  She has pushed her husband into the arms and beds of numerous women.  She has pushed security, but for what?  So that she could sow seeds of chaos?  I realize I don’t need to hurt her- she’s far better at it right now anyhow, hurting herself.  I am glad I am out.  Stepped away from chaos and living a blessed life.  How much pain can someone bring on herself before she wants to stop?

So sad.  So, I pray she finds peace, put the seeds away, and step out of chaos into clarity for a life and heart the Lord truly wishes she had.

L

criticism

Have you heard it takes three positive affirmations to undo the damage done by one negative comment?  Sometimes, it feels like we need more than three.  That for all the positive, glowing words we receive, the things that often stick and torment our thoughts are the ones that are less than becoming.

When I was in college, I dated a cute guy.  A cute, smart guy that sometimes seemed brainless.  He was rash and quick and often absentminded.  He was an long distance beau, and I remember meeting up with him one summer holiday weekend.  I was so sweet on him, but my thoughts of him quickly began to sour.  He was constantly putting me down.  I wasn’t some emotional, needy, flighty gal.  He was just mean.  Most of the time, though, I don’t think he even realized it.  In fact, I think that’s how he communicated or just interacted with people.  Again, rash and unthinking. 

One day, when we were in the car, he put me down, and I decided that was enough.  “Tell me three good things about me,” I said.  I wasn’t going to let me get away with that behavior again.  He was stunned but obliged.  Took him a lot longer to think of three things than I wanted, but I decided I would give him grace.  Later that day, he put me down again, and I asked for another three compliments.  (I don’t know, tell me I’m pretty, smart, or funny.  Impress me with something deeper, like, remembering an article I wrote, applaud me for a poem I had sent you, tell me I have great taste in clothes or nice hips.  lol  Tell me you value me.)  I made him think of three new and different positives, and it seemed to come easier the second time.

We broke up not soon after.  I don’t remember who broke up or why.  I had a new beau by the end of summer anyhow.  I think of him time to time and hope he’s changed for his current relationship.  I pray he loves and values her.  I pray she seeks more from him than he will readily give. 

I thought of him this weekend because of my husband.  I don’t even remember what Mr. Bauer said to me, but it rubbed me the wrong way.  “Tell me three nice things about me,” I stated.  Thankfully, he answered more quickly than the former beau!  I wasn’t snotty or demanding; I explained I wanted to make sure we both knew I was loved and appreciated.  His tone wasn’t mean, and his words weren’t harsh.  However, it made something inside me make sure it wasn’t going further than that. 

My parents raised my sister and me to be strong women and stand up for what we believe it.  It is never okay for a man to mistreat us.  I pray I can pass the same thing on if I have a daughter some day.  Pray she’s strong.  I want my niece to be diligent in being giving and getting respect.  Hope every women who reads this blog is earnest in seeking to be heard and listened to, as well as, appreciated and loved.  Hope you men treat your gals with respect (and vice versa) so that your words won’t sting and hurt but bless and build.  Pray you all can raise amazing little girls that become amazing women, who- without trying to correct something misspoken- deserve to be complimented quickly in the first place.

Happy Monday, love, L

sort it out

I wish gossip tasted sweeter.  I mean, I love it, of course.  I shouldn’t, right?  That’s not very “Christian” of me, but it is true: my flesh can eat it up like candy.  Tonight I was fed some of the juiciest, sweetest gossip I had heard in a long time.  Yummy. 

But, it’s not sitting well with me.  A soulful indigestion, if you will.  Sure, in our sad, sorry, core we all want to “win” when we compare ourselves to our ex(es).  It is stupid, petty, and ridiculous, but we cannot help ourselves.  Tonight the gossip was about an ex of mine.  I admit: it felt good to hear (and I hope to share the details of it later), but, as I replay the words I heard, I actually feel sad for him.  Yes, my loser ex that has turned his life into disorder since we separated has my sympathies tonight, which brings me to this blog and my words of wisdom tonight: get help.

Get help when you get divorced and try not to rush into a new relationship.  When I first separated from my first husband, I shouldered the entire blame.  I took it all on and blamed myself completely, but, in truth, it wasn’t all me.  I needed time to sort through what was my fault and what was his.  I needed to find my way and figure things out.  I started seeing a counselor, too, because I didn’t want to make the same mistakes going into my next marriage.  Like this second marriage?  I found a man I respected and saw as my equal not less than me (yep, I use to be a wretch). 

My ex was in a serious relationship right before he met me.  He dated her through most of high school and into college.  He broke up with her to date me his senior year of college.  We were engaged and married within the year.  So, one serious relationship to another.  When he and I separated, he proposed to two women, and he married the second.  Mid-to-late spring, they met.  By summer, she was pregnant, and, before fall, they married.  I remember how sad I felt for them both when she previously admitted she wished they had known each other longer before getting seriously and that she likely would have never married him.  That breaks my heart.

I just feel bad for him for never truly “finding” himself.  I feel bad that he’s married twice and both women regretted being his wife.  What if he had sought help before jumping into the arms (and sack) of another woman?  Their lives have been filled with chaos since day one.  While I have snickered before and said they are made for each other, I wish they had better clarity before diving in to the life they have now. 

That’s some of my best advice after a serious relationship: to sort it out.  Figure out what happened and why and how to go forward.  Find peace with it ending.  Find peace with moving on.  I was blessed to change my life and heart- and come to Jesus!- and take my time finding love.  I found plenty of potential loves!  But, I took my time getting serious again and stepping into a big commitment.  Sort out your stuff so you can move on to bigger, and, hopefully, better things. 

Good night, L

like a boss

Have you ever played “I Never”?  It is a game I recall playing in high school at sleepovers or bachelorette parties and bridal shows.  I am not sure if they became racier or tamer as we all got older, though!  Anyway, the game is “I Never,” and each player holds out ten fingers or is given ten M&M’s.  Each player takes his or her turn confessing: “I never [FILL IN THE BLANK].”  Or, “Never have I ever _______.”  If the other players has done one of these never ever’s, that person puts a finger down or eats an M&M.  Thus, the person with the most fingers up or most candies left is the winner.

My go-to’s keep dwindling every year, though, it would seem.  You know, you get older, wiser, do more, and see more.  Tonight, I lost another one of my never have I ever’s: I broke my foot.  Or, rather, I fractured it.  Same thing.  However, the little fracture in my baby toe made it swell up and turn purple.  So hot, right?  How did I do it, too, you might ask?  Mad skills, baby.  I dropped my phone on it.  Ouch.  Blah.  It’s never something cool you’d see in the movies, right?  But it was a bit comical, I am sure.  While in my kitchen getting water from our filter, I received a text on my phone.  I tried to flip my phone to see who was texting me, and (apparently with great ferocity) I dropped my phone on my foot.  The right angle at the right time with the right speed.  Ouch, again.  I hunched over our counter, glass still in hand, and water filter still running, filling our kitchen floor.

When I “came to,” I stopped the waterfall.  I looked at my reddened toe and felt the throbbing.  I walked on it and teased my husband in a text that I thought I broke my toe.  He offered to rush home and take care of me, but I calmed him and told him it wasn’t necessary.  Because, well, it wasn’t.  Surely, I had only a minor injury.  Only, an hour later, it was twice the size it should be.  And, again, now purple.  Oh, and I couldn’t walk on it without crying.  The urgent care nurses and doctor were kind, but they could believe the damage was caused by a cell phone.  They kept asking me how heavy it was.  That’s when I knew: I have mad skills.  LOL  Yep, I broke my baby toe like a boss.  ‘Cause, you know, that’s how I roll *continuous laughter*

So, I am sore, and I am in pain.  And, I have a very stylish boot to wear, which, in all honesty, I would rather go without.  Yes, I am that vain in my core.  So, last year: never had I ever used crutches until I had knee surgery in November.  Before tonight, never had I ever had a broken bone.  At least I still have one left: never have I ever died my hair.  I said I wouldn’t die it until it goes gray, so I am praying that is not for another decade… or two.  Yes, definitely, two.  Maybe three.  *wink*

Sweet dreams and praying for whole bones for you!

Good night, love, L

p.s. I decided to spare you the pics ’cause I love you!  :-D

happily ever after

I am determined to make our master bedroom more “adult.”  Okay, clean up you mind.  Maybe, I think I mean romantic.  And, like some broke college kid doesn’t occupy it.  I want to, want to, want to buy a bedroom set, but my desire is conflicted by one thing: I am cheap.  I don’t like spending money.  I don’t like high priced items.  Yes, even typing that sends my heart racing.  *GULP* 

Two Christmases ago, we updated our bedding.  My parents gave us some holiday cash, and Kohl’s had huge discounts on their fall bedding.  Score!  We can think my parents for grown-up bedding.  Then, we bit the bullet and finally lifted the mattress off the floor with a sixty dollar-ish basic metal bed frame from JCP.  Movin’ on up!  Our big purchase came just a couple months ago when we bought an inexpensive pair of nightstands- under a hundred for both- YAY!  Baby steps.  Yes, baby steps are how I’m dragging encouraging our bedroom to look inviting. 

Now, I am at it again.  I have been researching dressers and headboards.  Not sure how soon we’ll get ‘em, but I am pricing.  I want the best and cheapest deal possible.  But, we have lived without a dress for two or three years now, so it’s not necessary.  Plus, it’s just a temporary thing in my mind.  No need to spend hundreds now.  The words “someday” and “when we’re older” are magic to my ears when I think about when we’ll buy that lusted-after bedroom set.  It can wait.

As I scroll through Pinterest ideas, I have become quite smitten with the “Mr. & Mrs.” and the “I am my Beloved’s” and “Happily Ever After” decals that grace themselves above beds of many.  And, I get stuck on one: Happy Ever After.  Oh, sorry, “and they lived happily ever after.”  I know many of us smirk at that saying.  We accuse Disney of having us buy into a line.  We are quit to point out that the wedding day isn’t the end.  We see movie after movie of boy meets girl, boy and girl fall in love, some miscommunication ensues and boy and girl are ripped apart only to be brought back together in the final scenes.  That’s where the story ends: with a happy ending.  Yet some become jaded when happily ever after doesn’t find them.  When the love story seems to be missing the ink to finish strong.  When the leading man or woman doesn’t seem to show up.  Or, worse, they do, and you find out the wrong person was cast!  ha  So, you resent the happily ever after and say it doesn’t exist.

I think about that happily ever after, and I realize one thing is true: it’s not a promise.  Just because you say “I do” doesn’t mean it’s all rainbows, roses, and sunsets with long walks on the beach.  No, happiness is a choice.  Plus, it’s doesn’t say “they lived perfectly ever after.”  I know I have fallen victim to thinking I picked the wrong man to marry when we had an argument.  I know I have doubted my decision when the road is rocky, and I’ve come unprepared.  But, I have a choice, and I can still choose happiness.  I can remember happily ever after isn’t perfect, but it makes me better.  I become a better wife, a more loving wife, a stronger woman, and a wiser believer.  Life is not perfect, but I was blessed to find love.  That is reason to choose happiness and live happily ever after, no matter what the storms may bring.

Wishing you happiness, love, L

oh, honey bear

When I was in a new starter relationship with my now-husband, I tried a rotation of nicknames for him.  Hottie Hotpants was the original, and it still appears time to time.  I also tried, Honey Bear, Honey Bunny, Baby, and Sweetie.  Surely, a few more as well.  But, Bear is what stuck, so he has been my Honey Bear for a few years now.  Bear, for short.  And, I have been his Bunny.  (Super cute and sugary sweet, right?).

In the last year, I have started answering my husband’s phone calls with a syrupy sweet, “HI, HONEY BEAR!”  I want to always eagerly receive his phone calls and have calling me be a joy in his day.  I do love having him call!

I remember it started one day when my (former) friend D told me about her and her husband.  She had nagged asked him to empty the dishwasher repeatedly.  When she called him later that morning, he answered, “I know, I know.  I should have emptied the dishwasher.  I am so sorry.  I forgot.”  What a crappy way for a husband to expect a call from his beloved!  She told me she called him specifically to discuss the dish situation.  Now, I know how the girl feels, but come on: it’s just the dishes!  Do you want to disrespect your husband and treat him like a child over dishes?!  I have a happy marriage, and I’d like to keep it that way.  So, from that day forward, I answered the phone with great expectations whenever my husband called, “HI, HONEY BEAR!”  Sweetness, adoration, and love just oozes through the phone.

There was one awkward instance last year with my phone answering.  Unbeknownst to me, my husband got very sick at work.  His co-worker called me from Joseph’s office.  The phone rang, and I jumped to answer it, “HI, HONEY BEAR!!!”  The other line said, “Ummm…  This isn’t Honey Bear.  This is C…”  At the time, I admit it: I was mortified!  Oh-emm-gee moment, if you will.  I think I may have shrunk that day.  Later, though, I thought: I am glad I answered the phone with love.  I am glad I look forward to my husband’s calls.  It would have been awkward if I talked provocatively to him.  Or, more awkward: scolded the expected husband through the phone.  Yikes.  That would have been an uncomfortable call.  And, I wondered later: I wonder if C went home to his wife asking her why she didn’t greet him overjoyed?  He knew marveled at my dear Bear.  That what most men want most.

Today, I absentmindedly answered the phone.  Oops.  “Hello,” I said.

“What’s wrong?” my dear Bear asked.

“Nothing.  Just working.  Why?”

“You’re suppose to call me Honey Bear,” he lamented.  “That’s how I know you love me and that everything’s okay.  And that you are not mad!”

I smiled, “Sorry, Bear…  Hi, Honey BEAR!  So glad you called!”

When Honey Bear’s happy, everyone’s happy.  So, I’ll keep pouring sugar through my phone every time he calls.

Hope you keep your marriage sweet, too.  Love, L

 

quick wit

A friend of ours recently admitted to my husband that he is a “Greek in a Moroccan body.”

I laughed, of course.  And, without missing a step, I asked my husband, “Did you tell him you’re a Jew in a rockin’ body?”

Always think highly of your spouse, and treat him as such.  All of us have insecurities, even our strong men.  So be sure to be in the habit of building him up and not tearing him down.  Adore the man you married- I do!  He may think it corny, but he will appreciate it.  He does!!

 

 

his and hers

I use to love everything “His” and “Hers”- so cute for newlyweds, right?  Or, throughout marriage?  The embroidered towels, the fancy pillows, and name plates on closet doors.  Yes, I was a big fan of his & hers in my twenties.  Things have changed.  And, you’re gonna think I’m crazy, but I am not a fan.  And, I think it’s divisive.  Insert your eye rolling now, but I’ll explain.

I like the thought of “Ours.”  I am still getting use to the fact that my “husband’s” laptop is actually “mine” or “ours.”  Joseph bought the laptop I’m typing on over five years ago.  Actually, he bought it the week we met (awww).  I actually thought of mocking him for keeping it in the original box.  (What a nerd!  Traveling around with the purchase box!)  It’s a good laugh between us now.  Oh, yeah, back to the story…  It’s just so ingrained in us to remember what was his and hers before we entered into marriage.  Even married, there are books I bought and games he’s bought that I have to remind myself are all ours.

The majority of fights my husband and I have- and I think I’ve mentioned this before- are when I don’t feel like we’re a team.  Team Bauer.  That’s what I signed up for.  So, when he disregards my insight or makes large decisions without my wise counsel (*snicker*), I am usually more upset that my opinion wasn’t counted for than the decision itself.  I want to feel loved and valued in my marriage.  I don’t like when I feel like he’s in single-guy-mode and making big decisions with me.  Sure, end of the day, I am usually a submissive wife and agree in my house that his-word-goes, but I at least appreciate when I am appreciated.  He’s getting better at listening to me, too, after seeing I am not “against him” but for us and our future.

So, why would I have an array of his & hers things?  Divorce, at its core, is a dividing of assets.  I guess having things labeled makes it easier?  If you love and have his & hers items, feel free to keep loving them!  I just implore you to think of not labeling your items, cute and innocent as it may seem, but have them (labeled or not) be “ours.”  Focus on filing your homes with items you both love or represent your relationship.  Work on keeping your union strong and satisfying.  Be content on the items you own as a Team.

Happy Saturday,
Laura

quick hello

Good morning!  No, I don’t usually check in on Tuesdays, and, yes, I have missed a couple of posts.  What do they say about good intentions???  I had them in regards to letting you know I’d be off for a few days.  The hubbie and I took “the plunge” and did a Disney World trip and got back last night.  I hope to list my pro’s and con’s later, but I’ll share a few pics right now…

 

photo 1

SPOILER for the underage…  You know, I know there is a human, likely a teenager, dressed in these costumes.  But, I was elated when Tigger waved at me!!!  Yes, Disney has the ability to bring out the four year old in all of us.  This pic was after hours of being soaked in rain and while we were deciding what to do next.  FYI- chilling out in sweats at the hotel won!

 

photo 2

I got a GREAT deal staying at the Disney Dolphin.  Advice: Price varies throughout the year, so get to know what’s a good deal and what’s not.  And, two: buy through Expedia.  Yeah, I know a lot of people like a lot of sites, but Expedia’s my fave.  I love the look of their website and the ease of navigation.  Plus, you often get your hotel “free” (okay, discounted) if you stay at least three nights and book it with your flight.  That’s how I save the most money planning our trips.

 

photo 3

Me and Mr. Bauer!  Near the end of our day and end of our trip, I thought, hmmm….  We don’t have any photos of us?!?!  lol  Actually, we didn’t take nearly as many photos as we normally do, so I took this one.  We took this pic after dinner at the Tusker House (amazing, we love it- our one true splurge dinner every time we go) and an unfruitful quest to find the sea otters (who are apparently on holiday while Disney’s Animal Kingdom has some updates) yet minutes before a torrential downpour.  It was sprinkling on our way to the buses and was pouring not a minute after we hoped on.  WHEW!  We couldn’t wait to spend the night in getting warm!

 

photo

Our scores on Buzz Lightyear’s ride in Disney’s Magic Kingdom.  Mine is on the left; Joseph’s on the right.  This will (most likely, and I would bet on it) NEVER. HAPPEN. AGAIN.  Totally.  By sheer luck (’cause I, honestly, don’t know what I’m doing), got a point-loaded target in the first few seconds.  So, I took a pic of my score.  Seriously, I just pulled up last time’s score: he got 470,500!  And, 578,999 that same weekend!  Another time, I got 103,900, and he got 338,000.  Hmmm…  maybe his “gun” wasn’t working, or, maybe, he threw the game.  But, I had to get a shot of the moment I beat my gaming husband playing a game.  Yes, we are still happily married!  *SMILE*

Hope you enjoyed a few pics.  More stories soon, love, L

something nice to say

I am not a huge fan of Facebook.  I have an account.  I check it almost daily.  But, I am not a fan.  It is good to check up on friends and family and see photos of my niece and nephews, but I don’t care for it overall.  I am a cheerleader at heart.  I feel like I should “Like” every post, comment on numerous statuses, and be a kind and uplifting person.  However, not everyone uses the site for encouraging words and posts.

I get so sick of the self-indulgent selfies of my thirty-something friends.  Yes, it works occasionally.  No, I don’t want to see them daily.  I feel bad, too- how much affirmation does one person need in a week from outside sources?  Oh, and some of the pics people post.  Oy vey.  Honestly, do you not realize it’s unflattering?  And, not every photo you take of your sweet little angel needs to be uploaded.  Not every photo is a good one, and no one has the time to comment through three hundred pics.  That goes for your vacation, too.  I am happy for you and excited for you, but I need a week off from work to look through the thousands of pics you’ve posted.  Please, upload a couple a day or maybe a dozen to an album.  Any more is overkill.

Today, as I skimmed and commented in usual fashion, I scrolled to a post that I didn’t know what to say.  I retorted less than kind remarks in my mind.  Hmmm…  I should be kind, but then my thoughts sounded passive aggressive.  Yeah, they were.  I debated and deliberated in my mind then remembered some age-old truth: “if you don’t have something nice to say, don’t say anything at all.”  So, I didn’t say anything.  I figured I could come back later with a kinder heart and kinder response.  They’d be none the wiser, but I displayed wisdom.  One less fight over Facebook?  It’s a win for everyone.

Sweet dreams and good night, L