Prayers and Pictures

Heavenly Father, as I come to you tonight, I feel like I don't have anything else to give. Although I didn't have the normal twenty seven kids competing for my time today, my own kids have lobbed emotional grenades at me today that I simply could not have prepared for. I am so thankful for your constant balm on their wounded hearts (and mine). I pray now for their future spouses, that You would be the center of their marriages and that their children would be protected from the hurt they've known through divorce. Father, I also come to you in an attitude of complete thanksgiving. While my faith was little, you had plans for my future that were incomprehensible. I still stand in awe of the gift you've given our family in Ray. His calm nature and unblemished integrity provide a foundation which has steadied this whole family. Father, I'm laying today's heartbreaks and trials at your feet. Thank you for your grace and the strength that you offer us on a daily (and nanosecond) basis. Amen.

This week in pictures...

Brotherly love

Reading her first book

This was after her first REAL dentist visit where they actually tried to clean her teeth. Moments before this photo, she looked more like a Tasmanian Devil! They even put us in the special room with the door that closed to conceal the screaming!

Intermission at The Rockettes - She was the entertainment.

Everyone was on their "Mama will KILL you if you act crazy" behavior - including the big kid!

Pastor Aaron talking with the kids on Sunday morning.

The girls were up to something!

 

Happy birthday, Grandma!

 

By child #3, sitting on the floor in a restaurant and using your phone is a way to maintain your sanity and that of those around you, as well. Who knew that she was snapping photos of relative's legs?

 

Taking Ray to the airport for a Salesforce.com trip to San Francisco. We toyed with the thought of making it an escape week and I'd go along... but... I have this thing called a job and the week before Thanksgiving break isn't the most opportune time to go AWOL!

Annie is getting ready for her first ballet recital.

Car line commentary - I absolutely LOVE mornings when I can drop the kids off at school. You just never know where the conversation will end up with Annie!

Annie's Thanksgiving Feast - She was the pilgrim in the back row who cried through all four songs!

Pouty Pilgrim wanted her daddy.

Thank goodness, a little turkey and mac n cheese turned her frown upside down!

Finally, a picture of the pilgrim with a smile!

Annie's new favorite - Where's Waldo. These darn books are worse than the I Spy ones or even the Dr. Seuss ones that seem to go on forever! However, Annie is sort of a Waldo freak and can find him faster than I can. I admit to Googling the solution to one page because I was thinking about ripping the page out since I couldn't find him myself!

 And that, my friends, is the photo update for the last week. I know you can all sleep more peacefully knowing that our sanity is still shaky!

Good night, all!

 

The Pioneer Woman as played by... ME!

Well, as most of you know, I've absolutely never claimed to be any sort of domestic diva. In fact, there are some days that I just pray that my domestic skills don't kill or permanently scar someone! So, I'm always on the lookout for cooking blogs and recipes. As a general rule, I like to find recipes which incorporate whole foods and look like something Emeril or Martha whipped up, but are pretty dummy proof. I thought that I'd found the jackpot a few years ago when Ree Drummond came onto the scene. She wrote with humor, and understood the necessity for serving real food on a somewhat reasonable budget. As Ree became more popular though, her blog got fancier and the photos that accompanied her recipes got more elaborate. And... The Pioneer Woman was born. She had her own Food Network show and lots of other fancies. I've continued to follow her blog and snatch her recipes, but I do shake my head as I look at the background of those photos at her fancy schmancy kitchen. Anyone could cook a perfect meal if they had a million dollar kitchen - right? So... here's what I decided to do. In order to justify my crappy cooking skills and inform Ray that I'll never be able to be anything more than an average sous chef without a million dollar kitchen, I've recreated one of the Pioneer Woman's recipes for your viewing pleasure.

Today, my friends, we're going to make Potato Soup. I think that Pioneer Lady calls it PERFECT Potato Soup. However, my version is called Practical Potato Soup.

Let me start by thieving the ingredients for this straight from Pioneer's site... I added my own comments in italics.

6 slices Thin Bacon, Cut Into 1-inch Pieces (Am I really going to COUNT the pieces)?

1 whole Medium Onion, Diced (Medium is definitely a relative term)

3 whole Carrots, Scrubbed Clean And Diced (Or, just buy a bag where the little boogers are already cut).

3 stalks Celery, Diced (Lovingly chopped is just about as much love as celery is going to get from me).

6 whole Small Russet Potatoes, Peeled And Diced (once again, small is relative)

8 cups Low Sodium Chicken Or Vegetable Broth

3 Tablespoons All-purpose Flour (I'm not going to dirty up a tablespoon just to measure flour)

1 cup Milk

1/2 cup Heavy Cream

1/2 teaspoon Salt, More To Taste

Black Pepper To Taste

1/2 teaspoon Cajun Spice Mix (What? There's nothing in my cupboard that says Cajun Spice Mix).

1 teaspoon Minced Fresh Parsley  (Once again, the parsley in the little jar on the spice rack does NOT say fresh or minced).

1 cup Grated Cheese Of Your Choice

Now... Moving on to the actual directions. Here's how you're going to put all of this together. Or, should I say, "Here's how I would put all of these ingredients together?"

Bacon. This is like the flute that the Pied Piper used to lead the children out of the city. The smell of bacon will make the wiliest child come out of their hiding place and put their iPhone down. So, chop up whatever bacon comes in the package. The recipe calls for six slices, but what are you going to do with leftover raw bacon? I don't cook breakfast, so it's just going to get shoved to the back of the fridge and turn unnatural colors and emit nasty smells. So, just cook the whole darn package.

Notice that I don't have some fancy high dollar pot to cook the bacon in. I have an IKEA wok! Yes, a wok! Don't judge me. The bacon got cooked to a perfect crunchiness.

Um, I also don't have a fancy lid for my fancy IKEA pot, either. Someone (I won't call names) dropped the lid while loading the dishwasher and it burst into a gazillion pieces. So, after choosing this pot as my vat of choice, I realized that if I didn't cover it, I was going to actually have to clean the whole stove area and rid it of spattered bacon grease. So... I used the biggest bowl I own to cover it all up! I'm so dang smart! See? I should get extra Martha Stewart points on my chart for being able to be successful against all odds!

Seriously? I'm glad I cooked the whole dang package. That stuff shrivels up to absolutely nothing. It's sort of like a teacher's paycheck!

Then, you'll need to chop up the onion. This should be pretty simple, but when there's a four year old calling for you to fix the computer because ABC Mouse won't let her color the right picture, even chopping an onion can take a while.

Then, there's the celery. Did you know that they make Biggest Loser celery? I don't care if they put a picture of SpongeBob on this stuff, I can't stand it. I like it even less with the skinny Nazis on the front of it. I should have sat the bacon right next to the trio and let them inhale the fumes.

Then, there's the carrots. Pioneer Woman wants you to use real carrots like the Easter Bunny carries around. She wants you to clean (scrub) them and chop them. Whatever. Just buy a bag where they've already done that for you. Duh!

 So, maybe I should have bought the shredded carrots instead of the chips. I still had to chop those suckers up and they were really hard. Every time I sliced through them, they went flying everywhere. It's recipes like this that make me miss having a dog who'd sit at the edge of the kitchen and wait for anything to hit the floor! Anyway, just get the dumb carrots into bite sized pieces.

 

So, you've now got the onions, celery, and carrots all chopped up into nice little pieces. Then, you'll dump all of that back into the wok that you didn't clean out thoroughly so that the bacon grease will coat the outside of those crunchy little veggies and negate every single nutrient in them. Please take note to be very careful when you initially pour the majority of the bacon grease out of the pan, though. Even the tiniest little dribble of grease on a tile floor will wreak major havoc. Oops.

Then, there's the potatoes. Once again, I'm not showing off any high prices cooking pieces. The colander shown in this picture has been used as a hat and a drum multiple times, but it still gets the job done! The recipe calls for six small potatoes. Ok. Who gets to choose what "small" looks like? I knew that I was going to be feeding a big crew, so I just washed the whole bag. Seriously? What are you going to do with one or two leftover potatoes? They end up sitting in the bottom of the cupboard, sprouting enough eyes to be classified as a martian, and then they start to ooze and smell like a science project gone bad.

I thought the easiest way to take care of the potatoes would be to use the vegetable peeler to de-peel the potatoes. However, the peeler was MIA. What's the next best thing? A husband, of course! Ray ended up on KP duty (killing potatoes).

Most times, when Pioneer Fancy Pants chops her veggies, they come out in very uniform shapes. Who cares! My potato chunks might not be uniform, but I can spell with them! I bet Ree has never pulled that sort of edible intelligence off before! Ha!

After you have all of the potatoes chopped up, you throw those in with the bacon grease coated veggies. Do you still call them veggies when they're coated in pig fat? Anyway, you throw in some salt and pepper, too. Fancy Pants gives exact measurements, but I'm not going to dirty up a teaspoon just to measure salt. I just throw some into the pot and hope for the best. (This is normally the attitude that keeps my cooking out of any kind of high class competitions).

I think I should even get extra points for creativity for throwing in a spice that wasn't mentioned in Pioneer's original list. I don't know where I got this stuff, but you can throw it in anything. The original recipe calls for Cajun Spices, but there's nothing in my spice rack that says, "Cajun," so I just figured that this might kick it up a notch - BAM! Or not.

Then, after you've let everything sizzle for a while in your handy dandy wok, you pour in some chicken broth (or stock, if you're illiterate and think the words stock and broth look alike). Ree Ree's recipe calls for 8 cups. In alignment with my illiterate status, I also got an F in mathematics for this recipe. Eight cups would equate to 64 ounces since 8X8=64. Yes, I'm a 3rd grade teacher, and I know my multiplication facts. However, as you can see, this box of stock only had 32 ounces in it. Duh! Did I mention that while I was trying to solve my mathematical dilemma, Dasha was sitting at the table trying to complete a worksheet about elements and Annie had given up on the computer and was now watching Dora in the background? Please take note that Prissy Pioneer never has those sorts of distractions in the background. Once again, I'm giving myself some bonus points!

I dug around in the cabinet and discovered that I did have another box of chicken broth... oh, wait. That's what I was supposed to use to start with . Dang. Anyway, I was too lazy to measure out an exact amount to make exactly eight cups, so I just tossed the whole darn thing in. Like I said, I knew that I would be feeding a lot of people, so the more the better. Right?

This is what it looked like. Oh, did I mention that I moved the whole concoction out of the wok and into a stock pot? Once again, this stock pot has served as an awesome percussion instrument and seems pretty indestructible.

 

Since this meal was actually intended to be eaten the next day, I figured that this would be a good stopping point. I lidded the whole thing and put it in the fridge. I don't have the luxury of one of those nice big fridges that you could hide dead bodies in, so I had to rearrange the entire contents of the fridge prior to being able to stash the pot. More points for me.

On day two, after a long day at work, I heated the "soup" back up and then used an immersion blender to hack up some of the potato chunks. Pioneer's directions called for removing 2/3 of the "mixture" and blending it and then returning it to the pot. No way! I was not going to pour burning hot soup out of a huge pot into a tiny blender only to return the whole mess back to the original pot. That's stupid! That 2/3 that I removed would probably end up being about one cup after all of the spillage I'd have. So, the immersion blender worked out well for my laziness. Please note that while this was all going on, I was trying to dress Annie for ballet. Do you know how hard it is to get a leotard on a wiggly kid? And getting the tights on? Ha! If we made folks successfully get a pair of fragile tights on a ticked off toddler prior to allowing them to reproduce, we'd prevent a lot of folks with anger management issues from reproducing. Wow. That was really off topic.

So, next, you mix some flour and milk together so it looks sort of like pancake batter (or milk that's been held captive in a sippy cup under the car seat for a few weeks). Once again, measuring simply dirties up more dishes. This is where judgement and common sense (or lack of) comes into play.

Then, you add this stuff. The recipe only calls for 1/2 cup, but, I don't want to be wasteful and I know that the remainder of this tiny little carton will get shoved to the back of the fridge and mutate. So, I just dumped the whole thing in. Pioneer Princess can't ever say that I'm wasteful.

Finally, you get something that looks like this. I didn't have any time to lovingly ladle this into pretty bowls and garnish it. Maybe Pioneer's family appreciates that sort of frivolity, but my crew would think I'd lost my mind if I served them something that looked pretty.

 

So, that's how this whole Practical Potato Soup works. I don't have fancy granite counter tops to sparkle in the background of the photos. I have good old laminate stuff that covers particle board below to provide adequate counter surfaces. I also don't have mega-dollar appliances or cooking ware. However, I do manage to cook dinner without killing anyone - usually - just ignore that earlier comment about dead bodies in the fridge.

 

But, if that wasn't enough for you, and you need to feel even better about your cooking skills, here's what happens when I'm not "on camera."

 

I saw this great thing on Pinterest about budget dinners for the slow cooker. I'm not a fan of dark meat of any kind, but I thought I'd give this a try after seeing a bag of chicken drumsticks at BJs that would feed all of the third world nations for only $10. I thought I could easily skin them (the drumsticks - not the third world countries) and then toss them in the pot. Ha! Do you know how hard it is to skin drumsticks? I was gagging with every slimy tug. I lost count of how many drumsticks hit the floor or went flying out of my hands as I tried to take that nasty skin off. Ugh. After a few unsuccessful strategies to take the stuff off, I threw them in the pot with the skin on. Oh well.

 

I dumped the BBQ sauce right over them just like the directions said. I clapped the lid down over those nasty things, turned the cooker to low, and left for work.

 In the words of Brittany, "Oops, I did it again."

 

So, you can see why I feel compelled to search out worthy recipes and things that I can cook without causing too much damage. I guess I'll continue to follow Princess Pioneer to get some good ideas. However, if we were to ever be put toe-to-toe in an everyday person's kitchen, I think I could take her.

 

 

Good night, all.

 

Oh, here's the link if you want to check out this Perfect Pioneer for yourself...

http://thepioneerwoman.com/

 

 

Forfeiting Your Peace (and sanity)

forfeit: something to which the right is lost, as for commission of a crime or misdeed, neglect of duty, or violation of a contract.

 

 

I'm not exactly sure how this is going to turn out. I'm just giving you an honest heads-up. I have so many blog topics romping around in my head like ginormous hippos that have sprouted wings and can manage to get just enough momentum to take a flying leap. Ok. That was weird. I'm glad we got that image out there. Anyway... tomorrow will mark four months since Ray and I tied the knot and he publicly committed himself to this funny farm. Some days, I'm still in shock that I'm married. (I'll always be in shock that I'm a mom and actually responsible for other human beings). If someone had told me a year ago that I'd be livin' la vida loca with Prince Charming, I would have laughed in their face (politely, of course). I won't lie. The transition has had quite a learning curve. No. Correction. This journey has had learning booby traps. (Go ahead and laugh. I giggle on the inside every time someone says, "Booby trap!)" Yeah... this is why I work with 3rd graders! Learning to live as a married couple with three ever-present chicken nuggets is difficult. Privacy is non-existent and, despite the "Do Not Disturb" sign that Ray thieved from Best Western and hung on the door, Annie can't read so she just flings the door open with no regard for the counseling that it might take to undo what she sees! (Clorox is on aisle three if you'd like to delete that whole thought from your brain, as well). And, those conversations or explanations that would be nice to have at the onset of an issue (i.e. me getting angry because I assumed that he assumed that I'd have dinner on the table prior to his arrival) just can't be aired in an efficient manner with three kids bounding around or calling for their fanny to be wiped, homework questions regarding elements to be answered, or questions about the purpose of reading a particular boring book for lit / comp are being fired like buck shot! As I said in my previous post, the potential for explosion is exponential.

 

Many times, I feel like I'm being pulled in several different directions and Ray feels like he's helpless. He would absolutely do anything possible to be helpful. (This does not include using throwing knives with Grant INSIDE or having a full out WWW match in the middle of the bedroom). But, there are some things that he just doesn't feel comfortable doing yet. For example, Dasha has had several doctor's visits lately. He would have been more than happy to take her, but he didn't know how to fill out the paperwork or her medical history. It's sort of hard to fill out her birth history when we don't know it. Many doctor's will question your reason for writing UNKNOWN across that section and then you have to go into the details of adoptions. I'll admit that I've thought about telling them that child birth was so wretched that I had to be completed knocked out and I just didn't remember any of the details. But, these kinds of things are hard for Ray to step in to handle. Discipline is the other area that has been somewhat of a tightrope act. While I'd sort of gone with the mantra of survival of the fittest over the last few years, Ray would like to see the kids have some sort of behavior expectations. Don't get me wrong, I'm in complete agreement, but I created a three-headed monster with my lack of firm boundaries. Now, if you know my kids, you know that they are relatively good kids when they are in public. They know that as an educator, my kids need to look the part of well-behaved and polite children (or else). However, behind the asylum doors, they had grown accustomed to doing what they wanted, whining to get what they wanted, and basically being my equals. Ray didn't want to come in and play "bad cop." So, we had to have some time to come up with expectations and consequences. However, it was sort of like trying to draw out new plays in the play book while we were in the middle of the big game! My point? While the last four months have been incredible, there have definitely been some bumps.

 

One of the biggest bumps that I keep stumbling over, though, is myself. By nature, I'm a people pleaser. I've spent much of my life doing what I thought others expected of me. Most times, those expectations were never even real.  Believe it or not, the lack of Ray's expectations is what has continued to stump me. I'd never really realized it, but who I thought I was had been based on others' expectations. I was a creation of the person I thought my parents wanted me to be. What Eric had wanted. What my bosses expected. And, what the church implied was right for a "good girl." I'd been stuffed so full of expectations that I'd never really figured out the real me. Now, I did get a little bit of a crash course in Me 101 after Eric left. But, what I'd done was fill the void left by his removed expectations with others' expectations. Am I making any sense to anyone? It's so hard to type out matters of the heart. On the outside, I was playing a really good game. On the inside, I was trying to figure out who I was. There were a few things that I was sure of during that crazy time - my relationship with Christ, the need to protect my kids, and the knowledge that I couldn't continue to be Superwoman.

 

Over the last few years, I've started figuring out who the real me is. I've done quite a bit of figuring. It's not easy to engage in self-discovery with three kids in tow. Dating is also another thing that really isn't a great thing to engage in while you are in a discovery phase. I think this is the phase that most kids go through while they are away at college and during those early adult years. I never went away for college. I went straight from living at home to being a wife, and not too long after that, a mother. I simply never went through that phase of life. I feel like I'm rambling and getting miles away from my point. My point... oh yeah, I'm still doing lots of self-discovery when it comes to being a wife. Thank goodness, Ray is also doing the same thing when it comes to being husband. We are figuring things out together.

  

Ok. I'm going to leave that last paragraph, although, I feel like it's part of of song, "One of these things just doesn't belong here... One of these things is doing their own thing..." For some reason, it's important to me to leave that piece of my heart on the table. So... I'll leave it there. Weird.

 

But, I am going to get back to the whole point of this. For years, I'd heard pastors talk about the Enemy stealing your peace. I went through a time of believing that my peace had been stolen. However, as I learn to operate on a plane without expectations from worldly influences, I realize that I forfeited my peace. It wasn't stolen. I never doubted my relationship with Christ, but I sure made the choice to step away from the promises of peace that He gave to me. I always think about the song by Scott Krippayne that talks about Him calming the storm sometimes, but other times, He calms His child. The peace was always there. For some reason, it was just easier for me to writhe my hands, worry, and forfeit my peace.

Well, that really wasn't where I'd planned to go with this rant, but... I'm learning to stop planning every single detail and leave some room for Him to work. Is that easy for me? Heck, no!

Let me wrap this up before the girls end up getting high on the Sharpie fumes that they are currently breathing. (Hey, they got all excited and started pretending to cooperate and love each other when I let them play with the Sharpies! Don't judge... At least I didn't turn the TV on... Oh, never mind. They turned it on by themselves). The point that I was trying to veer back around to was that while the last four months have held incredible bliss and a new found freedom in being a wife without worrying too much about others' expectations, there have been some moments where I've basically had to perform open heart surgery on myself while Ray and the kids stood by watching. It's so much easier to fix other people than deal with your own issues. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know.

"Why do you see the speck in your brother's eye but fail to notice the beam in your own eye?" Matthew 7:3

The mischievous side of me wonders what sorts of beams Dr. Phil might have lodged in his own eye. Geez. See? That was completed ridiculous. My ADD is kicking in and I'm having a hard time not chasing squirrels. I'm out of blogging practice!

Must. Get. To. The. Point... As I begin living a life full of knowing who I really am, my dreams for the future are becoming more vivid and I'm not fearful of the open doors that are lining the hallways. I've spent the last several years making excuses for not stepping through those open doors. Now, although it scares the stuffing out of me, I'm ready.

Marriage to Ray has been both the easiest and hardest thing that I've ever done! To fall asleep at night (after elbowing a snoring giant multiple times) in the arms of a man who loves me despite my lack of domestic skills and continues to tell me that he loves my heart and could care less about anything else, is freeing. While some of you might laugh and say, "Give it a year and the honeymoon will end." Well, go ahead and say what you want. I'll leave it at that... Marriage has also brought growing pains and recognition of many bruises, scars, and gaping wounds left from my past. However, for anyone who knows anything about medical issues (um, not me, but I'm going to pretend to be knowledgable since I slept at a Holiday Inn Express once - remember that commerical?), you know that for any wound to heal, it must be cleaned out before it can be properly bandaged. And, healing will never come to a wound that is infected. Well, it's not a walk in the park to have those wounds cleaned out. It hurts. It can be maddening. At moments, it can be so painful that you wonder if the cleansing is worth it. However, in the hands of the ultimate Healer and with my husband's gentle touch, I will continue to hold on to the peace that passes all understanding and won't forfeit it.

"And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus." Philippians 4:7

Somewhere between once upon a time and happily ever after...

OK. So... My mission for the last two months has been to post a blog entry. Obviously, this was my Mission Impossible and Tom Cruise did not intervene and pull a miracle - until tonight. The boys are out of town on a camping tour of duty and mom decided to host Keep the Kritters night and took BOTH girls. Part of me is anxiously awaiting the phone call to move out for a rescue mission and pick up a homesick Annie. Part of me is anxiously awaiting the scene that I'll find in the morning when I pick the girls up. Remember that scene from The Cat in the Hat movie where Thing 1 and Thing 2 hang the babysitter up in the closet? Yeah, that's sort of what I expect to find. My point? It's midnight and I'm sitting here communing with Clairol (actually, it's Feria because I've moved up in the world) and I figured this would be the perfect time to post this entry. If you've ever colored your own hair, you know that you're sort of limited on the activities you can perform while the chemicals eat at your brain.

At this point, I'm not sure where to even start. Let me just go back to the Genesis of this whole new chapter and introduce you to Ray. (I feel sort of like I'm the announcer for that weird dating game). Anyway, the first thing that attracted me to Ray was his incredible ability to NOT get his knickers in a knot. I'm convinced that an alien space ship could land in the front yard, use a laser beam to saw his arm off, and he wouldn't ever raise his voice. Can you just imagine what this sort of stability brings into the asylum? His patience and even temper is like an anchor that holds everyone down. He's sort of like the internal gravity in the house these days! Now, while he might have untold amounts of patience, grace, and understanding, he will not hesitate to go completely Terminator on anyone who messes with his family. After a few rough days at work, I began to wonder if I was about to find myself in that scene from Lampoon's Christmas Vacation where cousin Eddie takes off in the RV to nab the boss who enrolled everyone in the Jelly of the Month club. Hmmmm.... The thought of the boss man with a bow on his head in my living room... OK. Moving on. Ray's intelligence is the other thing that I'm actually still trying to adjust to. He is a certifiable genius (not kidding) and knows everything about everything. He's taught everything from wilderness survival in the Adirondacks to classes on how to have an effective ministry. He works in the marketing field (sort of kind of) but he deals with software all day long that probably could take over the world. I'll admit that his intelligence still sort of intimidates me. I'm used to being the smarty pants. I'm not used to having someone around who knows more than I do. It can be quite humbling sometimes when I'm trying to BS my way out of something! I always get caught! It's in those moments that I resort to name calling and lovingly call him, "Monk." Beyond his intellectual prowess, his faith and integrity sealed the deal. He simply does NOT see gray. It's either right or wrong. You can imagine what a soothing balm this characteristic was to my wounded heart. And his faith... it simply defines everything he does and every single part of who he is. He doesn't find his worth in the brand of car he drives, the organizations he belongs to, or even in the clothes he wears (ok - there have been a few skirmishes on this topic of bachelor clothing vs. married man clothing, but we're finding compromises). He is a man who fully relies on Christ and doesn't seek things of the world to define him. Once again, this characteristic has opened so many doors for communication between us. I could do an entire post on how this one simple characteristic makes marriage wonderful. The bottom line of this whole "Meet Ray" session is that he exhibits characteristics that I was too faithless to ever ask God to provide in another spouse. In fact, I'd basically told God that I'd prefer to be a single crazy cat lady for the rest of my days than endure a marriage full of compromises. Ha. As usual, oh me of little faith...

So, now that you sort of know the players in this whole show, I can better answer the question that everyone is asking, "How's married life?" Well, married life is very different the second time around. Have you ever met someone who thinks having a baby will save their marriage or having a newer house or car will solve their problems? Let me just say that marrying for a second time does not heal wounds from the first marriage. In fact, it magnifies those wounds. So, if you marry someone who'd rather cover up those wounds that keep surfacing because it makes him uncomfortable or someone who wants to simply slap a Band-Aid on the wound and not tend to the scars that might be left behind, you'd better get ready for another round of divorce court. (Was that Judge Judy or Judge Wapner)? But, seriously folks. The danger of wiping out the second time around is huge. I didn't have any idea how warped my view of marriage had become due to hundreds of factors. Ray spent the first several weeks looking like he was practicing for tornado drills and ducking and covering as I realized how many hurts I still had. He would do one inconsequential thing that would set up a domino effect in me and I would end up pulling back into my shell like a turtle. After a few rounds of this horrible "game," Ray started braving my mood swings and calling me out for not telling him about the landmines that were being triggered throughout my heart and soul. And let me just tell you that some of the triggers were completely ridiculous! One night, I saw a FB message alert pop up on his phone from a girl. For an entire day, I brewed and stewed over it. By the next day, I'd let my imagination run wild and I had crafted quite a tale of what I thought was going on. Oddly enough, he happened to mention the message the next day and it was something completely innocent. But, those wounds of being left for another woman are still there. Yes, they are scabbing over and beginning to heal, but the slightest bump can scape part of the scab away to reveal the raw emotion underneath. There have been many incidents like this that serve as a reminder that I'm simply still under construction. Time and time again, I've put Ray to the test. And time and time again, he has scooped me up, gooped me up with Neosporin, and lovingly bandaged my wounds. But, he commits to memory every single wound that he finds and continues to exude nothing but gentleness when he's close to those areas. Like I said, without a spouse who's willing to work through all of the unknown hurt and bitterness that bubbles up without warning in response to the strangest things, there's no hope for a second marriage.

Obviously, Ray treats me like a princess, but he extends the same sort of love for the kids, as well. The learning curve was pretty steep when it came to trying to squish everyone into a nice neat family mold, so we just didn't even try. Ray and I talked at length (for hours and hours) about how we'd parent / control / outsmart the kids. Basically, I had to admit that I'd been way too lackadaisical when it came to behavior. For the last several years, I'd simply tried to keep the peace and make sure that everyone was fed, clothed, and semi-emotionally stable. I think this is the plight of most single moms. It's simply called survival! But, Ray began to point out areas which he felt like might need some improvement. (Have I mentioned that I don't take constructive criticism well)? He felt like Annie should probably sit in her seat at the dinner table instead of sitting on the table or standing in her chair. He felt like Grant should do something more than carry his phone from his room to the table and back again. And, he was convinced that Dasha simply needed some security and stability. This is where we started. I led and he followed. We did that for a while. Once the kids understood that he would not snap and start yelling and that his patience was basically never ending (except in the case of disrespect), the kids started looking to him for approval. Ok. I'm going to admit that I don't know how people "blend" families. This is hard enough with three related kids. I can't imagine doing this whole blending thingy with two different sets of kids. I have nothing but complete respect for families who pull it off effectively! But, we recognize that this is a process that's going to take months and probably years, so we just stay in communication with each other and continue to look for signs that they're about to stage a mutiny. It's nice to have someone to watch my back now.

Beyond the issues of changing the people dynamics within the house, we've had quite an interesting time with the day to day things, as well. Remember, Ray hasn't had kids. He's spent plenty of time with his nieces and nephews, but he's never had to get a crew of them dressed and out of the house by 6:20 a.m. He actually gave me a hard time about laying everyone's clothes out at night. After several weeks of school, I think he understands now. Poor guy. He also didn't care for me laying his clothes out, and he was even less thrilled about me ironing them. His theory was that permanent press simply meant that after a few hours of body heat, the wrinkles in the clothes would fall out. So, basically, he'd be wrinkle free by 10:00 a.m. each morning. Um, yeah... In his defense, I simply can't imagine how overwhelming this transition has been for him. He was used to going home to his cat. Now, he comes home to a cage full of apes! He ate when he was hungry. He went to bed when he wanted. He spent his money how he wanted. Now, it all revolves around the apes! I constantly check in with him to make sure that he's ok, but he continues to say that the whole situation is a blessing to him. (Frankly, I'm incredibly appreciative of his thankfulness but I also have to question his sanity)! About a week into marriage, I was in a funk and was standing at the stove cooking something. I knew Ray was at the table behind me, but I was trying to leave him alone and give him some space. I heard him get up and start rummaging through the cabinet. I figured that he was looking for a snack. Then I heard the sound of a million Cheerios raining down onto the tile floor. As I turned, I saw the contents of the mega family-sized box of Cheerios on the floor and Ray simply standing there. I held my breath. Would he snap? Would he simply walk out? What would he do? He went for the broom. He swept up the spillage and then went back to the table. I think I was still holding my breath. Then, he called me to the table. Crap. This was one of those moments when my imagination took hold of a single event, applied history, and morphed the whole scenario into another nightmare. I just knew that he was going to calmly tell me that he couldn't handle the craziness of the house, the fact the kids couldn't even put the cereal back into the cabinet correctly, and my stewing. But, no. With tears in his eyes, he simply said, "I feel like a stranger in a foreign land." Well. That pretty much sums it up. That one event sort of opened up the communication lines for us and gave me a glimpse into what he must be feeling. He was exhausted with trying to fit in. The Cheerios incident was sort of a turning point for me. That night, I learned that Ray was human. And, I haven't bought any more Cheerios.

Now, there have been some other logistical issues that don't carry the same sort of weight as we've morphed into a family of five. Sleeping arrangements were nothing shy of awkward for the first several weeks. The kids had never seen another man in "my" bedroom (Ray didn't even go upstairs until the week prior to the wedding to transfer some of his clothes) and Annie sure didn't understand that Ray would be sleeping on "her" side of the bed. She doesn't really have any memories of Eric being in the house so this whole scenario was new to her. Then, to top it off, every time Ray changed shirts, she'd scream about seeing him "naked." She's simply never been around guys and didn't understand that it was ok for guys to show their chests. Geez. Explaining the double standard to her was a bit of a chore and I'm not sure that she bought it. So, if you ever see her running around in public with her shirt off, just look the other way and know that we'll being paying a counselor to set her straight in years to come. Grant also found the sleeping arrangements a bit strange. Each night, he'd come in and crash in the middle of the bed in between us. It was definitely his way of expressing his discomfort. But, I think we've moved passed all of that. Now, the issues are simply between Ray and myself. I've had the entire king sized bed to myself for the last several years. I'd taken up sleeping smack dab in the middle of the bed with a bazillion pillows on both sides of me. Ray (aka. Monk) has counted the spindles on the headboard and now refers to the middle of the bed as the "nine line" because the ninth spindle is right in the middle. Many nights, I'll hear him say, "You're over the nine line." That's my cue to move over so he can stop clinging to the edge of the bed for dear life. Laundry is the other oddity that we're still working on. I turn things right side out before putting them away. He folds things up the way they come out of the dryer. He rolls his drawers and socks. I fold. I hang things up with the hook toward the left. He wants it done opposite because he uses the right side of the closet. These are all little things that have become laughable moments on this crazy journey. Someone should create a check list for newlyweds that would cover all of these crazy nuances so you could at least discuss them with the marriage counselor prior to the wedding! Hey, you never know! Those Martha Stewart-types might find some of that stuff to be a deal breaker!

So, that's sort of a long answer to everyone's question, "How's married life?" Married life is great when it's handled with care, patience, and laughter. We've managed to get out of town at least one weekend a month in order to make sure we're having time to communicate without the apes throwing bananas and demanding tire swings. I'm completely amazed every day at how perfect Ray is for our entire family. Who would have ever believed that someone would be capable of coming into the asylum and engaging in all of the ridiculousness and even create a new level of chaos! I continue to stand in awe of this precious gift that He has given us.

Good night (morning), all.

Oh, and if you were wondering, I did take a break and washed that gray right out of my hair. However, I'm now sporting a weird reddish color on my hair. Maybe it's time to seek professional help.

He replied, "You of little faith, why are you so afraid?"
Then he got up and rebuked the winds and the waves,
and it was completely calm.
Matthew 8:26

Happily Ever After...

Wow. I’m not sure where to begin. The last month has been nothing short of a roller coaster ride. Over the last several years, I've compared my life to a roller coaster ride with its ups and downs. Right now, I sort of feel like I’m at that moment where you finally step off of the coaster and try to find your land legs again. I've learned enough on this journey to know that there will still be some ups and downs, but I also know beyond a shadow of a doubt that there’ll be someone there to pick me up and dust me off and then set me back on my feet. (Yes, he might be laughing as he does it time and time again as crazy as my life is, but he will be there).

There have been so many questions about this mystery Prince Charming. And, yes, he was kept a mystery on purpose. The wedding was planned long before the announcement was made. Have I mentioned that I don’t do drama and I hate to be in the spotlight?

But, now that the fanfare has passed, I’ll give you a run down on the details. When Ray and I met, we had both sort of come to the conclusion that we’d live out our lives mateless and we were ok with that. He’d decided to be a troll living in a cabin in the wilderness and I’d decided that my duty would simply be to raise these children without sustaining (or rendering) permanent damage. It always seems that God meets us when we finally decide to put our own agendas down, though. After our first date, I’d decided that I would probably never go out again. Ray was great, but how in the world was some single guy without kids ever going to be a plausible part of the chaos that I was used to calling LIFE? However, he called back and I took a risk and went out with him again since the kids were with Eric and I didn't really want to be alone.

We talked for hours that day. I learned that he was a true gentleman and, quite frankly, was lucky to be alive after brain cancer, a traumatic head injury, and a stroke. I’d be willing to bet that most folks who walk that sort of journey don’t end up with cheery outlooks on life. Anyway, as we talked, it became blatantly apparent that we had an abundance in common despite our differences. The talking continued and I finally let him meet the kids. I figured that he would come to his senses and run for the hills at that point. What man in their right mind would stick around for punishment from the Randolph inmates? That was where I was wrong. Not only did Ray seem to enjoy the torment the kids issued, but he actually seemed to encourage it! What? Now, here’s where I could keep to the details or get real about what I was thinking. I’ll go with real for now – no silicone implants here. Part of me was hoping that the kids would send this man running for cover. I was sitting face to face with a major fear factor. My heart and my mind were synching for once in my lifetime and the reality of finding “the one” was flat out scary. I thought I had “the one” before and look at what happened. What if I made the same mistake again? What if this guy was an Emmy winning actor and was just playing the part of a sane upstanding citizen and then turned loony. (Yes, I use the term “loony” loosely since the sanity of this household is continually in question). I simply couldn't run him off. So, I resorted to scare tactics. I started telling him about Dasha and her “issues” and my “issues” (yes, believe it or not, I have a few). But, he simply wouldn't run. In fact, he was sort of like the Pied Piper with the kids. They loved him. Crap. Crap. Crap. I saw a sign once that referenced not being afraid of the future but being afraid of repeating past mistakes. Yep. That was the case 100%.

So, fast forward through all of the dating and getting to know you stuff. This guy sort of “had me at hello” but I’d decided not to go down without a fight. I threw every single piece of dirty laundry and every ugly little family secret at him, and he purposed. The first proposal was informal and matter-of-fact as we sat and talked one night. The “yes” that came out of my mouth shocked me. However, with that yes came a sweet blanket of contentment. Over the next few weeks, I kept peeking out from under that blanket, though, looking for the skeletons that I was sure he’d hidden away in his closet. He was just too darn perfect. Strong man of God (spent years overseas ministering to families in the Dominican Republic), highly intelligent (can’t play cards with the man because he is a math freak and can count cards), patient beyond anything I could ever imagine, playful and mischievous, good steward of resources, works at every job as if Jesus was standing there (don’t ask me what he does for a living – it has to do with computers and he gets job offers daily from all over the country so I think he’s pretty good at it), doesn't mind having his hair in barrettes or being farted on by a teen-aged boy (no, not by me)… check, check, and check. All of the little things that I’d put on a list somewhere deep in my heart (not the farting part, though) and not even had the faith to hand over to God, this man exhibited. Oh ye of little faith…

We planned the wedding. (Side note for the detail lovers – ceremony at Berry College in the oldest chapel there, Barnwell Chapel, presided over by our pastor, Aaron Johnson, with close family and friends).  I kept looking for skeletons. We made it public. I kept looking for skeletons. We got married. I forgot about the skeletons. Now, I wouldn't be writing this if Ray didn't know about my skeleton hunting. I've told him more than once that I sort of keep waiting for something crazy to happen like him to announce that he’s really a woman, but… I know that I have been given a gift in Ray far greater than anything I could have conjured up on my own. Two single folks both traveling VERY different journeys that had free will to walk away from the first date, the second date, or even from the alter.

And... they're married!

June and Ward with the married family

If this cast looks familiar, it's because they all play roles in Christmas Vacation (otherwise known as my mom's extended family).

Ray's family

Some of the folks who work in the containment unit with me

I believe I heard someone whisper, "Run, Forest, run!"

It finally stopped raining just in time for guests to leave.

 However, the friendship we have in each other is like nothing I've ever experienced. He laughs at the “quirks” (that’s so much nicer than the word “issues”) I've developed over the last few years regarding controlling things and being a perfectionist. He even tries to do things to keep those quirks at bay. For example, this morning, he made the bed and aligned the grid on the quilt with the footboard so that the quilt hangs in a manner that I deem proper. He lets me iron his shirts (his assumption was that if it said “wrinkle free” that a few hours of sweat and body heat would magically render the clothes in perfect starched condition). And, he even let’s me pick his clothes out the night before and put them in the bathroom. I've got to tell you that this poor fellow has looked at me more than once and I think his brain has been saying to him, “Run NOW, dude, while she’s not looking!”

While I know that Ray and I will finish this journey on Earth together, I won’t tell you that some of those old fears haven’t crept back in to my mind just because we got married. I've dealt with the issue of having alone time more than once. I’m used to putting the kids to bed and then having a few hours to rule the house. This is something that Ray has dealt with, as well. He was used to going home to an empty house and he and his cat doing whatever they darn well pleased. Thank goodness, we've been able to communicate and give each other space when we needed to. We've also dealt with finances. I’m used to budgeting to the penny and accounting for every single cent. There hasn't been room for anything extravagant. Ray was used to living the bachelor life. Yes, he budgeted, but he did so within the confines of providing for himself and the cat. I’m pretty sure that these are only going to be the tip of the ice berg as we walk together. And, if I remember correctly, I think there are going to be some differences simply because he’s a he and I’m a she.

So, there’s the story in a nutshell. We met. I thought, “No way.” He called. We went out again, and again, and again. He got serious. I got scared. He proposed. I said, “Yes.” I got scared. I went skeleton hunting. He gently reassured. He dared me to trust him fully. We got married. We are learning to keep our own identities while building an “us,” as well. And, we laugh, and laugh, and laugh knowing what we almost walked away from our happily ever after.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch (er… asylum)… The kids are adjusting and it’s hard to believe that it’s only been two weeks since we got hitched. Things have taken on somewhat of a routine. I get up at the crack of dawn and prepare of gourmet breakfast before sending my man off to work. Then, I wake the darling children up and they happily scrub the house from top to bottom. Ok. Obviously, I’m a bit delusional. Actually, it’s more like I grunt as Ray leaves for work each morning and then I roll over and go back to sleep. Then, I drag the kids from the beds and force them to help get the house cleaned up and back into order before I go back to school next week. Probably one of the funniest moments over the last couple of weeks was when I was trying to get clothes ready for everyone one night. I could not find a shirt that I was looking for. Ray sort of looked at me in a baffled way and alluded to the fact that I seemed a bit dramatic which he wasn't used to. I might have laughed so hard that I snorted. I explained to him that my drama over looking for the shirt was about a 4 on a scale of 1 to 10 and that he’d most likely see more than one episode of 10ish behavior over the next couple of weeks as we get back into the school routine. Once again, I think his brain was telling him to get out while the gettin’ was still good! At that point, he began to ask what he could do to help keep me away from the 10 zone. The man actually hired someone to help with the housework. No. I’m not kidding. Like I said, he really does try to curtail my quirks and keep this house semi-drama free. But, we have tried to enlist the kids’ help in combining households and organizing the pieces of the Bat Cave that were brought here. As we moved stuff around last weekend, I think I heard Ray and Grant oozing a few tears over the loss of the bachelor pad. They were both good sports, though.

So many crazy things have happened over the last month, but I just can’t get it all into words here. As things settle down, hopefully, I can fill in the gaps. For now, rest assured that despite reality, we are a blissful little family and learning to operate as such.

Good night, all.

Psalm 37

1Do not fret because of those who are evil

or be envious of those who do wrong;

2for like the grass they will soon wither,

like green plants they will soon die away.

3Trust in the Lord and do good;

dwell in the land and enjoy safe pasture.

4Take delight in the Lord,

and he will give you the desires of your heart.

5Commit your way to the Lord;

trust in him and he will do this:

6He will make your righteous reward shine like the dawn,

your vindication like the noonday sun.