Sometimes You Just Have to Leave Them Behind

        We were invited to a wedding this past weekend.  The wedding of a "4 year old child" that I was resident babysitter to for about 4 years of my life as a teenager.  She is not a child anymore, which is strangely odd considering I have not aged at all. :)  The service was beautiful and as I sat and watched them commit themselves to each other, I was reminded of my own commitment that I made 14 years ago.   A commitment to choose to love someone for the rest of my life.  Someone with no blood ties, a complete stranger really, nothing linking me to him but the vows that we made on that day. 
          Love for  a spouse is so different than the love you have for your children.  I love my kids, adore them, would lay down my life for them, no questions asked, no second thoughts.  They are my flesh, my blood, my soul, my spirit, you get the point.  But my husband has none of these connections to me.  I chose him and he chose me, that's the only tie we have.  It is for this very reason that sometimes I choose to leave my children behind. 
             In my quest to teach my children what it means to love someone and to know someone, I have to constantly be aware of my relationship with the man I have chosen to be my husband. Let's face it, who wants wake up in 20 years to a house with no children and a man that you hardly know. And though it may be unimaginable that our children will one day leave us behind, ultimately as a parent, our goal should be that they will grow up, they will make a life for themselves, they will LET GO! (Someone remind me that I said this in about 11 years when B is graduating high school...)
           With the aid of our family and some friends we were able to enjoy about 60 hours of adult conversation, adult meals, adult beverages, adult activities, on adult time,   Do you know how precious that time is in a house that revolves around three small beings?  We reconnected, we enjoyed each other, we sat in the car and rode in glorious silence, we laughed, we danced, we picked random places on the GPS to visit, we saw old friends, we held hands, we even stole the occasional kiss without hearing a resounding chorus of "Eeeeeewwwww, ggggrrrooooosssss!", we recharged our batteries and renewed our commitment not only to ourselves but to our children as well.  And an eight hour car trip one way was not the dread fest I was thinking it would be, it was actually quite enjoyable! 
                So in conclusion, I want to say thank you to the people that make it possible for me to recharge my relationship with my husband.  We truly appreciate the support of my mom, my in laws, my niece, and my dear friends for taking on our children for a few days while we enjoyed each other.  And to anyone out there that has not "tried it", I encourage you to make a plan for yourself and your spouse.  Leave your children behind and rediscover why you chose each other in the first place even if it is just for a half hour at McDonald's with a cup of coffee.  The only rule you need to follow is, "No Happy Meals Allowed!"  Enjoy yourself, enjoy your spouse, return a better wife, a better woman, a better mom. 

The Start of a Storyteller

      I am a storyteller.  I always have been.  I can tell a story on just about anything, myself, my neighbor, my friends, my family.  I mean, come on, that B.S. hanging on my wall didn't earn itself!  Perhaps it is my middle child nature of craving attention and combating the "poor me, nobody pays attention to me, I am so unloved..." syndrome that people seem to peg on those of us that were fortunate enough to be born in the middle.  I'm not saying I have this syndrome, I have a wonderful family and a fabulous childhood and would hardly classify myself as someone lacking in attention since I hear my name being said at least 1,432 times everyday.  But maybe, somewhere in my psyche there it is, hiding, prompting me to seek attention at whatever the cost.  But whatever, let's see if I can't redirect myself to the story I was hoping to tell and save the middle child comparisons for another day. 
       When I was in elementary school, probably somewhere around the third grade, I participated in a writing contest.  We were supposed to write about a time that we cared for someone who was in need.   The winner would get a plush Care Bear.  Do you know how much I loved the Care Bears?  I needed that Care Bear!   The problem was that I couldn't think of anything that was caring enough to win a Care Bear.  And of course when you are under pressure to perform the only things that pop into your head are all the terrible things that you have done to your siblings, not any of the good stuff.  Let's be honest, nobody ever remembers the good stuff anyways, they may remember that overall you were a pretty "good" kid but when it comes to particulars, they don't really believe the story you concocted about saving that dog from the oncoming train but they sure can recall every second of the time you and your older sister locked your little brother out of the house in his underwear. 
       So there I was desperately trying to rack my brain about a time that I was caring to someone, anyone, anything, didn't matter as long as I won that Care Bear.  Then it hit me!  If you can't think of something, just make it up!!  Genius I say!!  Who would ever know, right?  Then I could really come up with something really cool and win the Care Bear and if the opportunity ever arose to actually act out my caring feet, I certainly wouldn't let it pass me by!  Hence the made up story about me helping out my sister who had stage fright before her big performance was born (which looking back was pretty lame if that was the best I could do at making something up). 
           But I guess God wanted to teach me a lesson in humility about the whole thing because  guess what?!  I WON!!  Now anyone who has ever fabricated a story knows that somehow, someway, life is going to pop you in the jaw for your fabrication.  My pop came in the form of having the "privilege" of getting my picture in the newspaper for my caring act, holding my Care Bear.  Oh, how a picture speaks 1,000 words.  My face was screaming  "I LIIIEEEEEDDDDD!!!!!  I'm sorry!!!!!  But I can't tell the truth now because in my eight year old head I just know they would revoke my Care Bear and have to print a retraction in the paper about the third grader that lied about being caring, which would in turn RUIN my family and all that they have worked so hard to acheive!"  (I've also always been a little overdramatic if you couldn't tell.)  So here you go, this is my confession, my retraction, my public apology.  My sister has never had stage fright before a performance in a play and I have never given her a caring pep talk to get her through it.  Whew!!!  It feels good to get that off my chest!!  You don't know what it is like to harbor such a secret for 20 something years!
          Lucky for me, the Lord seems to, for whatever reason, find value in my sense of humor  because it was at this point in my life that I discovered how much I truly enjoyed telling stories, be them true or false.  This page is my effort to expand those stories and share them with others.  I hope they will make you chuckle or at least leave you with something more than which you began.   Luckily for everyone, my story subjects are plentiful and the stories they render are usually so good that no fabrications are needed!  Otherwise, you may find out that I once actually won the lottery but donated all of the winnings to your medical fund because you were, in fact, in jeopardy of dying from a very rare allergic reaction to a Japanese variety of Poison Sumac. :)